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diff --git a/30589-h/30589-h.htm b/30589-h/30589-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b127aff --- /dev/null +++ b/30589-h/30589-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9135 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Continental Dragoon, by Robert Neilson Stephens</title> +<style type="text/css"> + @media screen { + hr.pb {margin:30px 0; width:100%; border:none;border-top:thin dashed silver;} + .pagenum {display: inline; font-size: x-small; text-align: right; text-indent: 0; position: absolute; right: 2%; padding: 1px 3px; font-style: normal; font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration: none; background-color: inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} + .pncolor {color: silver;} + } + @media print { + hr.pb {border:none;page-break-after: always;} + .pagenum { display:none; } + } + body {margin-left: 11%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 0.5em;} + + .adbook {text-align: center; font-weight: bold; font-size: large;margin-top: 1.5em;} + .adprice {margin: .75em 2.5em;} + .adprice span.ralign{float: right; width: auto;} + .center, .center p{text-align: center;} + .dcap {text-transform: uppercase;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: 0.25em; text-decoration: none; background-color: #DDD; font-size: .9em;} + .larger {font-size: large;} + .muchlarger {font-size: x-large;} + .padtop {margin-top: 2em;} + .ralign, .ralign p{text-align: right;} + .smaller {font-size: small;} + .trnote {background-color: #EEE; color: inherit; margin: 2em 5% 1em 5%; font-size: small; padding: 0.5em 1em 0.5em 1em; border: dotted 1px gray;} + blockquote {display: block; margin: .75em 2em; font-size: 80%;} + div.adbox {border: solid 1px black; text-align: center; margin: 2em auto; width: 20em;} + div.adbox p {text-align: center; margin: 0; padding: .5em;} + div.adbox p.section{border-top: solid 1px black;} + h1,h2,h3,h4 {text-align: center;} + p.dropcap:first-letter{padding-top: .07em;} + p.dropcap:first-letter, p.dropcapq span.drop{float: left; margin-right: .05em; font-size: 300%; line-height: .8em; width: auto;} + p.dropcapq small {float: left; font-weight: bold; width: auto;} + p.dropcapq span.drop{padding-top: 0; padding-bottom: 0;} + + .caption {font-size: 90%; text-align:center;} + .chsp {margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em;} + .figcenter {margin: 2em auto 2em auto; text-align: center; width: auto;} + .figtag {height: 1px;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .smcaplc {text-transform: lowercase; font-variant: small-caps;} + a {text-decoration: none;} + hr.mini {width: 20%; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; clear:both; margin: 1em auto;} + hr.toprule {width: 65%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; clear:both;} + p.center {text-align: center !important;} + p.cg {margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-align: left; width: 101%;} + span.indent2 {text-indent:0; width: 0.8em; display: block; float: left;} + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + td.chalgn {text-align:right; margin-top:0; padding-right:1em;} + + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + pre {font-size: 85%;} +</style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Continental Dragoon, by Robert Neilson +Stephens, Illustrated by H. C. Edwards</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The Continental Dragoon</p> +<p> A Love Story of Philipse Manor-House in 1778</p> +<p>Author: Robert Neilson Stephens</p> +<p>Release Date: December 3, 2009 [eBook #30589]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CONTINENTAL DRAGOON***</p> +<p> </p> +<h4>E-text prepared by David Edwards, Katherine Ward,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (<a href="http://www.pgdp.net/c/">http://www.pgdp.net</a>)<br /> + from digital material generously made available by<br /> + Internet Archive<br /> + (<a href="http://www.archive.org">http://www.archive.org</a>)</h4> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;" cellpadding="10"> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + Note: + </td> + <td> + Images of the original pages are available through + Internet Archive. See + <a href="http://www.archive.org/details/continentaldrago00stepiala"> + http://www.archive.org/details/continentaldrago00stepiala</a> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> + +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_1' id='linki_1'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/cover.jpg' alt='' title='' width='406' height='600' /><br /> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div class="center"> +<h1>The<br /> +Continental<br /> +Dragoon.</h1> +<p class='larger padtop center'>by<br /><br /> +R. N. Stephens.</p> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div class='adbox'> +<p>Works of <br /><span class="larger">R. N. STEPHENS.</span></p> +<hr class='mini' /> +<p>An Enemy to the King.<br /> +The Continental Dragoon.</p> +<hr class='mini' /> +<p><span class="smaller"><i>In Press</i>:</span><br /> +The Road to Paris.</p> +<p class='section'>L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY, Publishers,<br /> +<span class="smaller">(INCORPORATED)</span><br /> +196 Summer St., Boston, Mass.</p> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_2' id='linki_2'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/frontispiece.jpg' alt='' title='' width='317' height='500' /><br /> +<p class='caption'> +“<i>‘Take that rebel alive!’ ordered Colden.</i>”<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smaller">Photogravure from original drawing by <br />H. C. Edwards.</span><br /> +</p> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div class="center"> +<p class='padtop larger smcap'>THE<br /> +<span class="muchlarger">Continental Dragoon</span></p> +<p><b>A Love Story of Philipse Manor-House<br /> +in 1778</b></p> +<p class='larger'><span class='smcaplc'>BY</span> +ROBERT NEILSON STEPHENS</p> +<p><span class='smcap'>AUTHOR OF<br /> +“AN ENEMY TO THE KING”</span></p> +<p class='padtop'><span class="smaller">Illustrated by</span><br /> +H. C. EDWARDS</p> +<p class='smaller padtop'>“Love’s born of a glance, I say”</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p class='padtop'>BOSTON<br /> +L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY<br /> +<span class='smcaplc'>(INCORPORATED)</span><br /> +1898</p> +<hr class='pb' /> +<p class='smaller'><i>Copyright, 1898</i><br /> +<span class='smcap'>By L. C. Page and Company<br /> +(INCORPORATED)</span></p> +<hr class='mini' /> +<p class='smaller'><i>Entered at Stationer’s Hall, London</i></p> +<p class='smaller smcaplc padtop'>FIFTH THOUSAND</p> +<p class='smaller'><b>Colonial Press:</b><br /> +Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co.<br /> +Boston, U. S. A.</p> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> +<table border='0' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Contents' style='margin:1em auto;'> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'><p class="smaller smcap">Chapter</p></td> + <td /> + <td valign='top' align='right'><p class="smaller ralign smcap">Page</p></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>I.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The Riders</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_I_THE_RIDERS'>11</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>II.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The Manor-house</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_II_THE_MANORHOUSE'>32</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>III.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The Sound of Galloping</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_III_THE_SOUND_OF_GALLOPING'>50</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>IV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The Continental Dragoon</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_IV_THE_CONTINENTAL_DRAGOON'>65</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>V.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The Black Horse</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_V_THE_BLACK_HORSE'>87</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>VI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The One Chance</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_VI_THE_ONE_CHANCE'>116</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>VII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The Flight of the Minutes</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_VII_THE_FLIGHT_OF_THE_MINUTES'>140</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>VIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The Secret Passage</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_VIII_THE_SECRET_PASSAGE'>156</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>IX.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The Confession</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_IX_THE_CONFESSION'>180</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>X.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The Plan of Retaliation</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_X_THE_PLAN_OF_RETALIATION'>197</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The Conquest</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XI_THE_CONQUEST'>214</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The Challenge</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XII_THE_CHALLENGE'>236</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The Unexpected</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XIII_THE_UNEXPECTED'>252</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XIV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The Broken Sword</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XIV_THE_BROKEN_SWORD'>267</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.</h2> +<table border='0' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Illustrations' style='margin:1em auto;'> +<col style='width:75%;' /> +<col style='width:25%;' /> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'>“<span class='smcap'>‘Take that rebel alive!’ ordered Colden.</span>”</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_2'><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td /> + <td /> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span class='smcap'>“‘Give it to the Colonel.’”</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_3'>82</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span class='smcap'>“Leaned forward on the horse’s neck.”</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_4'>111</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span class='smcap'>“‘You are too late, Jack!’”</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_5'>154</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span class='smcap'>“‘Go, I say!’”</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_6'>196</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span class='smcap'>“‘I take my leave of this house!’”</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_7'>248</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div class='chsp' style='padding-top:0'> +<a name='CHAPTER_I_THE_RIDERS' id='CHAPTER_I_THE_RIDERS'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER I.</h2> +<h3>THE RIDERS.</h3> +</div> +<p class='dropcapq'><small>“</small><span class='drop'>I</span><span class='dcap'> dare</span> say ’tis a wild, foolish, dangerous thing; +but I do it, nevertheless! As for my reasons, they +are the strongest. First, I wish to do it. Second, +you’ve all opposed my doing it. So there’s an end +of the matter!”</p> +<p>It was, of course, a woman that spoke,—moreover, +a young one.</p> +<p>And she added:</p> +<p>“Drat the wind! Can’t we ride faster? ’Twill +be dark before we reach the manor-house. Get +along, Cato!”</p> +<p>She was one of three on horseback, who went +northward on the Albany post-road late in the afternoon +of a gray, chill, blowy day in November, in the +war-scourged year 1778. Beside the girl rode a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12' name='page_12'></a>12</span> +young gentleman, wrapped in a dark cloak. The +third horse, which plodded a short distance in the +rear, carried a small negro youth and two large portmanteaus. +The three riders made a group that was, +as far as could be seen from their view-point, alone +on the highway.</p> +<p>There were reasons why such a group, on that +road at that time, was an unusual sight,—reasons +familiar to any one who is well informed in the +history of the Revolution. Unfortunately, most +good Americans are better acquainted with the +French Revolution than with our own, know more +about the state of affairs in Rome during the reign +of Nero than about the condition of things in New +York City during the British occupation, and compensate +for their knowledge of Scotch-English border +warfare in remote times by their ignorance of the +border warfare that ravaged the vicinity of the island +of Manhattan, for six years, little more than a century +ago.</p> +<p>Our Revolutionary War had reached the respectable +age of three and a half years. Lexington, +Bunker Hill, Brooklyn, Harlem Heights, White +Plains, Trenton, Princeton, the Brandywine, German-town, +Bennington, Saratoga, and Monmouth—not +to mention events in the South and in Canada and +on the water—had taken their place in history. +The army of the King of England had successively +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13' name='page_13'></a>13</span> +occupied Boston, New York, and Philadelphia; had +been driven out of Boston by siege, and had left +Philadelphia to return to the town more pivotal and +nearer the sea,—New York. One British commander-in-chief +had been recalled by the British ministry to +explain why he had not crushed the rebellion, and +one British major-general had surrendered an army, +and was now back in England defending his course +and pleading in Parliament the cause of the Americans, +to whom he was still a prisoner on parole. +Our Continental army—called Continental because, +like the general Congress, it served the whole union +of British-settled Colonies or States on this continent, +and was thus distinguished from the militia, which +served in each case its particular Colony or State +only—had experienced both defeats and victories in +encounters with the King’s troops and his allies, German, +Hessian, and American Tory. It had endured +the winter at Valley Forge while the British had +fed, drunk, gambled, danced, flirted, and wenched in +Philadelphia. The French alliance had been sanctioned. +Steuben, Lafayette, DeKalb, Pulaski, Kosciusko, +Armand, and other Europeans, had taken +service with us. One plot had been made in Congress +and the army to supplant Washington in the +chief command, and had failed. The treason of +General Charles Lee had come to naught,—but was +to wait for disclosure till many years after every person +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14' name='page_14'></a>14</span> +concerned should be graveyard dust. We had +celebrated two anniversaries of the Fourth of July. +The new free and independent States had organized +local governments. The King’s appointees still made +a pretence of maintaining the royal provincial governments, +but mostly abode under the protection of the +King’s troops in New York. There also many of +those Americans in the North took refuge who distinctly +professed loyalty to the King. New York +was thus the chief lodging-place of all that embodied +British sovereignty in America. Naturally the material +tokens of British rule radiated from the town, +covering all of the island of Manhattan, most of +Long Island, and all of Staten Island, and retaining +a clutch here and there on the mainland of New +Jersey.</p> +<p>It was the present object of Washington to keep +those visible signs of English authority penned up +within this circle around New York. The Continental +posts, therefore, formed a vast arc, extending +from the interior of New Jersey through Southeastern +New York State to Long Island Sound and into +Connecticut. This had been the situation since midsummer +of 1778. It was but a detachment from our +main army that had cooperated with the French fleet +in the futile attempt to dislodge a British force from +Newport in August of that year.</p> +<p>The British commander-in-chief and most of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15' name='page_15'></a>15</span> +superior officers had their quarters in the best residences +of New York. That town was packed snugly +into the southern angle of the island of Manhattan, +like a gift in the toe of a Christmas stocking. Southward, +some of its finest houses looked across the +Battery to the bay. Northward the town extended +little beyond the common fields, of which the City +Hall Square of 1898 is a reduced survival. The +island of Manhattan—with its hills, woods, swamps, +ponds, brooks, roads, farms, sightly estates, gardens, +and orchards—was dotted with the cantonments +and garrisoned forts of the British. The outposts +were, largely, entrusted to bodies of Tory allies +organized in this country. Thus was much of Long +Island guarded by the three Loyalist battalions of +General Oliver De Lancey, himself a native of New +York. On Staten Island was quartered General +Van Cortlandt Skinner’s brigade of New Jersey Volunteers, +a troop which seems to have had such difficulty +in finding officers in its own State that it had +to go to New York for many of them,—or was it +that so many more rich New York Loyalists had to +be provided with commissions than the New York +Loyalist brigades required as officers?</p> +<p>But the most important British posts were those +which guarded the northern entrance to the island +of Manhattan, where it was separated from the mainland +by Spuyten Duyvel Kill, flowing westward into +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16' name='page_16'></a>16</span> +the Hudson, and the Harlem, flowing southward into +the East River. King’s Bridge and the Farmers’ +Bridge, not far apart, joined the island to the main; +and just before the Revolution a traveller might have +made his choice of these two bridges, whether he +wished to take the Boston road or the road to Albany. +In 1778 the British “barrier” was King’s +Bridge, the northern one of the two, the watch-house +being the tavern at the mainland end of the bridge. +Not only the bridge, but the Hudson, the Spuyten +Duyvel, and the Harlem, as well, were commanded +by British forts on the island of Manhattan. Yet +there were defences still further out. On the mainland +was a line of forts extending from the Hudson, +first eastward, then southward, to the East River. +Further north, between the Albany road and the +Hudson, was a camp of German and Hessian allies, +foot and horse. Northeast, on Valentine’s Hill, +were the Seventy-first Highlanders. Near the +mainland bank of the Harlem were the quarters of +various troops of dragoons, most of them American +Tory corps with English commanders, but one, at +least, native to the soil, not only in rank and file, but +in officers also,—and with no less dash and daring +than by Tarleton, Simcoe, and the rest, was King +George III. served by Captain James De Lancey, +of the county of West Chester, with his “cowboys,” +officially known as the West Chester Light Horse.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17' name='page_17'></a>17</span></div> +<p>Thus the outer northern lines of the British were +just above King’s Bridge. The principal camp of +the Americans was far to the north. Each army +was affected by conditions that called for a wide +space of territory between the two forces, between +the outer rim of the British circle, and the inner face +of the American arc. Of this space the portion that +lay bounded on the west by the Hudson, on the +southeast by Long Island Sound, and cut in two by +the southward-flowing Bronx, was the most interesting. +It was called the Neutral Ground, and neutral +it was in that it had the protection of neither side, +while it was ravaged by both. Foraged by the two +armies, under the approved rules of war, it underwent +further a constant, irregular pillage by gangs +of mounted rascals who claimed attachment, some +to the British, some to the Americans, but were not +owned by either. It was, too, overridden by the +cavalry of both sides in attempts to surprise outposts, +cut off supplies, and otherwise harass and +sting. Unexpected forays by the rangers and dragoons +from King’s Bridge and the Harlem were reciprocated +by sudden visitations of American horse +and light infantry from the Greenburg Hills and +thereabove. The Whig militia of the county also +took a hand against British Tories and marauders. +Of the residents, many Tories fled to New York, +some Americans went to the interior of the country, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18' name='page_18'></a>18</span> +but numbers of each party held their ground, at risk +of personal harm as well as of robbery. Many of +the best houses were, at different times during the +war, occupied as quarters by officers of either side. +Little was raised on the farms save what the farmers +could immediately use or easily conceal. The Hudson +was watched by British war-vessels, while the +Americans on their side patrolled it with whale-boats, +long and canoe-like, swift and elusive. For the +drama of partisan warfare, Nature had provided, in +lower West Chester County,—picturesquely hilly, +beautifully wooded, pleasantly watered, bounded in +part by the matchless Hudson and the peerless +Sound,—a setting unsurpassed.</p> +<p>Thus was it that Miss Elizabeth Philipse, Major +John Colden, and Miss Philipse’s negro boy, Cuff, +all riding northward on the Albany post-road, a few +miles above King’s Bridge, but still within territory +patrolled daily by the King’s troops, constituted, on +that bleak November evening in 1778, a group unusual +to the time and place.</p> +<p>’Twas a wettish wind, concerning which Miss +Elizabeth expressed, in the imperative mood, her +will that it be dratted,—a feminine wind, truly, as +was clear from its unexpected flarings up and sudden +calmings down, its illogical whiskings around and +eccentric changes of direction. Now it swept down +the slope from the east, as if it meant to bombard +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19' name='page_19'></a>19</span> +the travellers with all the brown leaves of the hillside. +Now it assailed them from the north, as if to impede +their journey; now rushed on them from the rear as +if it had come up from New York to speed them on +their way; now attacked them in the left flank, armed +with a raw chill from the Hudson. It blew Miss +Elizabeth’s hair about and additionally reddened her +cheeks. It caused the young Tory major to frown, +for the protection of his eyes, and thus to look more +and more unlike the happy man that Miss Elizabeth’s +accepted suitor ought to have appeared.</p> +<p>“I make no doubt I’ve brought on me the anger +of your whole family by lending myself to this. +And yet I am as much against it as they are!” +So spake the major, in tones as glum as his looks.</p> +<p>“’Twas a choice, then, between their anger and +mine,” said Miss Elizabeth, serenely. “Don’t think +I wouldn’t have come, even if you had refused your +escort. I’d have made the trip alone with Cuff, that’s +all.”</p> +<p>“I shall be blamed, none the less.”</p> +<p>“Why? You couldn’t have hindered me. If +the excursion is as dangerous as they say it is, your +company certainly does not add to my danger. It +lessens it. So, as my safety is what they all clamor +about, they ought to commend you for escorting me.”</p> +<p>“If they were like ever to take that view, they +would not all have refused you their own company.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20' name='page_20'></a>20</span></div> +<p>“They refused because they neither supposed +that I would come alone nor that Providence would +send me an escort in the shape of a surly major on +leave of absence from Staten Island! Come, Jack, +you needn’t tremble in dread of their wrath. By +this time my amiable papa and my solicitous +mamma and my anxious brothers and sisters are +in such a state of mind about me that, when you +return to-night and report I’ve been safely consigned +to Aunt Sally’s care, they’ll fairly worship you as a +messenger of good news. So be as cheerful as the +wind and the cold will let you. We are almost +there. It seems an age since we passed Van Cortlandt’s.”</p> +<p>Major Colden merely sighed and looked more +dismal, as if knowing the futility of speech.</p> +<p>“There’s the steeple!” presently cried the girl, +looking ahead. “We’ll be at the parsonage in ten +minutes, and safe in the manor-house in five more. +Do look relieved, Jack! The journey’s end is in +sight, and we haven’t had sight of a soldier this +side of King’s Bridge,—except Van Wrumb’s Hessians +across Tippett’s Vale, and they are friends. +Br-r-r-r! I’ll have Williams make a fire in every +room in the manor-house!”</p> +<p>Now while these three rode in seeming security +from the south towards the church, parsonage, country +tavern, and great manor-house that constituted +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21' name='page_21'></a>21</span> +the village then called, sometimes Lower Philipsburgh +and sometimes Younker’s, that same hill-varied, +forest-set, stream-divided place was being +approached afar from the north by a company of +mounted troops riding as if the devil was after +them. It was not the devil, but another body of +cavalry, riding at equal speed, though at a great +distance behind. The three people from New York +as yet neither saw nor heard anything of these +horsemen dashing down from the north. Yet the +major’s spirits sank lower and lower, as if he had +an omen of coming evil.</p> +<p>He was a handsome young man, Major John +Colden, being not more than twenty-seven years +old, and having the clearly outlined features best +suited to that period of smooth-shaven faces. His +dark eyes and his pensive expression were none the +less effective for the white powder on his cued hair. +A slightly petulant, uneasy look rather added to his +countenance. He was of medium height and regular +figure. He wore a civilian’s cloak or outer coat +over the uniform of his rank and corps, thus hiding +also his sword and pistol. Other externals of his +attire were riding-boots, gloves, and a three-cornered +hat without a military cockade. He was mounted +on a sorrel horse a little darker in hue than the +animal ridden by Miss Elizabeth’s black boy, Cuff, +who wore the rich livery of the Philipses.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22' name='page_22'></a>22</span></div> +<p>The steed of Miss Elizabeth was a slender black, +sensitive and responsive to her slightest command—a +fit mount for this, the most imperious, though not +the oldest, daughter of Colonel Frederick Philipse, +third lord, under the bygone royal régime, of the +manor of Philipsburgh in the Province of New York. +They gave classic names to quadrupeds in those days +and Addison’s tragedy was highly respected, so Elizabeth’s +scholarly father had christened this horse +Cato. Howsoever the others who loved her regarded +her present jaunt, no opposition was shown +by Cato. Obedient now as ever, the animal bore +her zealously forward, be it to danger or to what +she would.</p> +<p>Elizabeth’s resolve to revisit the manor hall on the +Hudson, which had been left closed up in the steward’s +charge when the family had sought safety in +their New York City residence in 1777, had sprung +in part from a powerful longing for the country and +in part from a dream which had reawakened strongly +her love for the old house of her birth and of most +of her girlhood. The peril of her resolve only increased +her determination to carry it out. Her parents, +brothers, and sisters stood aghast at the project, +and refused in any way to countenance it. But there +was no other will in the Philipse household able to +cope with Elizabeth’s. She held that the thing was +most practicable and simple, inasmuch as the steward, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23' name='page_23'></a>23</span> +with the aid of two servants, kept the deserted house +in a state of habitation, and as her mother’s sister, +Miss Sarah Williams, was living with the widow Babcock +in the parsonage of Lower Philipsburgh and could +transfer her abode to the manor-house for the time +of Elizabeth’s stay. Major Colden, an unloved lover,—for +Elizabeth, accepting marriage as one of the +inevitables, yet declared that she could never love +any man, love being admittedly a weakness, and she +not a weak person,—was ever watchful for the opportunity +of ingratiating himself with the superb girl, +and so fearful of displeasing her that he dared not +refuse to ride with her. He was less able even than +her own family to combat her purpose. One day +some one had asked him why, since she called him +Jack, and he was on the road to thirty years, while +she was yet in her teens, he did not call her Betty +or Bess, as all other Elizabeths were called in those +days. He meditated a moment, then replied, “I +never heard any one, even in her own family, call +her so. I can’t imagine any one ever calling her by +any more familiar name than Elizabeth.”</p> +<p>Now it was not from her father that this regal +young creature could have taken her resoluteness, +though she may well have got from him some of the +pride that went with it. There certainly must have +been more pride than determination in Frederick +Philipse, third lord of the manor, colonel in provincial +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24' name='page_24'></a>24</span> +militia before the Revolution, graduate of King’s +College, churchman, benefactor, gentleman of literary +tastes; amiable, courtly, and so fat that he and his +handsome wife could not comfortably ride in the same +coach at the same time. But there was surely as much +determination as pride in this gentleman’s great-grandfather, +Vrederyck Flypse, descendant of a line of +viscounts and keepers of the deer forests of Bohemia, +Protestant victim of religious persecution in his own +land, immigrant to New Amsterdam about 1650, and +soon afterward the richest merchant in the province, +dealer with the Indians, ship-owner in the East and +West India trade, importer of slaves, leader in provincial +politics and government, founder of Sleepy +Hollow Church, probably a secret trafficker with +Captain Kidd and other pirates, and owner by purchase +of the territory that was erected by royal +charter of William and Mary into the lordship and +manor of Philipsburgh. The strength of will probably +declined, while the pride throve, in transmission +to Vrederyck’s son, Philip, who sowed wild oats, and +went to the Barbadoes for his health and married +the daughter of the English governor of that island. +Philip’s son, Frederick, being born in a hot climate, +and grandson of an English governor as well as of +the great Flypse, would naturally have had great +quantity of pride, whatever his stock of force, particularly +as he became second lord of the manor at +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25' name='page_25'></a>25</span> +the lordly age of four. And he could not easily have +acquired humility in later life, as speaker of the provincial +Assembly, Baron of the Exchequer, judge of +the Supreme Court, or founder of St. John’s Church,—towards +which graceful edifice was the daughter of +his son, the third lord, directing her horse this wintry +autumn evening. As for this third lord, he had been +removed by the new Government to Connecticut for +favoring the English rule, but, having received permission +to go to New York for a short time, had +evinced his fondness for the sweet and soft things of +life by breaking his parole and staying in the city, +under the British protection, thus risking his vast +estate and showing himself a gentleman of anything +but the courage now displayed by his daughter.</p> +<p>Elizabeth, therefore, must have derived her spirit, +with a good measure of pride and a fair share (or +more) of vanity, from her mother, though, thanks to +that appreciation of personal comfort which comes +with middle age, Madam Philipse’s high-spiritedness +would no longer have displayed itself in dangerous +excursions, nor was it longer equal to a contest +with the fresher energy of Elizabeth. She was the +daughter of Charles Williams, once naval officer of +the port of New York, and his wife, who had been +Miss Sarah Olivier. Thus came Madam Philipse +honestly by the description, “imperious woman of +fashion,” in which local history preserves her memory. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26' name='page_26'></a>26</span> +She was a widow of twenty-four when Colonel +Philipse married her, she having been bereaved two +years before of her first husband, Mr. Anthony Rutgers, +the lawyer. She liked display, and her husband +indulged her inclination without stint, receiving in +repayment a good nursery-full of what used, in the +good old days, to be called pledges of affection. +Being the daughter of a royal office-holding Englishman, +how could she have helped holding her head +mighty high on receiving her elevation to the ladyship +of Philipsburgh, and who shall blame her daughter +and namesake, now within a stone’s throw of St. +John’s parsonage and in full sight of the tree-bowered +manorial home of her fathers, for holding hers, which +was younger, a trifle higher?</p> +<p>Not many high-held heads of this or any other day +are or were finer than that of Elizabeth Philipse was +in 1778, or are set on more graceful figures. For all +her haughtiness, she was not a very large person, +nor yet was she a small one. She was neither fragile +nor too ample. Her carriage made her look taller +than she was. She was of the brown-haired, blue-eyed +type, but her eyes were not of unusual size or +surpassing lucidity, being merely clear, honest, steady +eyes, capable rather of fearless or disdainful attention +than of swift flashes or coquettish glances. The precision +with which her features were outlined did not +lessen the interest that her face had from her pride, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27' name='page_27'></a>27</span> +spirit, independence, and intelligence. She was, moreover, +an active, healthy creature, and if she commanded +the dratting of the wind, it was not as much +because she was chilled by it as because it blew her +cloak and impeded her progress. In fine, she was a +beauty; else this historian would never have taken +the trouble of unearthing from many places and +piecing together the details of this fateful incident,—for +if any one supposes that the people of this +narrative are mere fictions, he or she is radically in +error. They lived and achieved, under the names +they herein bear; were as actual as the places herein +mentioned,—as any of the numerous patriotic Americans +who daily visit the genealogical shelves of the +public libraries can easily learn, if they will spare +sufficient time from the laudable task of hunting +down their own ancestors. If this story is called a +romance, that term is used here only as it is oft applied +to actual occurrences of a romantic character. +So the Elizabeth Philipse who, before crossing the +Neperan to approach the manor-house, stopped in +front of the snug parsonage at the roadside and +directed Cuff to knock at the door, was as real as +was then the parsonage itself.</p> +<p>Presently a face appeared furtively at one of the +up-stairs windows. The eyes thereof, having dwelt +for an instant on the mounted party shivering in the +road, opened wide in amazement, and a minute later, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28' name='page_28'></a>28</span> +after a sound of key-turning and bolt-drawing, the +door opened, and a good-looking lady appeared in +the doorway, backed up by a servant and two pretty +children who clung, half-curious, half-frightened, to +the lady’s skirts.</p> +<p>“Why, Miss Elizabeth! Is it possible—”</p> +<p>But Elizabeth cut the speech of the astonished +lady short.</p> +<p>“Yes, my dear Mrs. Babcock,—and I know how +dangerous, and all that! And, thank you, I’ll not +come in. I shall see you during the week. I’m +going to the manor-house to stay awhile, and I wish +my aunt to stay there with me, if you can spare her.”</p> +<p>“Why, yes,—of course,—but—here comes +your aunt.”</p> +<p>“Why, Elizabeth, what in the world—”</p> +<p>She was a somewhat stately woman at first sight, +was Elizabeth’s mother’s sister, Miss Sarah Williams; +but on acquaintance soon conciliated and found to +be not at all the formidable and haughty person she +would have had people believe her; not too far gone +in middle age, preserving, despite her spinsterhood, +much of her bloom and many of those little roundnesses +of contour which adorn but do not encumber.</p> +<p>“I haven’t time to say what, aunt,” broke in +Elizabeth. “I want to get to the manor-house +before it is night. You are to stay with me there +a week. So put on a wrap and come over as soon +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29' name='page_29'></a>29</span> +as you can, to be in time for supper. I’ll send a boy +for you, if you like.”</p> +<p>“Why, no, there’s some one here will walk over +with me, I dare say. But, la me, Elizabeth,—”</p> +<p>“Then I’ll look for you in five minutes. Good +night, Mrs. Babcock! I trust your little ones are +well.”</p> +<p>And she rode off, followed by Colden and Cuff, +leaving the two women in the parsonage doorway to +exchange what conjectures and what ejaculations of +wonderment the circumstances might require.</p> +<p>Night was falling when the riders crossed the +Neperan (then commonly known as the Saw Mill +River) by the post-road bridge, and gazed more +closely on the stone manor-house. Looking westward, +from the main road, across the hedge and +paling fence, they saw, first the vast lawn with its +comely trees, then the long east front of the house, +with its two little entrance-porches, the row of +windows in each of its two stories, the dormer windows +projecting from the sloping roof, the balustraded +walk on the roof-top; at both ends the +green and brown and yellow hints of what lay north +of the house, between it and the forest, and west of +the house, between it and the Hudson,—the box-hedged +gardens, the terraces breaking the slope to +the river, the deer paddock enclosed by high pickets, +the great orchard. The Hudson was nearer to the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30' name='page_30'></a>30</span> +house then than now, and its lofty further bank, +rich with growth of wood and leaf, was the backing +for the westward view. To the east, which the +riders put behind them in facing the manor-house, +were the hills of the interior.</p> +<p>“Not a sign of light from the house, and the +shutters all closed, as if it were a tomb! It looks +as cold and empty as one. I’ll soon make it warm +and live enough inside at least!” said Elizabeth, and +turned westward from the highway into the short +road that ran between the mansion and the north +bank of the Neperan, by the grist-mill and the gate +and the stables, down a picturesque descent to a +landing where that stream entered the Hudson.</p> +<p>She proceeded towards the gate, where, being near +the southeast corner of the house, one could see +that the south front was to the east front as the +base to the upright of a capital L turned backward; +that the south front resembled the east in all but +in being shorter and having a single porched entrance, +which was in its middle.</p> +<p>As the party neared the gate, there arose far +northward a sound of many horsemen approaching +at a fast gallop. Elizabeth at once reined in, to +listen. Major Colden and Cuff followed her example, +both looking at her in apprehension. The +galloping was on the Albany road, but presently +deviated eastwardly, then decreased.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31' name='page_31'></a>31</span></div> +<p>“They’ve turned up the road to Mile Square, +whoever they are,” said Elizabeth, and led the way +on to the gate, which Cuff, dismounting, quickly +opened, its fastening having been removed and not +replaced. “Lead your horse to the door, Cuff. +Then take off the portmanteaus and knock, and +tie the horses to the post.”</p> +<p>She rode up to the southern door in the east +front, and was there assisted to dismount by the +major, while Cuff followed in obedience. Colden, +as the sound of the distant galloping grew fainter +and fainter, showed more relief than he might have +felt had he known that a second troop was soon to +come speeding down in the track of the first.</p> +<p>Elizabeth, in haste to escape the wind, stepped +into the little porch and stood impatiently before the +dark, closed door of the house of her fathers.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32' name='page_32'></a>32</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_II_THE_MANORHOUSE' id='CHAPTER_II_THE_MANORHOUSE'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER II.</h2> +<h3>THE MANOR-HOUSE.</h3> +</div> +<p class='dropcap'><span class='dcap'>The</span> stone mansion before which the travellers +stood, awaiting answer to Cuff’s loud knock on the +heavy mahogany door, had already acquired antiquity +and memories. It was then, as to all south +of the porch which now sheltered the three visitors, +ninety-six years old, and as to the rest of the eastern +front thirty-three, so that its newest part was twice +the age of Elizabeth herself.</p> +<p>Her grandfather’s grandfather, the first lord of +the manor, built the southern portion in 1682, a +date not far from that of the erection of his upper +house, called Philipse Castle, at what is now Tarrytown,—but +whether earlier or later, let the local +historians dispute. This southern portion comprised +the entire south front, its length running east and +west, its width going back northward to, but not +including, the large east entrance-hall, into which +opened the southern door of the east front. The +new part, attached to the original house as the +upright to the short, broad base of the reversed L, +was added by Elizabeth’s grandfather, the second +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33' name='page_33'></a>33</span> +lord, in 1745. The addition, with the eastern section +of the old part, was thereafter the most used +portion, and the south front yielded in importance +to the new east front. The two porched doors in +the latter front matched each other, though the +southern one gave entrance to the fine guests in silk +and lace, ruffles and furbelows, who came up from +New York and the other great mansions of the +county to grace the frequent festivities of the Philipses; +while the northern one led to the spacious +kitchen where means were used to make the aforesaid +guests feel that they had not arrived in vain.</p> +<p>The original house, rectangular as to its main +part, had two gables, and, against its rear or +northern length, a pent-roofed wing, and probably a +veranda, the last covering the space later taken by +the east entrance-hall. The main original building, +on its first floor, had (and has) a wide entrance-hall +in its middle, with one large parlor on each side. +The second floor, reached by staircase from the +lower hall, duplicated the first, there being a middle +hall and two great square chambers. Overhead, +there was plentiful further room beneath the gable +roof. Under the western room of the first floor was +the earlier kitchen, which, before 1745, served in +relation to the guests who entered by the southern +door exactly as thereafter the new kitchen served in +relation to those entering by the eastern door,—making +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34' name='page_34'></a>34</span> +them glad they had come, by horse or coach, +over the long, bad, forest-bordered roads. Adjacent +to the old kitchen was abundant cellarage for the +stowing of many and diverse covetable things of +the trading first lord’s importation.</p> +<p>The Neperan joined the Hudson in the midst +of wilderness, where Indians and deer abounded, +when Vrederyck Flypse caused the old part of the +stone mansion to grow out of the green hill slope in +1682. He planted a foundation two feet thick and +thereupon raised walls whose thickness was twenty +inches. He would have a residence wherein he +might defy alike the savage elements, men and +beasts. For the front end of his entrance-hall he +imported a massive mahogany door made in 1681 in +Holland,—a door in two parts, so that the upper half +could be opened, while the lower half remained shut. +The rear door of that hall was similarly made. Ponderous +were the hinges and bolts, being ordinary +blacksmith work. Solid were the panel mouldings. +He brought Holland brick wherewith to +trim the openings of doorways and windows. He +laid the floor of his aforesaid kitchen with blue +stone. The chimney breasts and hearthstones of +his principal rooms were seven feet wide.</p> +<p>Here, in feudal fashion, with many servants and +slaves to do his bidding, and tenants to render him +dues, sometimes dwelt Vrederyck Flypse, with his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35' name='page_35'></a>35</span> +second wife, Catherine Van Cortlandt, and the children +left by his first wife, Margaret Hardenbrock; +but sometimes some of the family lived in New York, +and sometimes at the upper stone house, “Castle +Philipse,” by the Pocantico, near Sleepy Hollow +Church, of this Flypse’s founding. He built mills +near both his country-houses, and from the saw-mill +near the lower one did the Neperan receive the name +of Saw Mill River. He died in 1702, in his seventy-seventh +year, and the bones of him lie in Sleepy Hollow +Church.</p> +<p>But even before the first lord went, did “associations” +begin to attach to the old Dutch part of the +mansion. Besides the leading families of the province, +the traders,—Dutch and English,—and the +men with whom he held counsel upon affairs temporal +and spiritual, public and private, terrestrial and +marine, he had for guests red Indians, and, there +is every reason to believe, gentlemen who sailed the +seas under what particular flag best promoted their +immediate purposes, or under none at all. That old +story never <i>would</i> down, to the effect that the adventurous +Kidd levied not on the ships of Vrederyck +Flypse. The little landing-place where Neperan +joined Hudson, at which the Flypses stepped ashore +when they came up from New York by sloop instead +of by horse, was trodden surely by the feet of more +than one eminent oceanic exponent of—</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36' name='page_36'></a>36</span></div> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'>“The good old rule, the simple plan,<br /> +<span class='indent2'> </span>That they should take who have the power<br /> +And they should keep who can.”</p> +</td></tr></table> +<p>A great merchant may have more than one way of +doing business, and I would not undertake to account +for every barrel and box that was unladen at that little +landing. Nor would I be surprised to encounter +sometime, among the ghosts of Philipse Manor Hall, +that of the immortal Kidd himself, seated at dead of +night, across the table from the first lord of the +manor, before a blazing log in the seven-foot fireplace, +drinking liquor too good for the church-founding +lord to have questioned whence it came; and +leaving the next day without an introduction to the +family.</p> +<p>This 1682 part of the house, in facing south, had +the Albany road at its left, the Hudson at its right, +and at its front the lane that ran by the Neperan, +from the road to the river. Thus was the house for +sixty-three years. When the first lord’s grandson, +Elizabeth’s grandfather, in 1745 made the addition +at the north, what was the east gable-end of the +old house became part of the east front of the completed +mansion. The east rooms of the old house +were thus the southeast rooms of the completed +mansion, and, being common to both fronts, gained +by the change of relation, becoming the principal +parlor and the principal chamber. The east parlor, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37' name='page_37'></a>37</span> +entered on the west from the old hall, was entered +on the north from the new hall; and the new +hall was almost a duplicate of the old, but its +ceiling decorations and the mahogany balustrade of +its stairway were the more elaborate. This stairway, +like its fellow in the old hall, ascended, with two +turns, to a hall in the second story. Besides the +new halls, the addition included, on the first floor, a +large dining-room and the great kitchen; on the +second floor, five sleeping-chambers, and, in the +space beneath the roof-tree, dormitories for servants +and slaves. Elizabeth’s grandfather gave the house +the balustrade that crowns its roof from its northern +to its southern, and thence to its western end. He +had the interior elaborately finished. The old part +and its decorations were Dutch, but now things in +the province were growing less Dutch and more +English,—like the Philipse name and blood themselves,—and +so the new embellishments were English. +The second lord imported marble mantels +from England, had the walls beautifully wainscoted, +adorned the ceilings richly with arabesque work in +wood. He laid out, in the best English fashion, a +lawn between the eastern front and the Albany post-road. +He it was who married Joanna, daughter of +Governor Anthony Brockholst, of a very ancient +family of Lancashire, England; and who left provision +for the founding of St. John’s Church, across +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38' name='page_38'></a>38</span> +the Neperan from the manor-house, and for the +endowment of the glebe thereof. And in his long +time the manor-house flourished and grew venerable +and multiplied its associations. He had five children: +Frederick (Elizabeth’s father), Philip, Susannah, Mary +(the beauty, wooed of Washington in 1756, ’tis said, +and later wed by Captain Roger Morris), and Margaret; +and, at this manor-house alone, white servants +thirty, and black servants twenty; and a numerous +tenantry, happy because in many cases the yearly +rent was but nominal, being three or four pounds or +a pair of hens or a day’s work,—for the Philipses, +thanks to trade and to office-holding under the Crown, +and to the beneficent rule whereby money multiplies +itself, did not have to squeeze a living out of the +tillers of their land. The lord of the manor held +court leet and baron at the house of a tenant, and +sometimes even inflicted capital punishment.</p> +<p>In 1751, the second lord followed his grandfather +to the family vault in Sleepy Hollow Church. With +the accession of Elizabeth’s father, then thirty-one +years old, began the splendid period of the mansion; +then the panorama of which it was both witness and +setting wore its most diverse colors. The old contest +between English and French on this continent +was approaching its glorious climax. Whether they +were French emissaries coming down from Quebec, +by the Hudson or by horse, or English and colonial +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39' name='page_39'></a>39</span> +officers going up from New York in command of +troops, they must needs stop and pay their respects +to the lord of the manor of Philipsburgh, and drink +his wine, and eat his venison, and flirt with his +stunning sisters. Soldiers would go from New York +by the post-road to Philipsburgh, and then embark +at the little landing, to proceed up the Hudson, on +the way to be scalped by the red allies of the French +or mowed down by Montcalm’s gunners before impregnable +Ticonderoga. Many were the comings +and goings of the scarlet coat and green. The +Indian, too, was still sufficiently plentiful to contribute +much to the environing picturesqueness. But, +most of all, in those days, the mansion got its character +from the festivities devised by its own inmates +for the entertainment of the four hundred of that +time.</p> +<p>For Elizabeth’s mother, of the same given name, +was “very fond of display,” and in her day the family +“lived showily.” Her husband (who was usually +called Colonel Philipse, from his title in the militia, and +rarely if ever called lord) had the house refurnished. +It was he who had the princely terraces made on the +slope between the mansion and the Hudson, and +who had new gardens laid out and adorned with tall +avenues of box and rarest fruit-trees and shrubs. +Doubtless his deer, in their picketed enclosure, were +a sore temptation to the country marksmen who +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40' name='page_40'></a>40</span> +passed that way. Lady, or Madam, or Mrs. Philipse, +the colonel’s wife, bedazzled the admiring inhabitants +of West Chester County in many ways, but there is +a difference between authorities as to whether it was +she that used to drive four superb black horses over +the bad roads of the county, or whether it was her +mother-in-law, the second lord’s wife. Certainly it +was the latter that was killed by a fall from a carriage, +and certainly both had fine horses and magnificent +coaches, and drove over bad roads,—for all +roads were bad in those days, even in Europe, save +those the Romans left.</p> +<p>Of all the gay and hospitable occasions that brought, +through the mansion’s wide doors, courtly gentlemen +and high-and-mighty ladies, from their coaches, sleighs, +horses, or Hudson sloops, perhaps none saw more feasting +and richer display of ruffles and brocade than did +the wedding of Mary Philipse and Captain Morris, +seven years after the death of her father, and two after +the marriage of her brother. It was on the afternoon +of Sunday, Jan. 15, 1758. In the famous east parlor, +which has had much mention and will have more in +course of this narrative, was raised a crimson canopy +emblazoned with the Philipse crest,—a crowned +golden demi-lion rampant, upon a golden coronet. +Though the weather was not severe, there was snow +on the ground, and the guests began to drive up in +sleighs, under the white trees, at two o’clock. At +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41' name='page_41'></a>41</span> +three arrived the Rev. Henry Barclay, rector of +Trinity, New York, and his assistant, Mr. Auchmuty. +At half-past three the beauteous Mary (did so proud +a heart-breaker blush, I wonder?) and the British +captain stood under the crimson canopy and gold, +and were united, “in the presence of a brilliant +assembly,” says the old county historian.<a href='#Footnote_0001' class='fnanchor'>[1]</a> Miss Barclay, +Miss Van Cortlandt, and Miss De Lancey were +the bridesmaids, and the groomsmen were Mr. Heathcote +(of the family of the lords of the manor of +Scarsdale), Captain Kennedy (of Number One, Broadway), +and Mr. Watts. No need to report here who +were “among those present.” The wedding did not +occur yesterday, and the guests will not be offended +at the omission of their names; but one of them was +Acting Governor De Lancey. Colonel Philipse—wearing +the ancestral gold chain and jewelled badge +of the keepers of the deer forests of Bohemia—gave +the bride away, and with her went a good portion of +the earth’s surface, and much money, jewelry, and +plate.</p> +<p>After the wedding came the feast, and the guests—or +most of them—stayed so late they were not +sorry for the brilliant moonlight of the night that set +in upon their feasting. And now the legend! In the +midst of the feast, there appeared at the door of the +banquet-hall a tall Indian, with a scarlet blanket +close about him, and in solemn tones quoth he, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42' name='page_42'></a>42</span> +“Your possessions shall pass from you when the +eagle shall despoil the lion of his mane.” Thereupon +he disappeared, of course, as suddenly as he had +come, and the way in which historians have treated +this legend shows how little do historians apply to +their work the experiences of their daily lives,—such +an experience, for instance, as that of ignoring +some begging Irishwoman’s request for “a few pennies +in the Lord’s name,” and thereupon receiving a +volley of hair-raising curses and baleful predictions. +’Tis easy to believe in the Indian and the prophecy +of a passing of possessions, even though it was fulfilled; +but the time-clause involving the eagle and +the lion was doubtless added after the bird had +despoiled the beast.</p> +<p>It was years and years afterward, and when and +because the eagle had decided to attempt the said +despoiling, that there was a change of times at +Philipse Manor Hall. Meanwhile had young Frederick, +and Maria, and Elizabeth, and their brothers +and sisters arrived on the scene. What could one +have expected of the ease-loving, beauty-loving, book-loving, +luxury-loving, garden-loving, and wide-girthed +lord of the manor—connected by descent, kinship, +and marriage with royal office-holding—but Toryism? +In fact, nobody did expect else of him, for +though he tried in 1775 to conceal his sympathy +with the cause of the King, the powers in revolt +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43' name='page_43'></a>43</span> +inferred it, and took measures to deter him from +actively aiding the British forces. His removal to +Hartford, his return to the manor-house,—where he +was for awhile, in the fall of 1776, at the time of +the battle of White Plains,—his memorable business +trip to New York, and his parole-breaking continuance +there, heralded the end of the old régime +in Philipse Manor Hall. The historians say that +at that time of Colonel Philipse’s last stay at the +hall, Washington quartered there for awhile, and +occupied the great southwestern chamber. Doubtless +Washington did occupy that chamber once +upon a time, but his itinerary and other circumstances +are against its having been immediately +before or immediately after the battle of White +Plains. Some of the American officers were there +about the time. As for the colonel’s family, it did +not abandon the house until 1777. With the occasions +when, during the first months of Revolutionary +activity in the county, use was sought of the +secret closets and the underground passage thoughtfully +provided by the earlier Philipses in days of risk +from Indians, fear of Frenchmen, and dealings with +pirates, this history has naught to do.</p> +<p>In 1777, then, the family took a farewell view of +the old house, and somewhat sadly, more resentfully, +wended by familiar landmarks to New York,—to +await there a joyous day of returning, when the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44' name='page_44'></a>44</span> +King’s regiments should have scattered the rebels +and hanged their leaders. John Williams, steward of +the manor, was left to take care of the house against +that day, with one white housemaid, who was of kin +to him, and one black slave, a man. The outside shutters +of the first story, the inside shutters above, were +fastened tight; the bolts of the ponderous mahogany +doors were strengthened, the stables and mills +and outbuildings emptied and locked. Much that +was precious in the house went with the family +and horses and servants to New York. Yet be +sure that proper means of subsistence for Williams +and his two helpers were duly stowed away, for the +faithful steward had to himself the discharge of that +matter.</p> +<p>So wholesale a departure went with much bustle, +and it was not till he returned from seeing the numerous +party off, and found himself alone with the +maid and the slave in the great entrance-hall, which +a few minutes before had been noisy with voices, +that Williams felt to the heart the sudden loneliness +of the place. The face of Molly, the maid, +was white and ready for weeping, and there was a +gravity on the chocolate visage of black Sam that +gave the steward a distinctly tremulous moment. +Perhaps he recalled the prediction of the Indian, +and had a flash of second sight, and perceived that +the third lord of the manor was to be the last. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45' name='page_45'></a>45</span> +Howbeit, he cleared his throat and set black Sam +to laying in fire-wood as for a siege, and Molly to +righting the disorder caused by the exodus; betook +himself cellarward, and from a hidden place drew +forth a bottle of an old vintage, and comforted his +solitude. He was a snug, honest, discreet man of +forty, was the steward, slim but powerful, looking +his office, besides knowing and fulfilling it.</p> +<p>But, as the months passed, he became used to +the solitude, and the routine of life in the closed-up, +memory-haunted old house took on a certain charm. +The living was snug enough in what parts of the +mansion the steward and his two servitors put to +their own daily use. As for the other parts, the +great dark rooms and entrance-halls, we may be +sure that when the steward went the rounds, and +especially after a visit to the wine-cellar, he found +them not so empty, but peopled with the vague and +shifting images of the many beings, young and old, +who had filled the house with life in brighter days. +Then, if ever, did noise of creaking stair or sound +as of human breath, or, perchance, momentary vision +of flitting face against the dark, betray the present +ghost of some old-time habitué of the mansion.</p> +<p>When the raiding and foraging and marauding +began in the county, the manor-house was not molested. +The partisan warfare had not yet reached +its magnitude. After the battle of White Plains +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46' name='page_46'></a>46</span> +in 1776, the British had retained New York City, +while the main American army, leaving a small +force above, had gone to New Jersey. Late in +1777, the British main army, leaving New York +garrisoned, had departed to contest with the Americans +for Philadelphia. Not until July, 1778, after +Monmouth battle, did the British main army return +to New York, and the American forces form the +great arc, with their chief camp in upper West +Chester County. Then was great increase of foray +and pillage. The manor-house was of course exempt +from harm at the hands of King’s troops and +Tory raiders, while it was protected from American +regulars by Washington’s policy against useless +destruction, and from the marauding “Skinners” +by its nearness to the British lines and by the solidity +of its walls, doors, and shutters. Its gardens +suffered, its picket fences and gate fastenings were +tampered with, its orchards prematurely plucked. +But its trees were spared by the British foragers, +and the house itself was no longer in demand as +officers’ quarters, being too near King’s Bridge for +safe American occupancy, but not sufficiently near +for British. Hessians and Tories, though, patrolled +the near-by roads, and sometimes Continental troops +camped in the neighboring hills. In 1778, the +American Colonel Gist, whose corps was then at +the foot of Boar Hill, north of the manor-house, was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47' name='page_47'></a>47</span> +paying his court to the handsome widow Babcock, +in the parsonage, when he was surprised by a force +of yagers, rangers, and Loyalist light horse, and got +away in the nick of time.<a href='#Footnote_0002' class='fnanchor'>[2]</a> The parsonage, unlike +the manor-house, was often visited by officers on +their way hither and thither, but I will not say it +was for this reason that Miss Sally Williams, the +sister of Colonel Philipse’s wife, preferred living in +the parsonage with the Babcocks rather than in the +great deserted mansion.</p> +<p>On a dark November afternoon, Williams had +sent black Sam to the orchard for some winter +apples, and the slave, after the fashion of his race, +was taking his time over the errand. The shades +of evening gathered while the steward was making +his usual rounds within the mansion. Molly, whose +housewifely instincts ever asserted themselves, had +of her own accord made a dusting tour of the rooms +and halls. She was on the first landing of the stairway +in the east hall, just about to finish her task +in the waning light admitted by the window over the +landing and by the fanlight over the front door, +when, as she applied her cloth to the mahogany balustrade, +the door of the east parlor opened, and +Williams came out of that dark apartment.</p> +<p>“Lord, Molly!” he said, a moment later, having +started at suddenly beholding her. “I thought +you were a ghost! It’s time to get supper, I think, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48' name='page_48'></a>48</span> +from the look of the day outside. I’ll have to make +a light.”</p> +<p>From a closet in the side of the staircase he took +a candle, flint, and tinder, talking the while to Molly, +as she rubbed the balusters. Having produced a +tiny candle-flame that did not light up half the +hall, Williams started towards the dining-room, but +stopped at a distant sound of galloping horses, +which were evidently coming down the Albany road. +The steward and the maid exchanged conjectures as +to whether this meant a British patrol or “Rebel” +dragoons, “Skinners” or Hessian yagers, Highlanders, +or Loyalist light horse; and then observed +from the sound that the horses had turned aside +into the Mile Square road.</p> +<p>But now came a new sound of horses, and though +it was of only a few, and those walking, it gave +Williams quite a start, for the footfalls were manifestly +approaching the mansion. They as manifestly +stopped before that very hill. And then came a +sharp knock on the mahogany door.</p> +<p>“See who it is,” whispered Molly.</p> +<p>Williams hesitated. The knock was repeated.</p> +<p>“Who’s there?” called out Williams.</p> +<p>There was an answer, but the words could not +be made out.</p> +<p>“Who?” repeated Williams.</p> +<p>This time the answer was clear enough.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49' name='page_49'></a>49</span></div> +<p>“It’s I, Williams! Don’t keep me standing here +in the wind all night.”</p> +<p>“It’s Miss Elizabeth!” cried Molly; and Williams, +in a kind of daze of astonishment, hastily +unlocked, unbolted, and threw open the door.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50' name='page_50'></a>50</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_III_THE_SOUND_OF_GALLOPING' id='CHAPTER_III_THE_SOUND_OF_GALLOPING'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER III.</h2> +<h3>THE SOUND OF GALLOPING.</h3> +</div> +<p class='dropcap'><span class='dcap'>A rush</span> of wind came in from the outer gloom and +almost blew out the candle. Williams held up his +hand to protect the flame and stepped aside from +before the doorway.</p> +<p>The wind was promptly followed by Elizabeth, +who strode in with the air that a king might show +on reentering one of his palaces, still holding her +whip in her gloved hand. Behind her came Colden, +the picture of moody dejection. When Cuff had +entered with the portmanteaus, Williams, seeing but +three horses without, closed the door, locked it, and +looked with inquiry and bewilderment at Elizabeth.</p> +<p>“Br-r-r-r!” she ejaculated. “Light up my chamber, +Molly, and have a fire in it; then make some +hot tea, and get me something to eat.”</p> +<p>Elizabeth’s impetuosity sent the open-mouthed +maid flying up-stairs to execute the first part of the +order, whereupon the mistress turned to the wondering +steward.</p> +<p>“I’ve come to spend a week at the manor-house, +Williams. Cuff, take those to my room.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51' name='page_51'></a>51</span></div> +<p>The black boy, with the portmanteaus, followed in +the way Molly had taken, but with less rapidity. +By this time Williams had recovered somewhat from +his surprise, and regained his voice and something +of his stewardly manner.</p> +<p>“I scarcely expected any of the family out from +New York these times, miss. There——”</p> +<p>“I suppose not!” Elizabeth broke in. “Have +some one put away the horses, Williams, or they’ll +be shivering. It’s mighty cold for the time of year.”</p> +<p>“I’ll go myself, ma’am. There’s only black Sam, +you know, and he isn’t back from the orchard. I +sent him to get some apples.” And the steward set +the candlestick on the newel post of the stairway, +and started for the door.</p> +<p>“No, let Cuff go,” said Elizabeth, sitting down on +a settle that stood with its back to the side of the +staircase. “You start a fire in the room next mine, +for aunt Sally. She’ll be over from the parsonage +in a few minutes.”</p> +<p>Williams thereupon departed in quest of the +stable key, inwardly devoured by a mighty curiosity +as to the wherefore of Elizabeth’s presence +here in the company of none but her affianced, +and also the wherefore of that gentleman’s manifest +depression of spirits. His curiosity was not +lessened when the major called after him:</p> +<p>“Tell Cuff he may feed my horse, but not take +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52' name='page_52'></a>52</span> +the saddle off. I must ride back to New York as +soon as the beast is rested.”</p> +<p>“Why,” said Elizabeth to Colden, “you may stay +for a bite of supper.”</p> +<p>“No, thank you! I am not hungry.”</p> +<p>“A glass of wine, then,” said the girl, quite heedless +of his tone; “if there is any left in the house.”</p> +<p>“No wine, I thank you!” Colden stood motionless, +too far back in the hall to receive much light +from the feeble candle, like a shadowy statue of the +sulks.</p> +<p>“As you will!”</p> +<p>Whereupon Elizabeth, as if she had satisfied her +conscience regarding what was due from her in the +name of hospitality, rose, and opened the door to +the east parlor.</p> +<p>“Ugh! How dark and lonely the house is! No +wonder aunt Sally chose to live at the parsonage.” +After one look into the dark apartment, she closed +the door. “Well, I’ll warm up the place a bit. +Sorry you can’t stay with us, major.”</p> +<p>“It is only you who send me away,” said Colden, +dismally and reproachfully. “I could have got +longer leave of absence. You let me escort you +here, because no gentleman of your family will lend +himself to your reckless caprice. And then, having +no further present use for me, you send me about +my business!”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53' name='page_53'></a>53</span></div> +<p>Elizabeth, preferring to pace the hall until her +chamber should be heated, and her aunt should +arrive, was striking her cloak with her riding-whip +at each step; not that the cloak needed dusting, but +as a method of releasing surplus energy.</p> +<p>“But I do have further present use for you,” she +said. “You are going back to New York to inform +my dear timid parents and sisters and brothers that +I’ve arrived here safe. They’ll not sleep till you tell +them so.”</p> +<p>“One of your slaves might bear that news as +well,” quoth the major.</p> +<p>“Well, are you not forever calling yourself my +slave? Besides, my devotion to King George won’t +let me weaken his forces by holding one of his officers +from duty longer than need be.”</p> +<p>But Colden was not to be cheered by pleasantry.</p> +<p>“What a man you are! So cross at my sending +you back that you’ll neither eat nor drink before +going. Pray don’t pout, Colden. ’Tis foolish!”</p> +<p>“I dare say! A man in love does many foolish +things!”</p> +<p>The utterance of this great and universal truth +had not time to receive comment from Elizabeth +before Cuff reappeared, with the stable key; and at +the same instant, a rather delicate, inoffensive knock +was heard on the front door.</p> +<p>“That must be aunt Sally,” said Elizabeth. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54' name='page_54'></a>54</span> +“Let her in, Cuff. Then go and stable the horses. +My poor Cato will freeze!”</p> +<p>It was indeed Miss Sarah Williams, and in a state +of breathlessness. She had been running, perhaps +to escape the unseemly embraces of the wind, which +had taken great liberties with her skirts,—liberties +no less shocking because of the darkness of the +evening; for though De la Rochefoucauld has settled +it that man’s alleged courage takes a vacation when +darkness deprives it of possible witnesses, no one will +accuse an elderly maiden’s modesty of a like eclipse.</p> +<p>“My dear child, what could have induced you——” +were her first words to Elizabeth; but her attention +was at that point distracted by seeing Cuff, outside +the threshold, about to pull the door shut. “Don’t +close the door yet, boy. Some one is coming.”</p> +<p>Cuff thereupon started on his task of stabling the +three horses, leaving the door open. The flame of +the candle on the newel post was blown this way +and that by the in-rushing wind.</p> +<p>“It’s old Mr. Valentine,” explained Miss Sally to +Elizabeth. “He offered to show me over from the +parsonage, where he happened to be calling, so I +didn’t wait for Mrs. Babcock’s boy——”</p> +<p>“You found Mr. Valentine pleasanter company, +I suppose, aunty, dear,” put in Elizabeth, who spared +neither age nor dignity. “He’s a widower again, +isn’t he?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55' name='page_55'></a>55</span></div> +<p>Miss Sally blushed most becomingly. Her plump +cheeks looked none the worse for this modest suffusion.</p> +<p>“Fie, child! He’s eighty years old. Though, to +be sure, the attentions of a man of his experience +and judgment aren’t to be considered lightly.”</p> +<p>Those were the days when well-bred people could—and +often did, naturally and without effort—improvise +grammatical sentences of more than twelve +words, in the course of ordinary, every-day talk.</p> +<p>“We started from the parsonage together,” went +on Miss Sally, “but I was so impatient I got ahead. +He doesn’t walk as briskly as he did twenty years +ago.”</p> +<p>Yet briskly enough for his years did the octogenarian +walk in through the little pillared portico a +moment later. Such deliberation as his movements +had might as well have been the mark of a proper +self-esteem as the effect of age. He was a slender +but wiry-looking old gentleman, was Matthias Valentine, +of Valentine’s Hill; in appearance a credit to +the better class of countrymen of his time. His +white hair was tied in a cue, as if he were himself a +landowner instead of only a manorial tenant. Yet +no common tenant was he. His father, a dragoon +in the French service, had come down from Canada +and settled on Philipse Manor, and Matthias had +been proprietor of Valentine’s Hill, renting from +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56' name='page_56'></a>56</span> +the Philipses in earlier days than any one could +remember. His grandsons now occupied the Hill, +and the old man was in the full enjoyment of the +leisure he had won. His rather sharp countenance, +lighted by honest gray eyes, was a mixture of good-humor, +childlike ingenuousness, and innocent jocosity. +The neatness of his hair, his carefully shaven +face, and the whole condition of his brown cloth coat +and breeches and worsted stockings, denoted a fastidiousness +rarely at any time, and particularly in +the good (or bad) old days, to be found in common +with rustic life and old age. Did some of the dandyism +of the French dragoon survive in the old Philipsburgh +farmer?</p> +<p>He carried a walking-stick in one hand, a lighted +lantern in the other. After bowing to the people in +the hall, he set down his lantern, closed the door +and bolted it, then took up his lantern, blew out the +flame thereof, and set it down again.</p> +<p>“Whew!” he puffed, after his exertion. “Windy +night, Miss Elizabeth! Windy night, Major Colden! +Winter’s going to set in airly this year. There +ain’t been sich a frosty November since ’64, when +the river was froze over as fur down as Spuyten +Duyvel.”</p> +<p>There was in the old man’s high-pitched voice a +good deal of the squeak, but little of the quaver, of +senility.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57' name='page_57'></a>57</span></div> +<p>“You’ll stay to supper, I hope, Mr. Valentine.”</p> +<p>From Elizabeth this was a sufficient exhibition of +graciousness. She then turned her back on the +two men and began to tell her aunt of her arrangements.</p> +<p>“Thankee, ma’am,” said old Valentine, whose +sight did not immediately acquaint him, in the dim +candle-light, with Elizabeth’s change of front; wherefore +he continued, placidly addressing her back: “I +wouldn’t mind a glass and a pipe with friend Williams +afore trudging back to the Hill.”</p> +<p>He then walked over to the disconsolate Colden, +and, with a very gay-doggish expression, remarked +in an undertone:</p> +<p>“Fine pair o’ girls yonder, major?”</p> +<p>He had known Colden from the time of the latter’s +first boyhood visits to the manor, and could venture +a little familiarity.</p> +<p>“Girls?” blurted the major, startled out of his +meditations.</p> +<p>The old country beau chuckled.</p> +<p>“We all know what’s betwixt you and the niece. +How about the aunt and me taking a lesson from +you two, eh?”</p> +<p>Even the gloomy officer could not restrain a +momentary smile.</p> +<p>“What, Mr. Valentine? Do you seriously think +of marrying?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58' name='page_58'></a>58</span></div> +<p>“Why not? I’ve been married afore, hain’t I? +What’s to hinder?”</p> +<p>“Why, there’s the matter of age.” Colden rather +enjoyed being inconsiderate of people’s feelings.</p> +<p>“Oh, the lady is not so old,” said the octogenarian, +placidly, casting a judicial, but approving look at the +commanding figure of Miss Sally.</p> +<p>Then, as he had been for a considerable time on +his legs, having walked over from the Hill to the +parsonage that afternoon, and as at best his knees +bent when he stood, he sat down on the settle by +the staircase.</p> +<p>Miss Sally, though she knew it useless to protest +further against Elizabeth’s caprice, nevertheless felt +it her duty to do so, especially as Major Colden +would probably carry to the family a report of her +attitude towards that caprice.</p> +<p>“Did you ever hear of such rashness, major? A +young girl like Elizabeth coming out here in time of +war, when this neutral ground between the lines is +overridden and foraged to death, and deluged with +blood by friend as well as foe? La me! I can’t +understand her, if she <i>is</i> my sister’s child.”</p> +<p>“Why, aunt Sally, <i>you</i> stay out here through it +all,” said Elizabeth, not as much to depreciate the +dangers as to give her aunt an opportunity of posing +as a very courageous person.</p> +<p>Miss Sally promptly accepted the opportunity. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59' name='page_59'></a>59</span> +“Oh,” said she, with a mien of heroic self-sacrifice, +“I couldn’t let poor Grace Babcock stay at the parsonage +with nobody but her children; besides I’m +not Colonel Philipse’s daughter, and who cares +whether I’m loyal to the King or not? But a girl +like you isn’t made for the dangers and privations +we’ve had to put up with out here since the King’s +troops have occupied New York, and Washington’s +rebel army has held the country above. I’m surprised +the family let her come, or that you’d countenance +it by coming with her, major.”</p> +<p>“We all opposed it,” said Colden, with a sigh. +“But—you know Elizabeth!”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Elizabeth herself with cheerful nonchalance, +“Elizabeth always has her way. I was +hungry for a sight of the place, and the more the +old house is in danger, the more I love it. I’m here +for a week, and that ends it. The place doesn’t +seem to have suffered any. They haven’t even +quartered troops here.”</p> +<p>“Not since the American officers stayed here in +the fall o’ ’76,” put in old Mr. Valentine, from the +settle. “I reckon you’ll be safe enough here, Miss +Elizabeth.”</p> +<p>“Of course I shall. Why, our troops patrol all this +part of the country, Lord Cathcart told us at King’s +Bridge, and <i>we</i> have naught to fear from them.”</p> +<p>“No, the British foragers won’t dare treat Philipse +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60' name='page_60'></a>60</span> +Manor-house as they do the homes of some of +their loyal friends,” said Miss Sally, who was no less +proud of her relationship with the Philipses, because +it was by marriage and not by blood. “But the horrible +”Skinners,“ who don’t spare even the farms of +their fellow rebels—”</p> +<p>“Bah!” said Elizabeth. “The scum of the earth! +Williams has weapons here, and with him and the +servants I’ll defend the place against all the rebel +cut-throats in the county.”</p> +<p>The major thought to make a last desperate +attempt to dissuade Elizabeth from remaining.</p> +<p>“That’s all well enough,” said he; “but there are +the rebel regulars, the dragoons. They’ll be raiding +down to our very lines, one of these days, if only in +retaliation. You know how Lord Cornwallis’s party +under General Grey, over in Jersey, the other night, +killed a lot of Baylor’s cavalry,—Mrs. Washington’s +Light Horse, they called the troop. And the Hessians +made a great foray on the rebel families this +side the river.”</p> +<p>“Ay,” chirped old Valentine; “but the American +Colonel Butler, and their Major Lee, of Virginia, fell +on the Hessian yagers ’tween Dobbs’s Ferry and +Tarrytown, and killed ever so many of ’em,—and I +wasn’t sorry for that, neither!”</p> +<p>“Oho!” said Colden, “you belong to the opposition.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61' name='page_61'></a>61</span></div> +<p>“Oh, I’m neither here nor there,” replied the old +man. “But they say that there Major Lee, of Virginia, +is the gallantest soldier in Washington’s army. +He’d lead his men against the powers of Satan if +Washington gave the word. Light Horse Harry, +they call him,—and a fine dashing troop o’ light +horse he commands.”</p> +<p>“No more dashing, I’ll wager, than some of ours,” +said Elizabeth, whose mood for the moment permitted +her to talk with reason and moderation; +“not even counting the Germans. And as for leaders, +what do you say to Simcoe, of the Queen’s +Rangers, or Emmerick, or Tarleton, or”—turning +to Colden—“your cousin James De Lancey, of this +county, major?”</p> +<p>The major, notwithstanding his Toryism, did not +enter with enthusiasm into Elizabeth’s admiration +for these brave young cavalry leaders. Staten Island +and East New Jersey had not offered him as great +opportunities for distinction as they had had. It +was, therefore, Miss Sally who next spoke.</p> +<p>“Well, Heaven knows there are enough on either +side to devastate the land and rob us of comfort and +peace. One wakes in the middle of the night, at the +clatter of horses riding by like the wind, and wonders +whether it’s friend or foe, and trembles till +they’re out of hearing, for fear the door is to be broken +in or the house fired. And the sound of shots +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62' name='page_62'></a>62</span> +in the night, and the distant glare of flames when +some poor farmer’s home is burned over his head!”</p> +<p>“Ay,” added Mr. Valentine, “and all the cattle +and crops go to the foragers, so it’s no use raising +any more than you can hide away for your own +larder.”</p> +<p>Elizabeth was beginning to be bored, and saw +nothing to gain from a continuation of these recitals. +Doubtless, by this time, her room was lighted and +warm. So, thoughtless of Colden, she mounted the +first step of the stairway, and said:</p> +<p>“I have no doubt Williams has contrived to hide +away enough provisions for <i>our</i> use. So <i>I</i> sha’n’t +suffer from hunger, and as for Lee’s Light Horse, +I defy them and all other rebels. Come, aunt +Sally!”</p> +<p>She had ascended as far as to the fourth step of +the stairway, and Miss Sally was about to follow, when +there was heard, above the wind’s moaning, another +sound of galloping horses. Like the previous similar +sound, it came from the north.</p> +<p>Elizabeth stopped and stood on the fourth step. +Miss Sally raised her finger to bid silence. Colden’s +attitude became one of anxious attention, while he +dropped his hat on the settle and drew his cloak close +about him, so that it concealed his uniform, sword, +and pistol. The galloping continued.</p> +<p>When time came for it to turn off eastward, as it +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63' name='page_63'></a>63</span> +would do should the riders take the road to Mile +Square, it did not so. Instead, as the sound unmistakably +indicated, it came on down the post-road.</p> +<p>“Hessians, perhaps!” Miss Sally whispered.</p> +<p>“Or De Lancey’s Cowboys,” said Valentine, but +not in a whisper.</p> +<p>Elizabeth cast a sharp look at the old man, as if to +show disapproval of his use of the Whigs’ nickname +for De Lancey’s troop. But the octogenarian did +not quail.</p> +<p>“They’re riding towards the manor-house,” he +added, a moment later.</p> +<p>“Let us hope they’re friends,” said Colden, in a +tone low and slightly unsteady.</p> +<p>Elizabeth disdained to whisper.</p> +<p>“Maybe it is Lee’s Light Horse,” she said, in her +usual voice, but ironically, addressing Valentine. “In +that case we should tremble for our lives, I suppose.”</p> +<p>“Whoever they are, they’ve stopped before the +house!” said Miss Sally, in quite a tremble.</p> +<p>There was a noise of horses pawing and snorting +outside, of directions being given rapidly, and of two +or three horses leaving the main band for another +part of the grounds. Then was heard a quick, firm +step on the porch floor, and in the same instant a +sharp, loud knock on the door.</p> +<p>No one in the hall moved; all looked at Elizabeth.</p> +<p>“A very valiant knock!” said she, with more +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64' name='page_64'></a>64</span> +irony. “It certainly <i>must</i> be Lee’s Light Horse. +Will you please open the door, Colden?”</p> +<p>“What?” ejaculated Colden.</p> +<p>“Certainly,” said Elizabeth, turning on the stairway, +so as to face the door; “to show we’re not +afraid.”</p> +<p>Jack Colden looked at her a moment demurringly, +then went to the door, undid the fastenings, and +threw it open, keeping his cloak close about him +and immediately stepping back into the shadow.</p> +<p>A handsome young officer strode in, as if ’twere +a mighty gust of wind that sent him. He wore a +uniform of blue with red facings,—a uniform that +had seen service,—was booted and spurred, without +greatcoat or cloak. A large pistol was in his belt, +and his left hand rested on the hilt of a sword. He +swept past Colden, not seeing him; came to a stop +in the centre of the hall, and looked rapidly around +from face to face.</p> +<p>“Your servant, ladies and gentlemen!” he said, +with a swift bow and a flourish of his dragoon’s hat. +His eye rested on Elizabeth.</p> +<p>“Who are you?” she demanded, coldly and imperiously, +from the fourth step.</p> +<p>“I’m Captain Peyton, of Lee’s Light Horse,” +said he.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65' name='page_65'></a>65</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_IV_THE_CONTINENTAL_DRAGOON' id='CHAPTER_IV_THE_CONTINENTAL_DRAGOON'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER IV.</h2> +<h3>THE CONTINENTAL DRAGOON.</h3> +</div> +<p class='dropcap'><span class='dcap'>The</span> Peytons of Virginia were descended from a +younger son of the Peytons of Pelham, England, of +which family was Sir Edward Peyton, of Pelham, +knight and baronet. Sir Edward’s relative, the first +American Peyton, settled in Westmoreland County. +Within one generation the family had spread to Stafford +County, and within another to Loudoun County +also. Thus it befell that there was a Mr. Craven +Peyton, of Loudoun County, justice of the peace, +vestryman, and chief warden of Shelburne Parish. +He was the father of nine sons and two daughters. +One of the sons was Harry.</p> +<p>This Harry grew up longing to be a soldier. Military +glory was his ambition, as it had been Washington’s; +but not as a mere provincial would he be +satisfied to excel. He would have a place as a regular +officer, in an army of the first importance, on the +fields of Europe. Before the Revolution, Americans +were, like all colonials, very loyal to their English +King. Therefore would Harry Peyton be content +with naught less than a King’s commission in the +King’s army.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66' name='page_66'></a>66</span></div> +<p>His father, glad to be guided in choosing a future +for one of so many sons, sent Harry to London in +1770, to see something of life, and so managed matters, +through his English relations, that the boy was +in 1772, at the age of nineteen, the possessor, by +purchase, of an ensign’s commission. He was soon +sent to do garrison duty in Ireland, being enrolled +with the Sixty-third Regiment of Foot.</p> +<p>He had lived gaily enough during his two years +in London, occupying lodgings, being patronized by +his relations, seeing enough of society, card-tables, +drums, routs, plays, prize-fights, and other diversions. +He had made visits in the country and showed what +he had learned in Virginia about cock-fighting, fox-hunting +and shooting, and had taken lessons from +London fencing-masters. A young gentleman from +Virginia, if well off and “well connected,” could have +a fine time in London in those days; and Harry +Peyton had it.</p> +<p>But he could never forget that he was a colonial. +If he were treated by his English associates as an +equal, or even at times with a particular consideration, +there was always a kind of implication that he +was an exception among colonials. Other colonial +youths were similarly treated, and some of these +were glad to be held as exceptions, and even joined +in the derision of the colonials who were not. For +these Harry Peyton had a mighty disgust and detestation. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67' name='page_67'></a>67</span> +He did not enjoy receiving as Harry Peyton +a tolerance and kindness that would have been denied +him as merely an American. And he sometimes +could not avoid seeing that, even as Harry Peyton, he +was regarded as compensating, by certain attractive +qualities in the nature of amiability and sincerity, for +occasional exhibitions of what the English rated as +social impropriety and bad taste. Often, at the +English lofty derision of colonials, at the English +air of self-evident superiority, the English pretence +of politely concealed shock or pain or offence at +some infringement of a purely superficial conduct-code +of their own arbitrary fabrication, he ground +his teeth in silence; for in one respect, he had as +good manners as the English had then, or have +now,—when in Rome he did not resent or deride +what the Romans did. He began to think that the +lot of a self-respecting American among the English, +even if he were himself made an exception of and +well dealt with, was not the most enviable one. And, +after he joined the army, he thought this more and +more every day. But he would show them what a +colonial could rise to! Yet that would prove nothing +for his countrymen, as he would always, on his +meritorious side, be deemed an exception.</p> +<p>His military ambition, however, predominated, and +he had no thought of leaving the King’s service.</p> +<p>The disagreement between the King and the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68' name='page_68'></a>68</span> +American Colonies grew, from “a cloud no bigger +than a man’s hand,” to something larger. But +Harry heard little of it, and that entirely from the +English point of view. He received but three or +four letters a year from his own people, and the +time had not come for his own people to write much +more than bare facts. They were chary of opinions. +Harry supposed that the new discontent in the Colonies, +after the repeal of the Stamp Act and the +withdrawal of the two regiments from Boston Town +to Castle William, was but that of the perpetually +restless, the habitual fomenters, the notoriety-seeking +agitators, the mob, whose circumstances could +not be made worse and might be improved by disturbances. +Now the Americans, from being a subject +of no interest to English people, a subject +discussed only when some rare circumstance brought +it up, became more talked of. Sometimes, when +Americans were blamed for opposing taxes to support +soldiery used for their own protection, Harry +said that the Americans could protect themselves; +that the English, in wresting Canada from the +French, had sought rather English prestige and +dominion than security for the colonials; that the +flourishing of the Colonies was despite English +neglect, not because of English fostering; that if +the English had solicitude for America, it was for +America as a market for their own trade. Thereupon +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69' name='page_69'></a>69</span> +his fellow officers would either laugh him out, +as if he were too ignorant to be argued with, or +freeze him out, as if he had committed some grave +outrage on decorum. And Harry would rage inwardly, +comparing his own ignorance and indecorousness +with the knowledge and courtesy exemplified in the +assertion of Doctor Johnson, when that great but +narrow Englishman said, in 1769, of Americans, +“Sir, they are a race of convicts, and ought to +be thankful for anything we allow them short of +hanging.”</p> +<p>There came to Harry, now and then, scraps of +vague talk of uneasiness in Boston Town, whose port +the British Parliament had closed, to punish the +Yankees for riotously destroying tea on which there +was a tax; of the concentration there of British +troops from Halifax, Quebec, New York, the Jerseys, +and other North American posts. But there was +not, in Harry’s little world of Irish garrison life, the +slightest expectation of actual rebellion or even of a +momentous local tumult in the American Colonies.</p> +<p>Imagine, therefore, his feelings when, one morning +late in March in 1775, he was told that, within +a month’s time, the Sixty-third, and other regiments, +would embark at Cork for either Boston or New +York!</p> +<p>There could not be a new French or Spanish +invasion. As for the Indians, never again would +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70' name='page_70'></a>70</span> +British regulars be sent against them. Was it, +then, Harry’s own countrymen that his regiment +was going to fight?</p> +<p>His comrades inferred the cause of his long face, +and laughed. He would have no more fighting to +do in America against the Americans than he had +to do in Ireland against the Irish, or than an +English officer in an English barrack town had to +do against the English. The reinforcements were +being sent only to overawe the lawless element. +The mere sight of these reinforcements would obviate +any occasion for their use. The regiment would +merely do garrison duty in America instead of in +Ireland or elsewhere.</p> +<p>He had none to advise or enlighten him. What +was there for him to do but sail with his regiment, +awaiting disclosures or occurrences to guide? What +misgivings he had, he kept to himself, though once +on the voyage, as he looked from the rocking transport +towards the west, he confided to Lieutenant +Dalrymple his opinion that ’twas damned bad luck +sent <i>his</i> regiment to America, of all places.</p> +<p>When he landed in Boston, June 12th, he found, +as he had expected, that the town was full of soldiers, +encamped on the common and quartered +elsewhere; but also, as he had not expected, that +the troops were virtually confined to the town, +which was fortified at the Neck; that the last +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71' name='page_71'></a>71</span> +time they had marched into the country, through +Lexington to Concord, they had marched back +again at a much faster gait, and left many score +dead and wounded on the way; and that a host +of New Englanders in arms were surrounding Boston! +The news of April 19th had not reached Europe +until after Harry had sailed, nor had it met +his regiment on the ocean. When he heard it now, +he could only become more grave and uneasy. But +the British officers were scornful of their clodhopper +besiegers. In due time this rabble should be +scattered like chaff. But was it a mere rabble? +Certainly. Were not the best people in Boston +loyal to the King’s government? Some of them, +yes. But, as Harry went around with open eyes +and ears, eager for information, he found that many +of them were with the “rabble.” News was easy +to be had. The citizens were allowed to pass the +barrier on the Neck, if they did not carry arms or +ammunition, and there was no strict discipline in +the camp of New Englanders. Therefore Harry +soon learned how Doctor Warren stood, and the +Adamses, and Mr. John Hancock; and that a Congress, +representing all the Colonies, was now sitting +at Philadelphia, for the second time; and that in +the Congress his own Virginia was served by such +gentlemen as Mr. Richard Henry Lee, Mr. Patrick +Henry, Mr. Thomas Jefferson, and Colonel Washington. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72' name='page_72'></a>72</span> +And the Virginians had shown as ready +and firm a mind for revolt against the King’s +measures as the New Englanders had. Here, for +once, the sympathies of trading Puritan and fox-hunting +Virginian were one. Moreover, a Yankee +was a fellow American, and, after five years of +contact with English self-esteem, Harry warmed at +the sight of a New Englander as he never would +have done before he had left Virginia.</p> +<p>But it did not conduce to peace of mind, in his +case, to be convinced that the colonial remonstrance +was neither local nor of the rabble. The more +general and respectable it was, the more embarrassing +was his own situation. Would it really +come to war? With ill-concealed anxiety, he sought +the opinion of this person and that.</p> +<p>On the fourth day after his arrival, he went into +a tavern in King Street with Lieutenant Massay, of +the Thirty-fifth, Ensign Charleton, of the Fifth, and +another young officer, and, while they were drinking, +heard a loyalist tell what one Parker, leader +of the Lexington rebels, said to his men on Lexington +Common, on the morning of April 19th, when +the King’s troops came in sight.</p> +<p>“‘Stand your ground,’ says he. ‘Don’t fire till +you’re fired on, but if they mean to have a war, let +it begin here!’”</p> +<p>“And it began there!” said Harry.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73' name='page_73'></a>73</span></div> +<p>The English officers stared at him, and laughed.</p> +<p>“Ay, ’twas the Yankee idea of war,” said one +of them. “Run for a stone wall, and, when the +enemy’s back is turned, blaze away. I’d like to +see a million of the clodhoppers compelled to stand +up and face a line of grenadiers.”</p> +<p>“Ay, gimme ten companies of grenadiers,” cried +one, who had doubtless heard of General Gage’s +celebrated boast, “and I’ll go from one end of the +damned country to the other, and drive ’em to their +holes like foxes. Only ’tis better sport chasing +handsome foxes in England than ill-dressed poltroons +in Bumpkin-land.”</p> +<p>“They’re not all poltroons,” said Harry, repressing +his feelings the more easily through long +practice. “Some of them fought in the French +war. There’s Putnam, and Pomeroy, and Ward. +I heard Lieutenant-Colonel Abercrombie, of the +Twenty-second, say yesterday that Putnam—”</p> +<p>“Cowards every one of ’em,” broke in another. +“Cowards and louts. A lady told me t’other day +there ain’t in all America a man whose coat sets in +close at the back, except he’s of the loyal party. +Cowards and louts!”</p> +<p>“Look here, damn you!” cried Peyton. “I want +you to know I’m American born, and my people are +American, and I don’t know whether they are of the +loyal party or not!”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74' name='page_74'></a>74</span></div> +<p>“Oh, now, that’s the worst of you Americans,—always +will get personal! Of course, there are exceptions.”</p> +<p>“Then there are exceptions enough to make a +rule themselves,” said Harry. “I’m tired hearing +you call these people cowards before you’ve had a +chance to see what they are. And you needn’t wait +for that, for I can tell you now they’re not!”</p> +<p>“Well, well, perhaps not,—to you. Doubtless +they’re very dreadful,—to you. You don’t seem to +relish facing ’em, that’s a fact! You’ll be resigning +your commission one o’ these days, I dare say, if it +comes to blows with these terrible heroes!”</p> +<p>Harry saw everybody in the room looking at him +with a grin.</p> +<p>“By the Lord,” said he, “maybe I shall!” and +stalked hotly out of the place.</p> +<p>His wrath increased as he walked. He noticed +now, more than before, the confident, arrogant air +of the redcoats who promenaded the streets; how +they leered at the women, and made the citizens +who passed turn out of the way. Forthwith, he +went to his quarters, and wrote his resignation.</p> +<p>When the ink was dry he folded up the document +and put it in the pocket of his uniform coat. Then +that last tavern speech recurred to him. “If I resign +now,” he thought, “they’ll suppose it’s because +I really am afraid of fighting, not because the rebels +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75' name='page_75'></a>75</span> +are my countrymen.” So he lapsed into a state of +indecision,—a state resembling apathy, a half-dazed +condition, a semi-somnolent waiting for events. But +he kept his letter of resignation in his coat.</p> +<p>At dawn the next morning, Saturday, June 17th, +he was awakened by the booming of guns. He was +soon up and out. It was a beautiful day. People +were on the eminences and roofs, looking northward, +across the mouth of the Charles, towards Charlestown +and the hill beyond. On that hill were seen rough +earthworks, six feet high, which had not been there +the day before. The booming guns were those of +the British man-of-war <i>Lively</i>, firing from the river +at the new earthworks. Hence the earthworks +were the doing of the rebels, having been raised +during the night. Presently the <i>Lively</i> ceased its +fire, but soon there was more booming, this time not +only from the men-of-war, but also from the battery +on Copp’s Hill in Boston. After awhile Harry saw, +from where he stood with many others on Beacon +Hill, some of the rebels emerge from one part of the +earthworks, as if to go away. One of these was +knocked over by a cannon-ball. His comrades +dragged his body behind the earthen wall. By and +by a tall, strong-looking man appeared on top of the +parapet, and walked leisurely along, apparently giving +directions. Harry heard from a citizen, who had +a field-glass, the words, “Prescott, of Pepperell.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76' name='page_76'></a>76</span> +Other men were now visible on the parapet, superintending +the workers behind. And now the booming +of the guns was answered by disrespectful cheers +from those same unseen workers.</p> +<p>The morning grew hot. Harry heard that General +Gage had called a council of war at the Province +House; that Generals Howe, Clinton, Burgoyne,<a href='#Footnote_0003' class='fnanchor'>[3]</a>—these +three having arrived in Boston about three +weeks before Harry had,—Pigott, Grant, and the +rest were now there in consultation. At length +there was the half-expected tumult of drum and +bugle; and Harry was summoned to obey, with +his comrades, the order to parade. There was now +much noise of officers galloping about, dragoons +riding from their quarters, and rattling of gun-carriages. +The booming from the batteries and vessels +increased.</p> +<p>At half-past eleven Harry found himself—for he +was scarcely master of his acts that morning, his will +having taken refuge in a kind of dormancy—on +parade with two companies of his regiment, and he +noticed in a dim way that other companies near were +from other different regiments, all being supplied +with ammunition, blankets, and provisions. When +the sun was directly overhead and at its hottest, the +order to march was given, and soon he was bearing +the colors through the streets of Boston. The roar +of the cannon now became deafening. Harry knew +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77' name='page_77'></a>77</span> +not whether the rebels were returning it from their +hill works across the water or not. In time the +troops reached the wharf. Barges were in waiting, +and field-pieces were being moved into some of them. +He could see now that all the firing was from the +King’s vessels and batteries. Mechanically he followed +Lieutenant Dalrymple into a barge, which soon +filled up with troops. The other barges were speedily +brilliant with scarlet coats and glistening bayonets. +Not far away the river was covered with smoke, +through which flashed the fire of the belching artillery. +A blue flag was waved from General Howe’s +barge, and the fleet moved across the river towards +the hill where the rebels waited silently behind their +piles of earth.</p> +<p>At one o’clock, Harry followed Lieutenant Dalrymple +out of the barge to the northern shore of the +river, at a point northeast of Charlestown village and +east of the Yankees’ hill. There was no molestation +from the rebels. The firing from the vessels and batteries +protected the hillside and shore. The troops +were promptly formed in three lines. Harry’s place +was in the left of the front line. Then there was long +waiting. The barges went back to the Boston side. +Was General Howe, who had command of the movements, +sending for more troops? Many of the soldiers +ate of their stock of provisions. Harry, in a +kind of dream, looked westward up the hill towards +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78' name='page_78'></a>78</span> +the silent Yankee redoubt. It faced south, west, +and east. The line of its eastern side was continued +northward by a breastwork, and still beyond +this, down the northern hillside to another river, +ran a straggling rail fence, which was thatched +with fresh-cut hay. What were the men doing behind +those defences? What were they saying and +thinking?</p> +<p>The barges came back across the Charles from +Boston, with more troops, but these were disembarked +some distance southwest, nearer Charlestown. +General Howe now made a short speech to the troops +first landed. Then some flank guards were sent out +and some cannon wheeled forward. The companies of +the front line, with one of which was Harry, were +now ordered to form into files and move straight +ahead. They were to constitute the right wing of +the attacking force, and to be led by General Howe +himself. The four regiments composing the two rear +lines moved forward and leftward, to form, with the +troops newly landed, the left wing, which was to be +under General Pigott. The cannonading from the +river and from Boston continued.</p> +<p>The companies with which was Harry advanced +slowly, having to pass through high grass, over stone +fences, under a roasting sun. These companies were +moving towards the hay-thatched rail fence that straggled +down the hillside from the breastwork north of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79' name='page_79'></a>79</span> +the redoubt. Harry had a vague sense that the left +wing was ascending the southeastern side of the hill, +towards the redoubt, at the same time. His eye +caught the view at either side. Long files of scarlet +coats, steel bayonets, grenadiers’ tall caps. He looked +ahead. The stretch of green, grassy hillside, the +hay-covered rail fence looking like a hedge-row, the +rude breastwork, the blue sky. Suddenly there came +from the rail fence the belching of field-pieces. Two +grenadiers fell at the right of Harry. One moaned, +the other was silent. Harry, shocked into a sense +that war was begun between his King and his +people, instantly resolved to strike no blow that +day against his people. But this was no time for +leaving the ranks. Mechanically he marched on.</p> +<p>Heads appeared over the fence-rail, guns were +rested on it, and there came from it some irregular +flashes of musketry. Then Harry saw a man moving +his head and arms, as if shouting and gesticulating. +The musket flashes ceased. Harry did not know it +then, but the man was Putnam, and he was commanding +the Yankees to reserve their fire. The +British files were now ordered to deploy into line, +and fire. They did so as they advanced, firing +in machine-like unison, as if on parade, but aiming +high. Nearer and nearer, as Harry went forward, +rose the fence ahead and the breastwork on the hill +towards the left. Why did not the Yankees fire? +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80' name='page_80'></a>80</span> +Were they, indeed, paralyzed with fear at sight of the +lines of the King’s grenadiers?</p> +<p>All at once blazed forth the answer,—such a +volley of musketry, at close range, as British grenadiers +had not faced before. Down went officers and +men, in twos and threes and rows. Great gaps were +cut in the scarlet lines. The broken columns returned +the volley, but there came another. Harry +found himself in the midst of quivering, writhing, +yelling death. The British who were left,—startled, +amazed,—turned and fled. As mechanically +as he had come up, did Harry go back in the +common movement. General Howe showed astonishment. +The left wing, too, had been hurled back, +down the hill, by death-dealing volleys. The rabble +had held their rude works against the King’s choice +troops. Never had as many officers been killed or +wounded in a single charge. There had not been +such mowing down at Fontenoy or Montmorenci. +These unmilitary Yankees actually aimed when they +fired, each at some particular mark! Harry had +heard them cheering, and had thought they were +about to pursue the King’s troops; they had evidently +been ordered back.</p> +<p>The troops re-formed by the shore. Orders came +for another assault. Back again went Harry with +the right wing, bearing the colors as before. He +had secretly an exquisite heart-quickening elation +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81' name='page_81'></a>81</span> +at the success of his countrymen. If they should +win the day, and hold this hill, and drive the King’s +troops from Boston! He knew, at last, on which +side his heart was.</p> +<p>There was more play of artillery during this +second charge. Harry could see, too, that the village +of Charlestown was on fire, sending flames, +sparks, and smoke far towards the sky. It was +not as easy to go to the charge this time, there +were so many dead bodies in the way. But the +soldiers stepped over them, and maintained the +straightness of their lines. Again it seemed as if +the rebels would never fire. Again, when the +King’s troops were but a few rods from them, +came that flaming, low-aimed discharge. But the +troops marched on, in the face of it, till the very +officers who urged them forward fell before it; then +they wavered, turned, and ran. Harry’s joy, as he +went with them, increased, and his hopes mounted. +The left wing, too, had been thrown back a second +time.</p> +<p>There was a long wait, and the generals were seen +consulting. At last a third charge was ordered. +This time the greater part of the right wing was +led up the hill against the breastwork. With this +part was Harry. One more volley from the rebel defences +met the King’s troops. They wavered slightly, +then sprang forward, ready for another. But another +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82' name='page_82'></a>82</span> +came not. The rebels’ ammunition was giving out. +Harry’s heart fell. The British forced the breastwork, +carrying him along. He found himself at the +northern end of the redoubt. Some privates lifted +him to the parapet; he and a sergeant mounted at +the same time, and leaped together into the redoubt. +They saw Lieutenant Richardson, of the Royal Irish +Regiment, appear on the southern parapet, give a +shout of triumph, and fall dead from a Yankee +musket-ball. A whole rank that followed him +was served likewise, but others surged over the +parapet in their places. The rebels were defending +mainly the southern parapet. Many were retreating +by the rear passageway. Harry saw that +the King’s troops had won the redoubt. He took his +resolution. He threw the colors to the sergeant, +pulled off his coat, handed it to the same sergeant, +shouting into the man’s ear, “Give it to +the colonel, with the letter in the pocket;” picked +up a dead man’s musket, and ran to the aid of a +tall, powerful rebel who was parrying with a sword +the bayonets of three British privates. The tramp +of the retreating rebels, invading British, and hand-to-hand +fighters raised a blinding dust. Harry and +the tall American, gaining a breathing moment, +strode together with long steps, guarding their +flank and rear, to the passageway and out of it; +and then fought their course between two divisions +of British, which had turned the outer corners +of the redoubt. There was no firing here, so closely +mingled were British and rebels, the former too +exhausted to use forcibly their bayonets. So Harry +retreated, beside the tall man, with the rebels. A +British cheer behind him told the result of the day; +but Harry cared little. His mind was at ease; he +was on the right side at last.</p> +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_3' id='linki_3'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/i001.jpg' alt='' title='' width='323' height='500' /><br /> +<p class='caption'> +“‘GIVE IT TO THE COLONEL.’”<br /> +</p> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83' name='page_83'></a>83</span></div> +<p>Thus did young Mr. Peyton serve on both sides in +the same battle, being with each in the time of its +defeat, striking no blow against his country, yet +deserting not the King’s army till the moment of +its victory. His act was indeed desertion, desertion +to the enemy, and in time of action; for, though +his resignation was written, it was not only unaccepted, +but even undelivered. Thus did he render +himself liable, under the laws of war, to an ignominious +death should he ever fall into the hands of the +King’s troops.</p> +<p>During the flight to Cambridge, Harry was separated +from the tall man with whom he had come +from the redoubt, but soon saw him again, this time +directing the retreat, and learned that he was Colonel +Prescott, of Pepperell. Some of the rebels discussed +Harry freely in his own hearing, inferring from his +attire that he was of the British, and wondering why +he was not a prisoner. Harry asked to be taken to +the commander, and at Cambridge a coatless, bare-headed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84' name='page_84'></a>84</span> +captain led him to General Ward, of the Massachusetts +force. That veteran militiaman heard +his story, gave it credit, and, with no thought that +he might be a spy, invited him to remain at the +camp as a volunteer. Harry obtained a suit of blue +clothes, and quartered in one of the Harvard College +buildings. In a few days news came that the Congress +at Philadelphia had resolved to organize a +Continental army, of which the New England force +at Cambridge was to be the present nucleus; that a +general-in-chief would soon arrive to take command, +and that the general-in-chief appointed was a Virginian,—Colonel +Washington. Harry was jubilant.</p> +<p>Early in July the new general arrived, and Harry +paid his respects to him in the house of the college +president. General Washington advised the boy to +send another letter of resignation, then to go home +and join the troops that his own State would soon be +raising. On hearing Harry’s story, Washington had +given a momentary smile and a look at Major-General +Charles Lee, who had but recently published his +resignation of his half-pay as a retired British officer, +and who did not know yet whether that resignation +would be accepted or himself considered a deserter.</p> +<p>Peyton sent a new letter of resignation to Boston, +then procured a horse, and started to ride to Virginia. +Six days later he was in New York. In a +coffee-house where he was dining, he struck up an +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85' name='page_85'></a>85</span> +acquaintance with three young gentlemen of the +city, and told his name and story. One of the three—a +dark-eyed man—thereupon changed manner +and said he had no time for a rascally turncoat. +Harry, in hot resentment, replied that he would +teach a damned Tory some manners. So the four +went out of the town to Nicholas Bayard’s woods, +where, after a few passes with rapiers, the dark-eyed +gentleman was disarmed, and admitted, with no +good grace, that Harry was the better fencer. Harry +left New York that afternoon, having learned that +his antagonist was Mr. John Colden, son of the postmaster +of New York. His grandfather had been +lieutenant-governor.</p> +<p>Harry had for some time thought he would prefer +the cavalry, and he was determined, if possible, to +gratify that preference in entering the military service +of his own country. On arriving home he +found his people strongly sympathizing with the +revolt. But it was not until June, 1776, that Virginia +raised a troop of horse. On the 18th of that +month Harry was commissioned a cornet thereof. +After some service he found himself, March 31, +1777, cornet in the First Continental Dragoons. +The next fall, in a skirmish after the battle of +Brandywine, he was recognized by British officers as +the former ensign of the Sixty-third. In the following +spring, thanks to his activity during the British +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86' name='page_86'></a>86</span> +occupation of Philadelphia, he was made captain-lieutenant +in Harry Lee’s battalion of light dragoons. +After the battle of Monmouth he was promoted, +July 2, 1778, to the rank of captain. In the early +fall of that year he was busy in partisan warfare +between the lines of the two armies.</p> +<p>And thus it came that he was pursuing a troop +of Hessians down the New York and Albany post-road +on a certain cold November evening. Eager +on the chase, he was resolved to come up with them +if it could be, though he should have to ride within +gunshot of King’s Bridge itself. Suddenly his horse +gave out. He had the saddle taken from the dead +animal and given to one of his men to bear while he +himself mounted in front of a sergeant, for he was +loath to spare a man. Approaching Philipse Manor-house, +the party saw a boy leading horses into a +stable. Captain Peyton ordered some of his men to +patrol the road, and with the rest he went on to the +manor-house lawn.</p> +<p>Here he gave further directions, dismounted, +knocked at the door, and was admitted to the hall +where were Miss Elizabeth Philipse, Major Colden, +Miss Sally Williams, and old Matthias Valentine; +and, on Elizabeth’s demand, announced his name and +rank.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87' name='page_87'></a>87</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_V_THE_BLACK_HORSE' id='CHAPTER_V_THE_BLACK_HORSE'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER V.</h2> +<h3>THE BLACK HORSE.</h3> +</div> +<p class='dropcap'><span class='dcap'>Thanks</span> to the dimness, to his uniform, and to his +swift entrance, Peyton had not been recognized by +Major Colden until he had given his name. That +name had on the major the effect of an apparition, +and he stepped back into the dark corner of the hall, +drawing his cloak yet closer about him. This alarm +and movement were not noticed by the others, as +Peyton was the object of every gaze but his own, +which was fixed on Elizabeth.</p> +<p>“What do you want?” her voice rang out, while +she frowned from her place on the staircase, in cold +resentment. Her aunt, meanwhile, made the newcomer +a tremulous curtsey.</p> +<p>“I want to see the person in charge of this house, +and I want a horse,” replied Peyton, with more +promptitude than gentleness, yet with strict civility. +Elizabeth’s manner would have nettled even a colder +man.</p> +<p>Elizabeth did not keep him waiting for an answer.</p> +<p>“I am at present mistress of this house, and I am +neither selling horses nor giving them!”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88' name='page_88'></a>88</span></div> +<p>Peyton stared up at her in wonderment.</p> +<p>The candle-flame struggled against the wind, turning +this way and that, and made the vague shadows +of the people and of the slender balusters dance on +floor and wall. From without came the sound of +Peyton’s horses pawing, and of his men speaking +to one another in low tones.</p> +<p>“Your pardon, madam,” said Peyton, “but a horse +I must have. The service I am on permits no delay—”</p> +<p>“I doubt not!” broke in Elizabeth. “The Hessians +are probably chasing you.”</p> +<p>“On the contrary, I am chasing the Hessians. +At Boar Hill, yonder, my horse gave out. ’Tis important +my troops lose no time. Passing here, we +saw horses being led into your stable. I ordered +one of my men to take the best of your beasts, +and put my saddle on it,—and he is now doing +so.”</p> +<p>“How dare you, sir!” and Elizabeth came quickly +to the foot of the stairs, a picture of regal, flaming +wrath.</p> +<p>“Why, madam,” said Peyton, “’tis for the service +of the army. I require the horse, and I have come +here to pay for it—”</p> +<p>“It is not for sale—”</p> +<p>“That makes no difference. You know the custom +of war.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89' name='page_89'></a>89</span></div> +<p>“The custom of robbery!” cried Elizabeth.</p> +<p>Captain Peyton reddened.</p> +<p>“Robbery is not the custom of Harry Lee’s dragoons, +madam,” said he, “whatever be the practice +of the wretched ‘Skinners’ or of De Lancey’s Tory +Cowboys. I shall pay you as you choose,—with a +receipt to present at the quartermaster’s office, or +with Continental bills.”</p> +<p>“Continental rubbish!”</p> +<p>And, indeed, Elizabeth was not far from the +truth in the appellation so contemptuously hurled.</p> +<p>“You prefer that, do you?” said Peyton, unruffled; +whereupon he took from within his waistcoat +a long, thick pocketbook, and from that a number +of bills; which must have been for high amounts, +for he rapidly counted out only a score or two of +them, repocketing the rest, and at that time, thereabouts, +“a rat in shape of a horse,” as Washington +himself had complained a month before, was “not to +be bought for less than £200.”<a href='#Footnote_0004' class='fnanchor'>[4]</a> Peyton handed her +the bills he had counted out. “There’s a fair price, +then,” said he; “allowing for depreciation. The +current rate is five to one,—I allow six.”</p> +<p>Elizabeth looked disdainfully at the proffered bills, +and made no move to take them.</p> +<p>“Pah!” she cried. “I wouldn’t touch your +wretched Continental trash. I wouldn’t let one +of my black women put her hair up in it. Money, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90' name='page_90'></a>90</span> +do you call it? I wouldn’t give a shilling of the +King for a houseful of it.”</p> +<p>“I beg your pardon,” said Peyton, cheerfully. +“Since July in ’76 there has been no king in +America. I leave the bills, madam.” He laid them +on the newel post, beside the candlestick. “’Tis all +I can do, and more than many a man would do, seeing +that Colonel Philipse, the owner of this place, is +no friend to the American cause, and may fairly be +levied on as an enemy—”</p> +<p>“Colonel Philipse is my father!”</p> +<p>“Then I’m glad I’ve been punctilious in the matter,” +said Peyton, but without any increase of deference. +“Egad, I think I’ve been as scrupulous as the +commander-in-chief himself!”</p> +<p>“The commander-in-chief!” echoed Elizabeth. +“Sir Henry Clinton pays in gold.”</p> +<p>“I meant <i>our</i> commander-in-chief,” with a suavity +most irritating.</p> +<p>“Mr. Washington!” said Elizabeth, scornfully, +with a slight emphasis on the “Mr.”</p> +<p>“His Excellency, General Washington.” Peyton +spoke as one would in gently correcting a child who +was impolite. Then he added, “I think the horse +is now ready; so I bid you good evening!”</p> +<p>And he strode towards the door.</p> +<p>Elizabeth was now fully awake to the certainty +that one of the horses would indeed be taken. At +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91' name='page_91'></a>91</span> +Peyton’s movement she ran to the door, reaching it +before he did, and looked out. What she saw, transformed +her into a very fury.</p> +<p>“Oh, this outrage!” she cried, facing about and +addressing those in the hall. “It is my Cato they +are leading out! My Cato! Under my very eyes! +I forbid it! He shall not go! Where are Cuff and +the servants? Why don’t they prevent? And you, +Jack?”</p> +<p>She turned to Colden for the first time since Peyton’s +arrival.</p> +<p>“My troop would make short work of any who +interfered, madam,” said Peyton, warningly, still +looking at Elizabeth only.</p> +<p>“Oh, that I should have to endure this!” she +said. “Oh, if I had but a company of soldiers at +my back, you dog of a rebel!”</p> +<p>And she paced the hall in a great passion. Passing +the newel post, she noticed the Continental bills. +She took these up, violently tore them across, and +threw the pieces about the hall, as one tosses corn +about a chicken-yard.</p> +<p>Major Colden had been having a most uncomfortable +five minutes. As a Tory officer, he was in close +peril of being made prisoner by this Continental captain +and the latter’s troop outside, and this peril was +none the less since he had so adversely criticised +Peyton in the talk which had led to the duel in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92' name='page_92'></a>92</span> +Bayard’s woods. He had not put himself on +friendly terms with Peyton after that affair. There +was still no reason for any other feeling towards him, +on Peyton’s part, than resentment. Now Jack Colden +had no relish for imprisonment at the hands of +the despised rebels. Moreover, he had no wish that +Elizabeth should learn of his former defeat by Peyton. +He had kept the meeting in Bayard’s woods a +secret, thanks to Peyton’s having quitted New York +immediately after it, and to the relation of dependence +in which the two only witnesses stood to him. +Thus it was that he had remained well out of view +during Elizabeth’s sharp interview with Peyton, being +unwilling alike to be known as a Tory officer, and to +be recognized by Peyton. His civilian’s cloak hid +his uniform and weapons; the dimness of the candle-light +screened his face.</p> +<p>But matters had reached a point where he could +not, without appearing a coward, refrain longer from +taking a hand. He stepped forward from the dark +remoteness.</p> +<p>“Sir,” said he to Peyton, politely, “I know the +custom of war. But since a horse must be taken, +you will find one of mine in the stable. Will you +not take it instead of this lady’s?”</p> +<p>Peyton had been scrutinizing Colden’s features.</p> +<p>“Mr. Colden, if I remember,” he said, when the +major had finished.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93' name='page_93'></a>93</span></div> +<p>“You remember right,” said Colden, with a bow, +concealing behind a not too well assumed quietude +what inward tremors the situation caused him.</p> +<p>“And you are doubtless now an officer in some +Tory corps?” said Peyton, quickly.</p> +<p>“No, sir, I am neutral,” replied Colden, rather +huskily, with an instant’s glance of warning at Elizabeth.</p> +<p>“Gad!” said Peyton, with a smile, still closely +surveying the major. “From your sentiments the +time I met you in New York in ’75, I should have +thought you’d take up arms for the King.”</p> +<p>“That was before the Declaration of Independence,” +said Colden, in a tone scarcely more than +audible. “I have modified my opinions.”</p> +<p>“They were strong enough then,” Peyton went +on. “You remember how you upheld them with a +rapier in Bayard’s woods?”</p> +<p>“I remember,” said Colden, faintly, first reddening, +then taking on a pale and sickly look, as if a prey to +hidden chagrin and rage.</p> +<p>It seemed as if his tormentor intended to torture +him interminably. Peyton, who knew that one of +his men would come for him as soon as the horse +should be saddled and bridled, remained facing the +unhappy major, wearing that frank half-smile which, +from the triumphant to the crestfallen, seems so +insolent and is so maddening.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94' name='page_94'></a>94</span></div> +<p>“I’ve often thought,” said Peyton, “I deserved +small credit for getting the better of you that day. +I had taken lessons from London fencing-masters.” +(Consider that the woman whom Colden loved was +looking on, and that this was all news to her, and +imagine how he raged beneath the outer calmness he +had, for safety’s sake, to wear.) “’Twas no hard +thing to disarm you, and I’m not sorry you’re neutral +now. For if you wore British or Tory uniform, +’twould be my duty to put you again at disadvantage, +by taking you prisoner.”</p> +<p>The face of one of Peyton’s men now appeared in +the doorway. Peyton nodded to him, then continued +to address the major.</p> +<p>“As for your request, my traps are now on the +other horse, and there is not time to change. I +must ride at once.”</p> +<p>He stepped quickly to the door, and on the +threshold turned to bow.</p> +<p>Then cried Elizabeth:</p> +<p>“May you ride to your destruction, for your +impudence, you bandit!”</p> +<p>“Thank you, madam! I shall ride where I +must! Farewell! My horse is waiting.”</p> +<p>And in an instant he was gone, having closed the +door after him with a bang.</p> +<p>“<i>His</i> horse! The highwayman!” quoth Elizabeth.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95' name='page_95'></a>95</span></div> +<p>“Give the gentleman his due,” said Miss Sally, in +a way both mollified and mollifying. “He paid for +it with those.” She indicated the strewn fragments +of the Continental bills on the floor.</p> +<p>“Forward! Get up!”</p> +<p>It was the voice of Captain Peyton outside. The +horses were heard riding away from the lawn.</p> +<p>Elizabeth opened the door and looked out. Her +aunt accompanied her. Old Valentine gazed with a +sagely deploring expression at the torn-up bills on +the floor. Colden stood where he had been, lest by +some chance the enemy might return and discover +his relief from straint.</p> +<p>“Oh,” cried Elizabeth, at the door, as the light +horsemen filed out the gate and up the branch road +towards the highway, “to see the miserable rebel +mounted on my Cato!”</p> +<p>“He looks well on him,” said her aunt.</p> +<p>It was a brief flow of light from the fresh-risen +moon, between wind-driven clouds, that enabled Miss +Sally to make this observation.</p> +<p>“Looks well! The tatterdemalion!” And Elizabeth +came from the door, as if loathing further sight +of him.</p> +<p>But Miss Sally continued to look after the riders, +as their dark forms were borne rapidly towards +the post-road. “Nay, I think he is quite handsome.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96' name='page_96'></a>96</span></div> +<p>“Pah! You think every man is handsome!” said +the niece, curtly.</p> +<p>Miss Sally turned from the door, quite shocked.</p> +<p>“Why, Elizabeth, you know I’m the least susceptible +of women!”</p> +<p>Old Mr. Valentine nodded sadly, as much as to +say, “I know that, all too well!”</p> +<p>As the racing clouds now rushed over the moon, +and the horsemen’s figures, having become more and +more blurred, were lost in the blackness, Miss Sally +closed and bolted the door. The horses were faintly +heard coming to a halt, at about the junction of the +branch road with the highway, then moving on again +rapidly, not further towards the south, as might have +been expected, but back northward, and finally towards +the east. Meanwhile Elizabeth stood in the hall, +her rage none the less that its object was no longer +present to have it wreaked on him. Such hate, such +passionate craving for revenge, had never theretofore +been awakened in her. And when she realized the +unlikelihood of any opportunity for satisfaction, she +was exasperated to the limit of self-control.</p> +<p>“If you had only had some troops here!” she +said to Colden.</p> +<p>“I know it! May the rascal perish for finding me +at such a disadvantage! ’Twas my choice between +denying my colors and becoming his prisoner.”</p> +<p>This brought back to Elizabeth’s mind the talk +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97' name='page_97'></a>97</span> +between Colden and Peyton, which her feelings had +for the time driven from her thoughts. But now a +natural curiosity asserted itself.</p> +<p>“So you knew the fellow before?”</p> +<p>“I met him in ’75,” said Colden, blurting awkwardly +into the explanation that he knew had to +be made, though little was his stomach for it. “He +was passing through New York from Boston to +his home in Virginia, after he had deserted from +the King’s army—”</p> +<p>“Deserted?” Elizabeth opened wide her eyes.</p> +<p>Colden briefly outlined, as far as was desirable, +what he knew of Peyton’s story.</p> +<p>It was Miss Sally who then said:</p> +<p>“And he disarmed you in a duel?”</p> +<p>“He had practised under London fencing-masters, +as he but now admitted,” replied Colden, grumpily. +“He made no secret of his desertion; and in a coffee-house +discussion I said it was a dastardly act. +So we—fought. Since then I’ve met officers of +the regiment he left. Such a thing was never +known before,—the desertion of an officer of the +Sixty-third,—and General Grant, its colonel, has +the word of Sir Henry Clinton that this fellow shall +hang if they ever catch him.”</p> +<p>“Then I hope my horse will carry him into their +hands!” said Elizabeth, heartily. “My poor Cato! +I shall never see him again!”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98' name='page_98'></a>98</span></div> +<p>“We may get him back some day,” said Colden, +for want of aught better to say.</p> +<p>“If you can do that, John Colden, and have this +rebel hanged who dared treat me so—” Elizabeth +paused, and her look dwelt on the major’s face.</p> +<p>“Well?”</p> +<p>“Then I think I shall almost be really in love +with you!”</p> +<p>But Colden sighed. “A rare promise from one’s +betrothed!”</p> +<p>“Heavens, Jack!” said Elizabeth, now diverted +from the thought of her horse. “Don’t I do the +best I can to love you? I’m sure I come as near +loving you as loving anybody. What more can I do +than that, and promising my hand? Don’t look dismal, +major, I pray,—and now make haste back to +New York.”</p> +<p>“How can I go and leave you exposed to the +chance of another visit from some troop of rebels?” +pleaded Colden, in a kind of peevish despair, taking +up his hat from the settle.</p> +<p>“Oh, that fellow showed no disposition to injure +<i>me</i>!” she answered, reassuringly. “Trust me to +take care of myself.”</p> +<p>“But promise that if there’s any sign of danger, +you will fly to New York.”</p> +<p>“That will depend on the circumstances. I may +be safer in this house than on the road.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99' name='page_99'></a>99</span></div> +<p>“Then, at least, you will have guns fired, and also +send a man to one of our outposts for help?” There +was no pretence in the young man’s solicitude. +Such a bride as Elizabeth Philipse was not to be +found every day. The thought of losing her was +poignant misery to him.</p> +<p>“To which one?” she asked. “The Hessian +camp by Tippett’s Brook, or the Highlanders’, at +Valentine’s Hill?”</p> +<p>“No,” said Colden, meditating. “Those may be +withdrawn if the weather is bad. Send to the barrier +at King’s Bridge,—but if your man meets one +of our patrols or pickets on the way, so much the +better. Good-by! I shall see your father to-night, +and then rejoin my regiment on Staten Island.”</p> +<p>He took her hand, bent over it, and kissed it.</p> +<p>“Be careful you don’t fall in with those rebel +dragoons,” said Elizabeth, lightly, as his lips dwelt +on her fingers.</p> +<p>“No danger of that,” put in old Valentine, from +the settle, for the moment ceasing to chew an imaginary +cud. “They took the road to Mile Square.” +The octogenarian’s hearing was better than his sight.</p> +<p>“I shall notify our officers below that this rebel +force is out,” said Colden, “and our dragoons may +cut it off somewhere. Farewell, then! I shall return +for you in a week.”</p> +<p>“In a week,” repeated Elizabeth, indifferently.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100' name='page_100'></a>100</span></div> +<p>He kissed her hand again, bowed to Miss Sally, +and hastened from the hall, closing the door behind +him. Once outside, he made his way to the stables, +where he knew that Cuff, not having returned to +Elizabeth, must still be.</p> +<p>“It’s little reward you give that gentleman’s +devotion, Elizabeth,” said Miss Sally, when he had +gone.</p> +<p>“Why, am I not going to give him myself? Come, +aunty, don’t preach on that old topic. My parents +wish me to be married to Jack Colden, and I +have consented, being an obedient child,—in some +things.”</p> +<p>“More obedient to your own whims than to anything +else,” was Miss Sally’s comment.</p> +<p>The sound of Colden’s horse departing brought +to the amiable aunt the thought of a previous departure.</p> +<p>“That fine young rebel captain!” said she. “If +our troops take him they’ll hang him! Gracious! +As if there were so many handsome young men that +any could be spared! Why can’t they hang the old +and ugly ones instead?”</p> +<p>Mr. Valentine suspended his chewing long enough +to bestow on Miss Sally a look of vague suspicion.</p> +<p>The door, which had not been locked or bolted +after Colden’s going, was suddenly flung open to +admit Cuff. The negro boy had been thrown by +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101' name='page_101'></a>101</span> +the dragoons’ visit into an almost comatose condition +of fright, from which the orders of Colden had +but now sufficiently restored him to enable his venturing +out of the stable. He now stood trembling +in fear of Elizabeth’s reproof, stammering out a wild +protestation of his inability to save the horse by +force, and of his inefficacious attempts to save him +by prayer.</p> +<p>Elizabeth cut him short with the remark, intended +rather for her own satisfaction than for aught else, +that one thing was to be hoped,—the chance of +war might pay back the impertinent rebel who had +stolen the horse. She then gave orders that the +hall and the east parlor be lighted up.</p> +<p>“For the proper reception,” she added to her +aunt, “of the next handsome rebel captain who may +condescend to honor us with a visit. Mr. Valentine, +wait in the parlor till supper is ready. I’ll have a +fire made there. Come, aunt Sally, we’ll discuss +over a cup of tea the charms of your pretty rebel +captain and his agreeable way of relieving ladies of +their favorite horses. I’ll warrant he’ll look handsomer +than ever, on the gallows, when our soldiers +catch him.”</p> +<p>And she went blithely up the stairs, which at the +first landing turned rightward to a second landing, +and thence rightward again to the upper hall. The +darkness was interrupted by a narrow stream of light +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102' name='page_102'></a>102</span> +from a slightly open doorway in the north side of +this upper hall. This was the doorway to her own +room, and when she crossed the threshold she saw +a bright blaze in the fireplace, lights in a candelabrum, +cups and saucers on a table, and Molly bringing +in a steaming teapot from the next room, which, +being northward, was nearer the kitchen stairs. +This next room, too, was lighted up. Solid wooden +shutters, inside the windows of both chambers, kept +the light from being seen without, and the wind from +being felt within.</p> +<p>As Elizabeth was looking around her room, smiling +affectionately on its many well-remembered and +long-neglected objects, there was a sudden distant +detonation. Molly looked up inquiringly, but Elizabeth +directed her to place the tea things, find fresh +candles, if any were left in the house, and help Cuff +put them on the chandelier in the lower hall, and +then get supper. As Molly left the room, Miss +Sally entered it.</p> +<p>“Elizabeth! Oh, child! There’s firing beyond +Locust Hill. It’s on the Mile Square road, Mr. +Valentine says,—cavalry pistols and rangers’ muskets.”</p> +<p>“Mr. Valentine has a fine ear.”</p> +<p>“He says the rebel light horse must have met the +Hessians! There ’tis again!”</p> +<p>“Sit down, aunt, and have a dish of tea. Ah-h! +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103' name='page_103'></a>103</span> +This is comfortable! Delicious! Let them kill one +another as they please, beyond Locust Hill; let the +wind race up the Hudson and the Albany road as +it likes,—we’re snugly housed!”</p> +<p>Williams, who had, from the upper hall, safely +overheard Captain Peyton’s intrusion, and had not +seen occasion for his own interference, now came +in from the next room, which he had been making +ready for Miss Sally, and received Elizabeth’s orders +concerning the east parlor.</p> +<p>Meanwhile, what of Harry Peyton and his troop?</p> +<p>Riding up the little tree-lined road towards the +highway, they saw dark forms of other riders +standing at the point of junction. These were the +men whom Peyton had directed to patrol the road. +They now told him that, by the account of a belated +farmer whom they had halted, the Hessians had +turned from the highway into the Mile Square road. +Peyton immediately led his men to that road. Thus, +as old Valentine said, that part of the highway between +the manor-house and King’s Bridge remained +clear of these rebel dragoons, and Major Colden +stood in no danger of meeting them on his return to +New York. The major, nevertheless, did not spare +his horse as he pursued his lonely way through the +windy darkness. When he arrived at King’s Bridge +he was glad to give his horse another rest, and to +accept an invitation to a bottle and a game in the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104' name='page_104'></a>104</span> +tavern where the British commanding officer was +quartered.</p> +<p>The Hessians had not gone far on the Mile Square +road, when their leader called a halt and consulted +with his subordinate officer. They were now near +Mile Square, where the Tory captain, James De +Lancey, kept a recruiting station all the year round, +and Valentine’s Hill, where there was a regiment of +Highlanders. Their own security was thus assured, +but they might do more than come off in safety,—they +might strike a parting blow at their pursuers. +A plan was quickly formed. A messenger was +despatched to Mile Square to request a small reinforcement. +The troop then turned back towards the highway, +having planned for either one of two possibilities. +The first was that the rebel dragoons, not thinking +the Hessians had turned into the Mile Square road, +would ride on down the highway. In that case, the +Hessians would follow them, having become in their +turn the pursuers, and would fall upon their rear. +The noise of firearms would alarm the Hessian camp +by Tippett’s Brook, below, and the rebels would thus +be caught between two forces. The second possibility +was that the Americans would follow into the +Mile Square road. When the sound of their horses +soon told that this was the reality, the Hessians +promptly prepared to meet it.</p> +<p>The force divided into two parts. The foremost +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105' name='page_105'></a>105</span> +blocked the road, near a turning, so as to remain +unseen by the approaching rebels until almost the +moment of collision. The second force stayed some +rods behind the first, forming in two lines, one along +each side of the road. As to each force, some were +armed with sabres and cavalry pistols, but most, +being mounted yagers of Van Wrumb’s battalion, +with rifles.</p> +<p>As for the little detachment of Lee’s Light Horse +that was now galloping along the Mile Square road, +under Harry Peyton’s command, the arms were +mainly broadswords and pistols, but some of the men +had rifles or light muskets.</p> +<p>The troop went forward at a gallop against the +wind, there being just sufficient light for keen eyes +to make out the road ahead. Harry Peyton was +inwardly deploring the loss of time at Philipse Manor-house, +and fearing that the prey would reach its +covert, when suddenly the moon appeared in a cloud-rift, +the troops passed a turn in the road, and there +stood a line of Hessians barring the way.</p> +<p>Ere Peyton could give an order, came one loud, +flaming, whistling discharge from that living barrier. +Harry’s horse—Elizabeth Philipse’s Cato—reared, +as did others of his troop. Some of the men came +to a quick stop, others were borne forward by the +impetus of their former speed, but soon reined in for +orders. No man fell, though one groaned, and two +cursed.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106' name='page_106'></a>106</span></div> +<p>Harry got his horse under control, drew his broadsword +with his right hand, his pistol with his left,—which +held also the rein,—and ordered his men to +charge, to fire at the moment of contact, then to cut, +slash, and club. So the little troop, the well and the +wounded alike, dashed forward.</p> +<p>But the line of Hessians, as soon as they had fired, +turned and fled, passing between the two lines of the +second force, and stopping at some further distance +to reform and reload. The second force, being thus +cleared by the first, wheeled quickly into the road, +and formed a second barrier against Peyton’s oncoming +troop.</p> +<p>Peyton’s men, intoxicated by the powder-smell that +filled their nostrils as they passed through the smoke +of the Hessians’ first volley, bore down on this second +barrier with furious force. They were the best +riders in the world, and many a one of them held his +broadsword aloft in one hand, his pistol raised in +the other, the rein loose on his horse’s neck; while +those with long-barrelled weapons aimed them on the +gallop.</p> +<p>The Hessians and Peyton’s foremost men fired at +the same moment. The Hessians had not time to +turn and flee, for the Americans, unchecked by this +second greeting of fire, came on at headlong speed. +“At ’em, boys!” yelled Peyton, discharging his pistol +at a tall yager, who fell sidewise from his horse +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107' name='page_107'></a>107</span> +with a fierce German oath. The light horse men +dashed between the Hessians’ steeds, and there was +hewing and hacking.</p> +<p>A Hessian officer struck with a sabre at Peyton’s +left arm, but only knocked the pistol from his hand. +Peyton then found himself threatened on the right +by a trooper, and slashed at him with broadsword. +The blow went home, but the sword’s end became +entangled somehow with the breast bones of the victim. +A yager, thinking to deprive Peyton of the +sword, brought down a musket-butt heavily on it. +But Peyton’s grip was firm, and the sword snapped +in two, the hilt in his hand, the point in its human +sheath. At that instant Peyton felt a keen smart in +his left leg. It came from a second sabre blow +aimed by the Hessian officer, who might have followed +it with a third, but that he was now attacked +elsewhere. Peyton had no sooner clapped his hand +to his wounded leg than he was stunned by a blow +from the rifle-butt of the yager who had previously +struck the sword. Harry fell forward on the horse’s +neck, which he grasped madly with both arms, still +holding the broken sword in his right hand; and +lapsed from a full sense of the tumult, the plunging +and shrieking horses, the yelling and cursing men, +the whirr and clash of swords, and the thuds of +rifle-blows, into blind, red, aching, smarting half-consciousness.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108' name='page_108'></a>108</span></div> +<p>When he was again aware of things, he was still +clasping the horse’s neck, and was being borne alone +he knew not whither. His head ached, and his left +leg was at every movement a seat of the sharpest +pain. He was dizzy, faint, bleeding,—and too +weak to raise himself from his position. He could +not hear any noise of fighting, but that might have +been drowned by the singing in his ears. He tried +to sit up and look around, but the effort so increased +his pain and so drew on his nigh-fled strength, that +he fell forward on the horse’s neck, exhausted and +half-insensible. The horse, which had merely turned +and run from the conflict at the moment of Peyton’s +loss of sense, galloped on.</p> +<p>Clouds had darkened the moon in time to prevent +their captain’s unintentional defection from being +seen by his troops. They had, therefore, fought +on against such antagonists as, in the darkness, they +could keep located. The moon reappeared, and +showed many of the Hessians making for the wooded +hill near by, and some fleeing to the force that had +re-formed further on the road. Some of the Americans +charged this force, which thereupon fired a volley +and fled, having the more time therefor inasmuch +as the charging dragoons did not this time possess +their former speed and impetus. The dragoons, in +disorder and without a leader, came to a halt. Becoming +aware of Peyton’s absence, they sought in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109' name='page_109'></a>109</span> +vain the scene of recent conflict. It was soon inferred +that he had been wounded, and, therefore of +no further use in the combat, had retreated to a safe +resting-place. It was decided useless to follow the +enemy further towards the near British posts, whence +the Hessians might be reinforced,—as they would +have been, had they held the ground longer. So, +having had much the better of the fight, the surviving +dragoons galloped back towards the post-road, +expecting to come upon their captain, wounded, by +the wayside, at any moment. He might, indeed, to +make sure of safe refuge, ride as far towards the +American lines as the wound he must have received +would allow him to do.</p> +<p>Such were the doings, on the windy night, beyond +Locust Hill, while Elizabeth Philipse and her aunt +sat drinking tea by candle-light before a sputtering +wood fire. Elizabeth having set the example, the +others in the house went about their business, despite +the firing so plainly heard. Black Sam had, +after Elizabeth’s arrival, returned from the orchard, +whither he had gone late in the day, lest he might +attract the attention of some dodging whale-boat or +skulking Whig to the few remaining apples. He +had been let in at a rear door by Williams, who had +repressed him during the visit of the American +dragoons,—for Sam was a sturdy, bold fellow, of +different kidney from the dapper, citified Cuff. At +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110' name='page_110'></a>110</span> +Williams’s order he had made a roaring fire in the +east parlor, to the great comfort of old Mr. Valentine, +and was now putting the dining-room into a +similar state of warmth and light. Williams was +setting out provisions for Molly presently to cook; +and the maid herself was, with Cuff’s assistance, replenishing +the hall chandelier with fresh candles.</p> +<p>The sound of firing had put Elizabeth’s black boy +into a tremulous and white-eyed state. When Molly, +who stood on the settle while he handed the candles +up to her, assured him that the firing was t’other +side of Locust Hill, that the bullets would not penetrate +the mahogany door, and that anyhow only one +bullet in a hundred ever hit any one, Cuff affrightedly +observed ’twas just that one bullet he was afraid of; +and when, at the third discharge, Molly dropped a +candle on his woolly head, he fell prostrate, howling +that he was shot. Molly convinced him after awhile +that he was alive, but he averred he had actually had +a glimpse of the harps and the golden streets, though +the prospect of soon possessing them had rather +appalled him, as indeed it does many good people +who are so sure of heaven and so fond of it. He +had been reassured but a short time, when he had +new cause for terror. Again a horse was heard +galloping up to the house. It stopped before the +door and gave a loud whinny.</p> +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_4' id='linki_4'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111' name='page_111'></a>111</span> +<img src='images/i002.jpg' alt='' title='' width='324' height='500' /><br /> +<p class='caption'> +“LEANED FORWARD ON THE HORSE’S NECK.”<br /> +</p> +</div> +<p>Molly exchanged with Cuff a look of mingled wonder, +delight, and doubt; then ran and opened the +front door.</p> +<p>“Yes!” she cried. “It is! It’s Miss Elizabeth’s +horse! It’s Cato!”</p> +<p>Cuff ran to the threshold in great joy, but suddenly +stopped short.</p> +<p>“Dey’s a soldier on hees back,” he whispered.</p> +<p>So Molly had noticed,—but a soldier who made +no demonstration, a soldier who leaned forward on +the horse’s neck and clutched its mane, holding at the +same time in one hand a broken sword, and who +tried to sit up, but only emitted a groan of pain.</p> +<p>“He’s wounded, that’s it,” said Molly. “Go and +help the poor soldier in, Cuff. Don’t you see he’s +injured? He can’t hurt you.”</p> +<p>Molly enforced her commands with such physical +persuasions that Cuff, ere he well knew what he was +about, was helping Peyton from the horse. The +captain, revived by a supreme effort, leaned on the +boy’s shoulder and came limping and lurching across +the porch into the hall. Molly then went to his +assistance, and with this additional aid he reached +the settle, on which he dropped, weak, pale, and +panting. He took a sitting posture, gasped his +thanks to Molly, and, noticing the blood from his leg +wound, called damnation on the Hessian officer’s +sword. Presently he asked for a drink of water.</p> +<p>At Molly’s bidding the negro boy hastened for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112' name='page_112'></a>112</span> +water, and also to inform his mistress of the arrival. +Elizabeth, hearing the news, rose with an exclamation; +but, taking thought, sat down again, and, with +a pretence of composure, finished her cup of tea. +Cuff returned with a glass of water to the hall, +where Molly was listening to Peyton’s objurgations +on his condition. The captain took the glass eagerly, +and was about to drink, when a footstep was +heard on the stairs. He turned his head and saw +Elizabeth.</p> +<p>“Here’s my respects, madam,” quoth he, and +drank off the water.</p> +<p>Elizabeth came down-stairs and took a position +where she could look Peyton well over. He watched +her with some wonderment. When she was quite +ready she spoke:</p> +<p>“So, it is, indeed, the man who stole my horse.”</p> +<p>“Pardon. I think your horse has stolen <i>me</i>! It +made me an intruder here quite against my will, I +assure you.”</p> +<p>“You will doubtless not honor us by remaining?” +There was more seriousness of curiosity in this question +than Elizabeth betrayed or Peyton perceived.</p> +<p>“What can I do? I can neither ride nor walk.”</p> +<p>“But your men will probably come for you?”</p> +<p>“I don’t think any saw the horse bear me from +the fight. The field was in smoke and darkness. +My troops must have pursued the enemy. They’ll +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113' name='page_113'></a>113</span> +think me killed or made prisoner. If they return +this way, however, I can have them stop and take +me along.”</p> +<p>“Then you expect that, in repayment of your +treatment of me awhile ago—” Elizabeth paused.</p> +<p>“Madam, you should allow for the exigencies of +war! Yet, if you wish to turn me out—”</p> +<p>Elizabeth interrupted him:</p> +<p>“So it is true that, if you fell into the hands of +the British, they would hang you?”</p> +<p>“Doubtless! But you shouldn’t blame <i>me</i> for +what <i>they’d</i> do. And how did you know?”</p> +<p>“Help this gentleman into the east parlor,” said +Elizabeth, abruptly, to Cuff.</p> +<p>“Ah!” cried Peyton, his face lighting up with +quick gratitude. “Madam, you then make me your +guest?” He thrust forward his head, forgetful of +his condition.</p> +<p>“My guest?” rang out Elizabeth’s voice in answer. +“You insolent rebel, I intend to hand you +over to the British!”</p> +<p>There was a brief silence. Each gazed at the other.</p> +<p>“You will not—do that?” said Peyton, in a voice +little above a whisper.</p> +<p>“Wait and see!” And she stood regarding him +with elation.</p> +<p>He stared at her in blank consternation.</p> +<p>Again, the sound of the trample of many horses.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114' name='page_114'></a>114</span></div> +<p>“Ah!” cried Peyton, joyfully. “My men returning!”</p> +<p>He rose to go to the door, but his wounded leg +gave way, and he staggered to the staircase, and +leaned against the balustrade.</p> +<p>Elizabeth’s look of gratification faded. She ran +to the door, fastened it with bolt and key, and stood +with her back against it.</p> +<p>The sound, first distant as if in the Mile Square +road, was now manifestly in the highway. Would it +come southward, towards the house, or go northward, +decreasing?</p> +<p>“They are my men!” cried Peyton to Cuff. +“Call them! They’ll pass without knowing I am +here. Call them, I say! Quick! They’ll be out of +hearing.”</p> +<p>“Silence!” said Elizabeth to Cuff, in a low tone, +and stood listening.</p> +<p>Peyton made another attempt to move, but realized +his inability. ’Twas all he could do to support +himself against the balustrade.</p> +<p>“My God, they’ve gone by!” he cried. “They’ll +return to our lines, leaving me behind.” And he +shouted, “Carrington!”</p> +<p>The voice rang for a moment in the remoteness of +the hall above. Then complete silence within. All +in the hall remained motionless, listening. The +sound of the horses came fainter and fainter.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115' name='page_115'></a>115</span></div> +<p>“Carrington! Help! I’m in the manor-house,—a +prisoner!”</p> +<p>A look of despair came over his face. On Elizabeth’s +the suspense gave way to a smile of triumph.</p> +<p>The sound of the horses died away.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116' name='page_116'></a>116</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_VI_THE_ONE_CHANCE' id='CHAPTER_VI_THE_ONE_CHANCE'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VI.</h2> +<h3>THE ONE CHANCE.</h3> +</div> +<p class='dropcap'><span class='dcap'>Peyton</span> staggered back to the settle and sank +down on it, exhausted. Elizabeth, hearing black +Sam moving about in the dining-room, which was +directly north of the hall, bade Molly summon him. +When he appeared, she ordered him and Cuff to +carry the settle, with the wounded man on it, into +the east parlor, and to place the man on the sofa +there. She then told Molly to hasten the supper, +and to send Williams to her up-stairs, and thereupon +rejoined her excited aunt above. When Williams +attended her, she gave him commands regarding the +prisoner.</p> +<p>Peyton was thus carried through the deep doorway +in the south side of the hall into the east parlor, +which was now exceedingly habitable with fire +roaring and candles lighted. In the east and south +sides of this richly ornamented room were deeply +embrasured windows, with low seats. In the west +side was a mahogany door opening from the old or +south hall. In the north side, which was adorned +with wooden pillars and other carved woodwork, was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117' name='page_117'></a>117</span> +the door through which Peyton had been carried; +west of that, the decorated chimney-breast with its +English mantel and fireplace, and further west a +pair of doors opening from a closet, whence a winding +staircase descended cellarward. The ceiling was +rich with fanciful arabesque woodwork. Set in the +chimney-breast, over the mantel, was an oblong mirror. +The wainscoting, pillars, and other woodwork +were of a creamy white. But Peyton had no eye for +details at the moment. He noticed only that his +entrance disturbed the slumbers of the old gentleman—Matthias +Valentine—who had been sleeping +in a great armchair by the fire, and who now blinked +in wonderment.</p> +<p>The negroes put down the settle and lifted Peyton +to a sofa that stood against the western side of the +room, between a spinet and the northern wall. At +Peyton’s pantomimic request they then moved the sofa +to a place near the fire, and then, taking the settle +along, marched out of the room, back to the hall, +closing the door as they went.</p> +<p>Peyton, too pain-racked and exhausted to speak, +lay back on the sofa, with closed eyes. Old Valentine +stared at him a few moments; then, curious both +as to this unexpected advent and as to the proximity +of supper, rose and hobbled from the parlor and +across the hall to the dining-room. For some time +Peyton was left alone. He opened his eyes, studied +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118' name='page_118'></a>118</span> +the flying figures on the ceiling, the portraits on the +walls, the carpet,—Philipse Manor-house, like the +best English houses of the time, had carpet on its +floors,—the carving of the mantel, the clock and +candelabrum thereupon, the crossed rapiers thereabove, +the curves of the imported furniture. His +twinges and aches were so many and so diverse that +he made no attempt to locate them separately. He +could feel that the left leg of his breeches was +soaked with blood.</p> +<p>Finally the door opened, and in came Williams +and Cuff, the former with shears and bands of linen, +the latter with a basin of water. Williams, whom +Peyton had not before seen, scrutinized him critically, +and forthwith proceeded to expose, examine, +wash, and bind up the wounded leg, while Cuff stood +by and played the rôle of surgeon’s assistant. Peyton +speedily perceived on the steward’s part a reliable +acquaintance with the art of dressing cuts, and therefore +submitted without a word to his operations. +Williams was equally silent, breaking his reticence +only now and then to utter some monosyllabic command +to Cuff.</p> +<p>When the wound was dressed, Williams put the +patient’s disturbed attire to rights, and adjusted his +hair. Peyton, with a feeling of some relief, made to +stretch the wounded leg, but a sharp twinge cut the +movement short.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119' name='page_119'></a>119</span></div> +<p>“You should make a good surgeon,” Peyton said +at last, “you tie so damnably tight a bandage.”</p> +<p>“I’ve bound up many a wound, sir,” said Williams; +“and some far worse than yours. ’Tis not a dangerous +cut, yours, though ’twill be irritating while it +lasts. You won’t walk for a day or two.”</p> +<p>“It’s remarkable your mistress has so much +trouble taken with me, when she intends to deliver +me to the British.”</p> +<p>Peyton had inferred the steward’s place in the +house, from his appearance and manner.</p> +<p>“Why, sir,” said Williams, “we couldn’t have you +bleeding over the floor and furniture. Besides, I +suppose she wants to hand you over in good condition.”</p> +<p>“I see! No bedraggled remnant of a man, but a +complete, clean, and comfortable candidate for Cunningham’s +gallows!” Peyton here forgot his wound +and attempted to sit upright, but quickly fell back +with a grimace and a groan.</p> +<p>“Better lie still, sir,” counselled Williams, sagely. +“If you need any one, you are to call Cuff. He will +be in waiting in that hall, sir.” And the steward +pointed towards the east hall. “There will be no use +trying to get away. I doubt if you could walk half +across the room without fainting. And if you could +get out of the house, you’d find black Sam on guard, +with his duck-gun,—and Sam doesn’t miss once in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120' name='page_120'></a>120</span> +a hundred times with that duck-gun. Bring those +things, Cuff.” Williams indicated Peyton’s hat, +remnant of sword, and scabbard, which had been +placed on the armchair by the fireside.</p> +<p>“Leave my sword!” commanded Peyton.</p> +<p>“Can’t, sir!” said Williams, affably. “Miss Elizabeth’s +orders were to take it away.”</p> +<p>Williams thereupon went from the room, crossed +the east hall, and entered the dining-room, to report +to Elizabeth, who now sat at supper with Miss Sally +and Mr. Valentine.</p> +<p>Cuff, with basin of water in one hand, took up the +hat, sword, and scabbard, with the other.</p> +<p>“Miss Elizabeth!” mused Peyton. “Queen Elizabeth, +I should say, in this house. Gad, to be a girl’s +prisoner, tied down to a sofa by so small a cut!” +Hereupon he addressed Cuff, who was about to +depart: “Where is your mistress?”</p> +<p>“In the dining-room, eating supper.”</p> +<p>“And Mr. Colden, whom I saw in that hall about +an hour ago, when I bought the horse?”</p> +<p>“Major Colden rode back to New York.”</p> +<p>“<i>Major</i> Colden! Major of what?”</p> +<p>“New Juzzey Vollingteers, sir.”</p> +<p>“What? Then he is in the King’s service, after +all? And when I was here with my troops he said +he was neutral. I’ll never take a Tory’s word +again.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121' name='page_121'></a>121</span></div> +<p>“Am you like to hab de chance, sir?” queried +Cuff, with a grin.</p> +<p>“What! You taunt me with my situation?” And +Harry’s head shot up from the sofa as he made to +rise and chastise the boy; but he could not stand +on his leg, and so remained sitting, propped on his +right arm, panting and glaring at the negro.</p> +<p>Cuff, whose whiteness of teeth had shown in his +moment of mirth, now displayed much whiteness of +eye in his alarm at Peyton’s movement, and glided to +the door. As he went out to the hall, he passed +Molly, who was coming into the parlor with a bowl +of broth.</p> +<p>“Hah!” ejaculated Peyton as she came towards +him. “They would feed the animal for the slaughter, +eh?”</p> +<p>Molly curtseyed.</p> +<p>“Please, sir, it wa’n’t they sent this. I brought it +of my own accord, sir, though with Miss Elizabeth’s +permission.”</p> +<p>“Oh! so Miss Elizabeth <i>did</i> give her permission, +then?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir. At least, she said it didn’t matter, if I +wished to.”</p> +<p>“And you did wish to? Well, you’re a good girl, +and I thank you.”</p> +<p>Whereupon Peyton took the bowl and sipped of +the broth with relish.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122' name='page_122'></a>122</span></div> +<p>“Thank you, sir,” said Molly, who then moved a +small light chair from its place by the wall to a spot +beside the sofa and within Peyton’s reach. “You +can set the bowl on this,” she added. “I must go +back to the kitchen.” And, after another curtsey, +she was gone.</p> +<p>The broth revived Peyton, and with all his pain +and fatigue he had some sense of comfort. The +handsome, well warmed, well lighted parlor, so +richly furnished, so well protected from the wind +and weather by the solid shutters outside its four +small-paned windows, was certainly a snug corner +of the world. So far seemed all this from stress +and war, that Peyton lost his strong realization of the +fate that Elizabeth’s threat promised him. Appreciation +of his surroundings drove away other thoughts +and feelings. That he should be taken and hanged +was an idea so remote from his present situation, it +seemed rather like a dream than an imminent reality. +There surely would be a way of his getting hence in +safety. And he imbibed mouthful after mouthful of +the warm broth.</p> +<p>Presently old Mr. Valentine reappeared, from the +east hall, looking none the less comfortable for the +supper he had eaten. A long pipe was in his hand, +and, that he might absorb smoke and liquor at the +same time, he had brought with him from the table, +where the two ladies remained, a vast mug of hot +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123' name='page_123'></a>123</span> +rum punch of Williams’s brewing. He now set the +mug on the mantel, lighted his pipe with a brand +from the fire, repossessed himself of the mug, and +sat down in the armchair, with a sigh of huge satisfaction. +It mattered not that this was the parlor of +Philipse Manor-house,—for Mr. Valentine, in his +innocent way, indulged himself freely in the privileges +and presumptions of old age.</p> +<p>Peyton, after staring for some time with curiosity +at the smoky old gentleman, who rapidly grew smokier, +at last raised the bowl of broth for a last gulp, +saying, cheerily:</p> +<p>“To your very good health, sir!”</p> +<p>“Thank you, sir!” said the old man, complacently, +not making any movement to reciprocate.</p> +<p>“What! won’t you drink to mine?”</p> +<p>“’Twould be a waste of words to drink the health +of a man that’s going to be hanged,” replied Valentine, +who at supper had heard the ladies discuss +Peyton’s intended fate. He thereupon sent a cloud +of smoke ceiling-ward for the flying cherubs to rest on.</p> +<p>“The devil! You <i>are</i> economical!”</p> +<p>“Of words, maybe, not of liquor.” The octogenarian +quaffed deeply from the mug. “They say +hanging is an easy death,” he went on, being in loquacious +mood. “I never saw but one man hanged. +He didn’t seem to enjoy it.” Mr. Valentine puffed +slowly, inwardly dwelling on the recollection.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124' name='page_124'></a>124</span></div> +<p>“Oh, didn’t he?” said Peyton.</p> +<p>“No, he took it most unpleasant like.”</p> +<p>“Did you come in here to cheer me up in my last +hours?” queried Harry, putting the empty bowl on +the chair by the sofa.</p> +<p>“No,” replied the other, ingenuously. “I came +in for a smoke while the ladies stayed at the table.” +He then went back to a subject that seemed to have +attractions for him. “I don’t know how hanging will +go with you. Cunningham will do the work.<a href='#Footnote_0005' class='fnanchor'>[5]</a> They +say he makes it as disagreeable as may be. I’d come +and see you hanged, but it won’t be possible.”</p> +<p>“Then I suppose I shall have to excuse you,” said +Peyton, with resignation.</p> +<p>“Yes.” The old man had finished his punch and +set down his mug, and he now yawned with a completeness +that revealed vastly more of red toothless +mouth than one might have calculated his face could +contain. “Some take it easier than others,” he +went on. “It’s harder with young men like you.” +Again he opened his jaws in a gape as whole-souled +as that of a house-dog before a kitchen fire. “It +must be disagreeable to have a rope tightened around +your neck. I don’t know.” He thrust his pipe-stem +absently between his lips, closed his eyes, mumbled +absently, “I don’t know,” and in a few moments was +asleep, his pipe hanging from his mouth, his hands +folded in his lap.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125' name='page_125'></a>125</span></div> +<p>“A cheerful companion for a man in my situation,” +thought Peyton. His mind had been brought +back to the future. When would this resolute and +vengeful Miss Elizabeth fulfil her threat? How +would she proceed about it? Had she already taken +measures towards his conveyance to the British lines? +Should she delay until he should be able to walk, +there would be two words about the matter. Meanwhile, +he must wait for developments. It was useless +to rack his brain with conjectures. His sense +of present comfort gradually resumed sway, and he +placed his head again on the sofa pillow and closed +his eyes.</p> +<p>He was conscious for a time of nothing but his +deadened pain, his inward comfort, the breathing of +old Mr. Valentine, the intermittent raging of the +wind without, and the steady ticking of the clock on +the mantel,—which delicately framed timepiece had +been started within the hour by Sam, who knew +Miss Elizabeth’s will for having all things in running +order. Peyton’s drowsiness wrapped him closer and +closer. Presently he was remotely aware of the +opening of the door, the tread of light feet on the +floor, the swish of skirts. But he had now reached +that lethargic point which involves total indifference +to outer things, and he did not even open his eyes.</p> +<p>“Asleep,” said Elizabeth, for it was she who had +entered with her aunt.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126' name='page_126'></a>126</span></div> +<p>Harry recognized the voice, and knew that he was +the subject of her remark; but his feeling towards +his contemptuous captor was not such as to make +him take the trouble of setting her right. Therefore, +he kept his eyes closed, having a kind of satisfaction +in her being mistaken.</p> +<p>“How handsome!” whispered Miss Sally, who +beamed more bigly and benignly after supper than +before.</p> +<p>“Which one, aunty?” said Elizabeth, looking +from Peyton to old Valentine.</p> +<p>Her aunt deigned to this levity only a look of +hopeless reproof.</p> +<p>Elizabeth sat down on the music-seat before the +spinet, and became serious,—or, more accurately, +businesslike.</p> +<p>“On second thought,” said she, “it won’t do to +keep him here waiting for one of our patrols to pass +this way. In the meantime some of the rebels might +come into the neighborhood and stop here. He +must be delivered to the British this very night!”</p> +<p>Peyton gave no outward sign of the momentary +heart stoppage he felt within.</p> +<p>“Why,” said the aunt, speaking low, and in some +alarm, “’twould require Williams and both the blacks +to take him, and we should be left alone in the +house.”</p> +<p>“I sha’n’t send him to the troops,” said Elizabeth, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127' name='page_127'></a>127</span> +in her usual tone, not caring whether or not the +prisoner should be disturbed,—for in his powerlessness +he could not oppose her plans if he did know +them, and in her disdain she had no consideration +for his feelings. “The troops shall come for him. +Black Sam shall go to the watch-house at King’s +Bridge with word that there’s an important rebel +prisoner held here, to be had for the taking.”</p> +<p>“Will the troops at King’s Bridge heed the story +of a black man?” Aunt Sally seemed desirous of +interposing objections to immediate action.</p> +<p>“Their officer will heed a written message from +me,” said the niece. “Most of the officers know +me, and those at King’s Bridge are aware I came +here to-day.”</p> +<p>Thereupon she called in Cuff, and sent him off +for Williams, with orders that the steward should +bring her pen, ink, paper, and wax.</p> +<p>“Oh, Elizabeth!” cried Miss Sally, looking at the +floor. “Here’s some of the poor fellow’s blood on +the carpet.”</p> +<p>“Never mind. The blood of an enemy is a sight +easily tolerated,” said the girl, probably unaware +how nearly she had duplicated a famous utterance of +a certain King of France, whose remark had borne +reference to another sense than that of sight.<a href='#Footnote_0006' class='fnanchor'>[6]</a></p> +<p>Williams soon came in with the writing materials, +and placed them, at Elizabeth’s direction, on a table +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128' name='page_128'></a>128</span> +that stood between the two eastern windows, and on +which was a lighted candelabrum. Elizabeth sat +down at the table, her back towards the fireplace +and Peyton.</p> +<p>“I wish you to send black Sam to me,” said she +to the steward, “and to take his place on guard with +the gun till he returns from an errand.”</p> +<p>Williams departed, and Elizabeth began to make +the quill fly over the paper, her aunt looking on from +beside the table. Peyton opened his eyes and looked +at them.</p> +<p>“It does seem a pity,” said Miss Sally at last. +“Such a pretty gentleman,—such a gallant soldier!”</p> +<p>“Gentleman?” echoed Elizabeth, writing on. +“The fellow is not a gentleman! Nor a gallant +soldier!”</p> +<p>Peyton rose to a sitting posture as if stung by a +hornet, but was instantly reminded of his wound. +But neither Elizabeth nor her aunt saw or heard his +movement. The girl, unaware that he was awake, +continued:</p> +<p>“Does a gentleman or a gallant soldier desert the +army of his king to join that of his king’s enemies?”</p> +<p>Quick came the answer,—not from aunt Sally, +but from Peyton on the sofa.</p> +<p>“A gallant soldier has the right to choose his +side, and a gentleman need not fight against his +country!”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129' name='page_129'></a>129</span></div> +<p>Elizabeth did not suffer herself to appear startled +at this sudden breaking in. Having finished her +note, she quietly folded it, and addressed it, while +she said:</p> +<p>“A gallant soldier, having once chosen his side, +will be loyal to it; and a gentleman never bore the +odious title of deserter.”</p> +<p>“A gentleman can afford to wear any title that is +redeemed by a glorious cause and an extraordinary +danger. When I took service with the King’s army +in England, I never dreamt that army would be sent +against the King’s own colonies; and not till I +arrived in Boston did I know the true character of +this revolt. We thought we were coming over +merely to quell a lawless Boston rabble. I gave +in my resignation—”</p> +<p>“But did not wait for it to be accepted,” interrupted +Elizabeth, quietly, as she applied to the folded +paper the wax softened by the flame of a candle.</p> +<p>“I <i>was</i> a little hasty,” said Harry.</p> +<p>“The rebel army was the proper place for such +fellows,” said Elizabeth. “No true British officer +would be guilty of such a deed!”</p> +<p>“Probably not! It required exceptional courage!”</p> +<p>Peyton knew, as well as any, that the British +were brave enough; but he was in mood for sharp +retort.</p> +<p>“That is not the reason,” said Elizabeth, coldly, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130' name='page_130'></a>130</span> +refusing to show wrath. “Your enemies hold such +acts as yours in detestation.”</p> +<p>“I am not serving in this war for the approbation +of my enemies.”</p> +<p>At this moment black Sam came in. Elizabeth +handed him the letter, and said:</p> +<p>“You are to take my horse Cato, and ride with +this message to the British barrier at King’s Bridge. +It is for the officer in command there. When the +sentries challenge you, show this, and say it is of the +greatest consequence and must be delivered at once.”</p> +<p>“Yes, Miss Elizabeth.”</p> +<p>“The commander,” she went on, “will probably +send here a body of troops at once, to convey this +prisoner within the lines. You are to return with +them. If no time is lost, and they send mounted +troops, you should be back in an hour.”</p> +<p>Peyton could hardly repress a start.</p> +<p>“An hour at most, miss, if nothing stops,” said +the negro.</p> +<p>“If any officer of my acquaintance is in command,” +said Elizabeth, “there will be no delay. Cuff shall +let the troops in, through that hall, as soon as they +arrive.”</p> +<p>Whereupon the black man, a stalwart and courageous +specimen of his race, went rapidly from the +room.</p> +<p>“One hour!” murmured Peyton, looking at the +clock.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131' name='page_131'></a>131</span></div> +<p>Molly, the maid, now reappeared, carrying carefully +in one hand a cup, from which a thin steam ascended.</p> +<p>“What is’t now, Molly?” inquired Elizabeth, +rising from her chair.</p> +<p>Molly blushed and was much confused. “Tea, +ma’am, if you please! I thought, maybe, you’d +allow the gentleman—”</p> +<p>“Very well,” said Elizabeth. “Be the good +Samaritan if you like, child. His tea-drinking days +will soon be over. Come, aunt Sally, we shall be in +better company elsewhere.” And she returned to +the dining-room, not deigning her prisoner another +look.</p> +<p>Miss Sally followed, but her feelings required confiding +in some one, and before she went she whispered +to the embarrassed maid, “Oh, Molly, to think +so sweet a young gentleman should be completely +wasted!”</p> +<p>Molly heaved a sigh, and then approached the +young gentleman himself, with whom she was now +alone, saving the presence of the slumbering Valentine.</p> +<p>“So your name is Molly? And you’ve brought +me tea this time?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir,—if you please, sir.” She took up the +bowl from the chair and placed the cup in its stead. +“I put sugar in this, sir, but if you’d rather—”</p> +<p>“I’d rather have it just as you’ve made it, Molly,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132' name='page_132'></a>132</span> +he said, in a singularly gentle, unsteady tone. He +raised the cup, and sipped. “Delicious, Molly!—Hah! +Your mistress thinks my tea-drinking days +will soon be over.”</p> +<p>“I’m very sorry, sir.”</p> +<p>“So am I.” He held the cup in his left hand, +supporting his upright body with his right arm, and +looked rather at vacancy than at the maid. “Never +to drink tea again,” he said, “or wine or spirits, for +that matter! To close your eyes on this fine world! +Never again to ride after the hounds, or sing, or +laugh, or chuck a pretty girl under the chin!”</p> +<p>And here, having set down the cup, he chucked +Molly herself under the chin, pretending a gaiety he +did not feel.</p> +<p>“Never again,” he went on, “to lead a charge +against the enemies of our liberty; not to live to see +this fight out, the King’s regiments driven from the +land, the States take their place among the free +nations of the world! <i>By God, Molly, I don’t want +to die yet!</i>”</p> +<p>It was not the fear of death, it was the love of +life, and what life might have in reserve, that moved +him; and it now asserted itself in him with a force +tenfold greater than ever before. Death,—or, rather, +the ceasing of life,—as he viewed it now, when he +was like to meet it without company, with prescribed +preliminaries, in an ignominious mode, was a far +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133' name='page_133'></a>133</span> +other thing than as viewed in the exaltation of battle, +when a man chances it hot-headed, uplifted, +thrilled, in gallant comradeship, to his own fate +rendered careless by a sense of his nothingness in +comparison with the whole vast drama. Moreover, +in going blithely to possible death in open fight, one +accomplishes something for his cause; not so, going +unwillingly to certain death on an enemy’s gallows. +It was, too, an exasperating thought that he should die +to gratify the vengeful whim of an insolent Tory girl.</p> +<p>“Will it really come to that?” asked Molly, in a +frightened tone.</p> +<p>“As surely as I fall into British hands!”</p> +<p>Peyton remembered the case of General Charles +Lee, whose resignation of half-pay had not been acknowledged; +who was, when captured by the British, +long in danger of hanging, and who was finally rated +as an ordinary war prisoner only for Washington’s +threat to retaliate on five Hessian field officers. If +a major-general, whose desertion, even if admitted, +was from half-pay only, would have been hanged +without ceremony but for General Howe’s fear of a +“law scrape,” and had been saved from shipment to +England for trial, only by the King’s fear that Washington’s +retaliation would disaffect the Hessian allies, +for what could a mere captain look, who had come +over from the enemy in action, and whose punishment +would entail no official retaliation?</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134' name='page_134'></a>134</span></div> +<p>“And your mistress expects a troop of British +soldiers here in an hour to take me! Damn it, if I +could only walk!” And he looked rapidly around +the room, in a kind of distraction, as if seeking some +means of escape. Realizing the futility of this, he +sighed dismally, and drank the remainder of the tea.</p> +<p>“You couldn’t get away from the house, sir,” said +Molly. “Williams is watching outside.”</p> +<p>“I’d take a chance if I could only run!” Peyton +muttered. He had no fear that Molly would betray +him. “If there were some hiding-place I might +crawl to! But the troops would search every cranny +about the house.” He turned to Molly suddenly, +seeing, in his desperate state and his lack of time, +but one hope. “I wonder, could Williams be bribed +to spirit me away?”</p> +<p>Molly’s manner underwent a slight chill.</p> +<p>“Oh, no,” said she. “He’d die before he’d disobey +Miss Elizabeth. We all would, sir. I’m very +sorry, indeed, sir.” Whereupon, taking up the +empty bowl and teacup, she hastened from the +room.</p> +<p>Peyton sat listening to the clock-ticks. He moved +his right leg so that the foot rested on the floor, then +tried to move the left one after it, using his hand to +guide it. With great pains and greater pain, he +finally got the left foot beside the right. He then +undertook to stand, but the effort cost him such +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135' name='page_135'></a>135</span> +physical agony as could not be borne for any length +of time. He fell back with a groan to the sofa, convinced +that the wounded leg was not only, for the +time, useless itself, but also an impediment to whatever +service the other leg might have rendered alone. +But he remained sitting up, his right foot on the +floor.</p> +<p>Suddenly there was a raucous sound from old Mr. +Valentine. He had at last begun to snore. But +this infliction brought its own remedy, for when his +jaws opened wider his tobacco pipe fell from his +mouth and struck his folded hands. He awoke with +a start, and blinked wonderingly at Peyton, whose +face, turned towards the old man, still wore the look +of disapproval evoked by the momentary snoring.</p> +<p>“Still here, eh?” piped Mr. Valentine. “I dreamt +you were being hanged to the fireplace, like a pig to +be smoked. I was quite upset over it! Such a fine +young gentleman, and one of Harry Lee’s officers, +too!”</p> +<p>And the old man shook his head deploringly.</p> +<p>“Then why don’t you help me out of this?” demanded +Peyton, whose impulse was for grasping at +straws, for he thought of black Sam urging Cato +through the wind towards King’s Bridge at a +gallop.</p> +<p>“It ain’t possible,” said Valentine, phlegmatically.</p> +<p>“If it were, would you?” asked Harry, a spark of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136' name='page_136'></a>136</span> +hope igniting from the appearance that the old man +was, at least, not antagonistic to him.</p> +<p>“Why, yes,” began the octogenarian, placidly.</p> +<p>Harry’s heart bounded.</p> +<p>“If,” the old man went on, “I could without +lending aid to the King’s enemies. But you see I +couldn’t. I won’t lend aid to neither side’s enemies.<a href='#Footnote_0007' class='fnanchor'>[7]</a> +I don’t want to die afore my time.” And he gazed +complacently at the fire.</p> +<p>Peyton knew the hopeless immovability of selfish +old age.</p> +<p>“God!” he muttered, in despair. “Is there no +one I can turn to?”</p> +<p>“There’s none within hearing would dare go +against the orders of Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. +Valentine.</p> +<p>“Miss Elizabeth evidently rules with a firm hand,” +said Peyton, bitterly. “Her word—” He stopped +suddenly, as if struck by a new thought. “If I +could but move <i>her</i>! If I could make her change +her mind!”</p> +<p>“You couldn’t. No one ever could, and as for a +rebel soldier—”</p> +<p>“She has a heart of iron, that girl!” broke in +Peyton. “The cruelty of a savage!”</p> +<p>Mr. Valentine took on a sincerely deprecating +look. “Oh, you mustn’t abuse Miss Elizabeth,” +said he. “It ain’t cruelty, it’s only proper pride. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137' name='page_137'></a>137</span> +And she isn’t hard. She has the kindest heart,—to +those she’s fond of.”</p> +<p>“To those she’s fond of,” repeated Harry, mechanically.</p> +<p>“Yes,” said the old man; “her people, her horses, +her dogs and cats, and even her servants and slaves.”</p> +<p>“Tender creature, who has a heart for a dog and +not for a man!”</p> +<p>The old man’s loyalty to three generations of +Philipses made him a stubborn defender, and he +answered:</p> +<p>“She’d have no less a heart for a man if she +loved him.”</p> +<p>“If she loved him!” echoed Peyton, and began to +think.</p> +<p>“Ay, and a thousand times more heart, loving +him as a woman loves a man.” Mr. Valentine +spoke knowingly, as one acquainted by enviable +experience with the measure of such love.</p> +<p>“As a woman loves a man!” repeated Peyton. +Suddenly he turned to Valentine. “Tell me, does +she love any man so, now?” Peyton did not know +the relation in which Elizabeth and Major Colden +stood to each other.</p> +<p>“I can’t say she <i>loves</i> one,” replied Valentine, +judicially, “though—”</p> +<p>But Peyton had heard enough.</p> +<p>“By heaven, I’ll try it!” he cried. “Such +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138' name='page_138'></a>138</span> +miracles have happened! And I have almost an +hour!”</p> +<p>Old Valentine blinked at him, with stupid lack of +perception. “What is it, sir?”</p> +<p>“I shall try it!” was Peyton’s unenlightening +answer. “There’s one chance. And you can help +me!”</p> +<p>“The devil I can!” replied Valentine, rising +from his chair in some annoyance. “I won’t lend +aid, I tell you!”</p> +<p>“It won’t be ‘lending aid.’ All I beg is that you +ask Miss Elizabeth to see me alone at once,—and +that you’ll forget all I’ve said to you. Don’t stand +staring! For Christ’s sake, go and ask her to come +in! Don’t you know? Only an hour,—less than +that, now!”</p> +<p>“But she mayn’t come here for the asking,” +objected the old man, somewhat dazed by Peyton’s +petulance.</p> +<p>“She <i>must</i> come here!” cried Harry. “Induce +her, beg her, entice her! Tell her I have a last +request to make of my jailer,—no, excite her curiosity; +tell her I have a confession to make, a plot to +disclose,—anything! In heaven’s name, go and +send her here!”</p> +<p>It was easier to comply with so light a request +than to remain recipient of such torrent-like importunity. +“I’ll try, sir,” said the peace-loving old +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139' name='page_139'></a>139</span> +man, “but I have no hope,” and he hobbled from +the room. He left the door open as he went, and +Harry, tortured by impatience, heard him shuffling +over the hall floor to the dining-room.</p> +<p>Peyton’s mind was in a whirl. He glanced at the +clock. These were his thoughts:</p> +<p>“Fifty minutes! To make a woman love me! +A proud woman, vain and wilful, who hates our +cause, who detests me! To make her love me! +How shall I begin? Keep your wits now, Harry, +my son,—’tis for your life! How to begin? Why +doesn’t she come? Damn the clock, how loud it +ticks! I feel each tick. No, ’tis my heart I feel. +My God, <i>will</i> she not come? And the time is +going—”</p> +<p>“Well, sir, what is it?”</p> +<p>He looked from the clock to the doorway, where +stood Elizabeth.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140' name='page_140'></a>140</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_VII_THE_FLIGHT_OF_THE_MINUTES' id='CHAPTER_VII_THE_FLIGHT_OF_THE_MINUTES'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VII.</h2> +<h3>THE FLIGHT OF THE MINUTES.</h3> +</div> +<p class='dropcap'><span class='dcap'>The</span> silence of her entrance was from her having, +a few minutes earlier, exchanged her riding-boots +for satin slippers.</p> +<p>“I—I thank you for coming, madam,” said +Peyton, feeling the necessity of a prompt reply to +her imperious look of inquiry, yet without a practicable +idea in his head. “I had—that is—a request +to make.”</p> +<p>He was trembling violently, not from fear, but +from that kind of agitation which often precedes the +undertaking of a critical task, as when a suppliant +awaits an important interview, or an actor assumes +for the first time a new part.</p> +<p>“Mr. Valentine said a confession,” said Elizabeth, +holding him in a coldly resentful gaze.</p> +<p>“Why, yes, a confession,” said he, hopelessly.</p> +<p>“A plot to disclose,” she added, with sharp impatience. +“What is it?”</p> +<p>“You shall hear,” he began, in gloomy desperation, +without the faintest knowledge of how he should +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141' name='page_141'></a>141</span> +finish. “I—ah—it is this—” His wandering +glance fell on the table and the writing materials she +had left there. “I wish to write a letter—a last +letter—to a friend.” The vague general outline of +a project arose in his mind.</p> +<p>Elizabeth was inclined to be as laconic as implacable. +“Write it,” said she. “There are pen and +ink.”</p> +<p>“But I can’t write in this position,” said Peyton, +quickly, lest she might leave the room. “I fear I +can’t even hold a pen. Will you not write for +me?”</p> +<p>“I? Secretary to a horse-thieving rebel!”</p> +<p>“It is a last request, madam. A last request is +sacred,—even an enemy’s.”</p> +<p>“I will send in some one to write for you.” And +she turned to go.</p> +<p>“But this letter will contain secrets.”</p> +<p>“Secrets?” The very word is a charm to a woman. +Elizabeth’s curiosity was touched but slightly, +yet sufficiently to stay her steps for the moment.</p> +<p>“Ay,” said Peyton, lowering his tone and speaking +quickly, “secrets not for every ear. Secrets of the +heart, madam,—secrets so delicate that, to convey +them truly, I need the aid of more than common tact +and understanding.”</p> +<p>He watched her eagerly, and tried to repress the +signs of his anxiety.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142' name='page_142'></a>142</span></div> +<p>Elizabeth considered for a moment, then went to +the table and sat down by it.</p> +<p>“But,” said she, regarding him with angry suspicion, +“the confession,—the plot?”</p> +<p>“Why, madam,” said he, his heart hammering +forcefully, “do you think I may communicate them +to you directly? The letter shall relate them, too, +and if the person who holds the pen for me pays +heed to the letter’s contents, is it my fault?”</p> +<p>“I understand,” said the woman, entrapped, and +she dipped the quill into the ink.</p> +<p>“The letter,” began Peyton, slowly, hesitating for +ideas, and glancing at the clock, yet not retaining a +sense of where the hands were, “is to Mr. Bryan +Fairfax—”</p> +<p>“What?” she interrupted. “Kinsman to Lord +Fairfax, of Virginia?”</p> +<p>“There’s but one Mr. Bryan Fairfax,” said Peyton, +acquiring confidence from his preliminary expedient +to overcome prejudice, “and, though he’s on the side +of King George in feeling, yet he’s my friend,—a +circumstance that should convince even you I’m not +scum o’ the earth, rebel though you call me. He’s +the friend of Washington, too.”</p> +<p>“Poh! Who is your Washington? My aunt +Mary rejected him, and married his rival in this very +room!”</p> +<p>“And a good thing Washington didn’t marry +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143' name='page_143'></a>143</span> +her!” said Peyton, gallantly. “She’d have tried +to turn him Tory, and the ladies of this family are +not to be resisted.”</p> +<p>“Go on with your letter,” said Elizabeth, chillingly.</p> +<p>“‘Mr. Bryan Fairfax,’” dictated Peyton, steadying +his voice with an effort, “‘Towlston Hall, Fairfax +County, Virginia. My dear Fairfax: If ever these +reach you, ’twill be from out a captivity destined, +probably, to end soon in that which all dread, yet to +which all must come; a captivity, nevertheless, +sweetened by the divinest presence that ever bore +the name of woman—’”</p> +<p>Elizabeth stopped writing, and looked up, with an +astonishment so all-possessing that it left no room +even for indignation.</p> +<p>Peyton, his eyes astray in the preoccupation of +composition, did not notice her look, but, as if moved +by enthusiasm, rose on his right leg and stood, his +hands placed on the back of the light chair by the +sofa, the chair’s front being turned from him. He +went on, with an affectation of repressed rapture: +“‘’Twere worth even death to be for a short hour +the prisoner of so superb—’”</p> +<p>“Sir, what are you saying?” And Elizabeth +dropped the pen, and stood up, regarding him with +freezing resentment.</p> +<p>“My thoughts, madam,” said he, humbly, meeting +her gaze.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144' name='page_144'></a>144</span></div> +<p>“How dare you jest with me?” said she.</p> +<p>“Jest? Does a man jest in the face of his own +death?”</p> +<p>“’Twas a jest to bid me write such lies!”</p> +<p>“Lies? ’Fore gad, the mirror yonder will not +call them lies!” He indicated the oblong glass set +in above the mantel. “If there is lying, ’tis my eyes +that lie! ’Tis only what they tell me, that my lips +report.”</p> +<p>Keeping his left foot slightly raised from the floor, +he pushed the chair a little towards her, and himself +followed it, resting his weight partly on its back, +while he hopped with his right foot. But Elizabeth +stayed him with a gesture of much imperiousness.</p> +<p>“What has such rubbish to do with your confession +and your plot?” she demanded.</p> +<p>“Can you not see?” And he now let some +of his real agitation appear, that it might serve as +the lover’s perturbation which it would be well to +display.</p> +<p>“My confession is of the instant yielding of my +heart to the charms of a goddess.”</p> +<p>In those days lovers, real or pretended, still talked +of goddesses, flames, darts, and such.</p> +<p>“Who desired your heart to yield to anything?” +was Miss Elizabeth’s sharply spoken reply.</p> +<p>“Beauty <i>commanded</i> it, madam!” said he, bowing +low over his chair-back.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145' name='page_145'></a>145</span></div> +<p>“So, then, there was no plot?” Her eyes flashed +with indignation.</p> +<p>“A plot, yes!” He glanced sidewise at the +clock, and drew self-reliance from the very situation, +which began to intoxicate him. “<i>My</i> plot, to attract +you hither, by that message, that I might console +myself for my fate by the joy of seeing you!”</p> +<p>“The joy of seeing me!” She spoke with incredulity +and contempt.</p> +<p>A glad boldness had come over Peyton. He felt +himself masterful, as one feels who is drunk with +wine; yet, unlike such a one, he had command of +mind and body.</p> +<p>“Ay, joy,” said he, “joy none the less that you +are disdainful! Pride is the attribute of queens, +and tenderness is not the only mood in which a +woman may conquer. Heaven! You can so discomfit +a man with your frowns, <i>what</i> might you do +with your smile!”</p> +<p>He felt now that he could dissimulate to fool the +very devil.</p> +<p>But Elizabeth, though interested as one may be in +an oddity, seemed not otherwise impressed. ’Twas +something, however, that she remained in the room +to answer:</p> +<p>“I do not know what I have done with my frown, +nor what I might do with my smile, but, whatever it +be, <i>you</i> are not like to see!”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146' name='page_146'></a>146</span></div> +<p>“That I know,” said Peyton, and added, at a reckless +venture, “and am consoled, when I consider that +no other man has seen!”</p> +<p>“How do you know that?”</p> +<p>“Your smile is not for any common man, and I’ll +wager your heart is as whole as your beauty.”</p> +<p>She looked at him for a moment of silence, then:</p> +<p>“I cannot imagine why you say all this,” quoth +she, in real puzzlement.</p> +<p>“’Tis an easing to the tortured heart to reveal +itself,” he answered, “as one would fain uncover an +inner wound, though there be no hope of cure. I +can go the calmer to my doom for having at least +given outlet in words to the flame kindled in a +moment within me. My doom! Yes, and none so +unwelcome, either, if by it I escape a lifetime of vain +longing!”</p> +<p>“Your talk is incomprehensible, sir. If you are +serious, it must be that your head is turned.”</p> +<p>“My head is turned, doubtless, but by you!”</p> +<p>He was now assuming the low, quick, nervous +utterance that is often associated with intense repressed +feeling; and his words were accompanied by +his best possible counterfeit of the burning, piercing, +distraught gaze of passion. Though he acted a part, +it was not with the cold-blooded art of a mimic who +simulates by rule; it was with the animation due to +imagining himself actually swayed by the feeling he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147' name='page_147'></a>147</span> +would feign. While he <i>knew</i> his emotion to be fictitious, +he <i>felt</i> it as if it were real, and his consequent +actions were the same as if real it were.</p> +<p>“I’m sure the act was not intentional with me,” +said Elizabeth. “I’d best leave you, lest you grow +worse.” And she moved towards the door.</p> +<p>Peyton had rapid work of it, pushing the chair +before him and hopping after it, so as to intercept +her. In the excitement of the moment, he lost his +mastery of himself.</p> +<p>“But you must not go! Hear me, I beg! Good +God, only a half hour left!”</p> +<p>“A half hour?” repeated Elizabeth, inquiringly.</p> +<p>“I mean,” said Peyton, recovering his wits, “a +half hour till the troops may be here for me,—only +a half hour until I must leave your house forever! +Do not let me be deprived of the sight of you for +those last minutes! Tis so short a time, yet ’tis all +my life!”</p> +<p>“The man is mad, I think!” She spoke as if +to herself.</p> +<p>“Mad!” he echoed. “Yes, some do call it a madness—the +love that’s born of a glance, and lasts till +death!”</p> +<p>“Love!” said she. “’Tis impossible you should +come to love me, in so short a time.”</p> +<p>“’Tis born of a glance, I tell you!” he cried. +“What is it, if not love, that makes me forget my +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148' name='page_148'></a>148</span> +coming death, see only you, hear only you, think of +only you? Why do I not spend this time, this last +hour, in pleading for my life, in begging you to hide +me and send the troops away without me when they +come? They would take your word, and you are a +woman, and women are moved by pleading. Why, +then, do I not, in the brief time I have left, beg for +my life? Because my passion blinds me to all else, +because I would use every moment in pouring out +my heart to you, because my feelings must have outlet +in words, because it is more than life or death to +me that you should know I love you!—God, how +fast that clock goes!”</p> +<p>She had stood in wonderment, under the spell of +his vehemence. Now, as he leaned towards her, +over the chair-back, his breath coming rapidly, his +eyes luminous, she seemed for a moment abashed, +softened, subdued. But she put to flight his momentary +hope by starting again for the doorway, with a +low-spoken, “I must go!”</p> +<p>But he thrust his chair in her way.</p> +<p>“Nay, don’t go!” he said. “You may hear my +avowal with propriety. My people are as good as +any in Virginia.”</p> +<p>She stood regarding him with a look of scrutiny.</p> +<p>“You are a rebel against your king,” she said, +but not harshly.</p> +<p>“Is not the King soon to have his revenge? +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149' name='page_149'></a>149</span> +And is that a reason why you should leave me +now?”</p> +<p>“You deserted your first colors.”</p> +<p>“’Twas in extraordinary circumstances, and in the +right cause. And is that a reason why you—”</p> +<p>“You took my horse.”</p> +<p>“But paid you for it, and you have your horse +again. Abuse me, madam, but do not go from me. +Call me rebel, deserter, robber, what you will, but +remain with me. Denunciation from your lips is +sweeter than praise from others. Chastise me, +strike me, trample on me,—I shall worship you +none the less!”</p> +<p>He inclined his body further forward over the +chair-back, and thus was very near her. She put +out her hand to repel him. He moved back with +humility, but took her hand and kissed it, with an +appearance of passion qualified by reverence.</p> +<p>“How dare you touch my hand?” And she +quickly drew it from him.</p> +<p>“A poor wretch who loves, and is soon to die, +dares much!”</p> +<p>“You seem resigned to dying,” she remarked.</p> +<p>“Have I not said ’tis better than living with a +hopeless passion?”</p> +<p>“And yet death,” she said, “<i>that</i> kind of a +death is not pleasant.”</p> +<p>“I’m not afraid of it,” said he, wondering how the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150' name='page_150'></a>150</span> +minutes were running, yet not daring the loss of +time to look. “’Tis not in consigning me to the +enemy that you have your revenge on me, ’tis in +making me vainly love you. I receive the greater +hurt from your beauty, not from the British provost-marshal!”</p> +<p>“Bravado!” said she.</p> +<p>“Time will show,” said he.</p> +<p>“If you are so strong a man that you can endure +the one hurt so calmly, why are you not a little +stronger,—strong enough to ignore this other hurt,—this +<i>love</i>-wound, as you call it?”</p> +<p>She blushed furiously, and much against her will, +at the mere word, “love-wound.” Her mood now +seemed to be one of pretended incredulity, and yet +of a vague unwillingness that the man should be so +weak to her charms.</p> +<p>Peyton conceived that a change of play might aid +his game.</p> +<p>“By heaven,” he cried, “I will! ’Tis a weakness, +as you imply! I shall close my heart, vanquish my +feelings! No word more of love! I defy your +beauty, your proud face, your splendid eyes! I +shall die free of your image. Go where you will, +madam. It sha’n’t be a puling lover that the British +hang. A snap o’ the finger for your all-conquering +charms!—why do you not leave me?”</p> +<p>“What! Do you order me from my own parlor?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151' name='page_151'></a>151</span></div> +<p>Hope accelerated Peyton’s heart at this, but he +feigned indifference.</p> +<p>“Go or stay,” he said; “’tis nothing to me!”</p> +<p>“You rebel, you speak like that to me!”</p> +<p>Her speech rang with genuine anger, and of a +little hotter quality than he had thought to raise.</p> +<p>He was about to answer, when suddenly a sound, +far and faint, reached his ear. “Isn’t that—do you +hear—” he said, huskily, and turning cold.</p> +<p>“Horses?” said Elizabeth. “Yes,—on the road +from King’s Bridge.”</p> +<p>She went to one of the eastern windows, opened +the sash, unfastened the shutter without, and let in +a rush of cold air. Then she closed the sash and +looked out through the small panes.</p> +<p>“Is it—” said Peyton, quietly, with as much +steadiness as he could command, “I wonder—can +it be—”</p> +<p>“A troop of rangers!” said Elizabeth. “And +Sam is with them!” She closed the shutter, and +turned to Peyton, her face still glowing with the resentment +elicited by the cavalier attitude he had +assumed before this alarm. “Go or stay, ’tis nothing +to you, you said! The last insult, Sir Rebel +Captain!” and she made for the door.</p> +<p>“You mustn’t go! You mustn’t go!” was the +only speech he could summon. But she was already +passing him. He snatched a kerchief from her dress, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152' name='page_152'></a>152</span> +and dropped it on the floor. She did not observe +his act. “Pardon me!” he cried. “Your kerchief! +You’ve dropped it, don’t you see?”</p> +<p>She turned and saw it on the floor.</p> +<p>Peyton quickly stepped from behind his chair, +stooped and picked up the kerchief, kissed it, and +handed it to her, then staggered to his former support, +showing in his face and by a groan the pain +caused him by his movement.</p> +<p>“Your wound!” said Elizabeth, standing still. +“You shouldn’t have stooped!”</p> +<p>Harry’s pain and consequent weakness, added to +his consciousness of the rapidly approaching enemy, +who had already turned in from the main road, +gave him a pallor that would have claimed the +attention of a less compassionate woman even than +Elizabeth.</p> +<p>“No matter!” he murmured, feebly. Then, as if +about to swoon, he threw his head back, lost his hold +of the chair-back, and staggered to the spinet. Leaning +on this, he gasped, “My cravat! I feel as if I +were choking!” and made some futile effort with his +hand to unfasten the neck-cloth. “Would you,” he +panted, “may I beg—loosen it?”</p> +<p>She went to his side, undid the cravat, and otherwise +relieved his neck of its confinement. She could +not but meet his gaze as she did so. It was a gaze +of eager, adoring eyes. He feebly smiled his thanks, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153' name='page_153'></a>153</span> +and spoke, between short breaths, the words, “The +hour—I love you—yes, the troops!”</p> +<p>The horses were clattering up towards the house.</p> +<p>A voice of command was heard through the +window.</p> +<p>“Halt! Guard the windows and the rear, you +four!”</p> +<p>“Colden’s voice!” exclaimed Peyton.</p> +<p>Elizabeth was somewhat startled. “He must +have been still at King’s Bridge when Sam arrived,” +said she.</p> +<p>“He must be a close friend,” said Peyton.</p> +<p>“He is my affianced husband.”</p> +<p>Peyton staggered, as if shot, around the projection +of the spinet, and came to a rest in the small space +between that projection and the west wall of the +room. “Her affianced! Then it’s all up with me!”</p> +<p>The outside door was heard to open. Elizabeth +turned her back towards the spinet and Peyton, and +faced the door to the hall. That, too, was flung +wide. Peyton dropped on his right knee, behind the +spinet, leaning forward and stretching his wounded +leg out behind him, just as Colden rushed in at the +head of six of the Queen’s Rangers, who were armed +with short muskets. The major stopped short at +sight of Elizabeth, and the rangers stood behind him, +just within the door. Peyton was hidden by the +spinet.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154' name='page_154'></a>154</span></div> +<p>“Where is the rebel, Elizabeth?” cried Colden.</p> +<p>She met his gaze straight, and spoke calmly, with +a barely perceptible tremor.</p> +<p>“You are too late, Jack! The prisoner has eluded +me. Look for him on the road to Tarrytown,—and +be quick about it, for God’s sake!”</p> +<p>Colden drew back aghast, thrown from the height +of triumph to the depth of chagrin. Peyton, fearing +lest the one joyous bound of his heart might have +betrayed him, remained perfectly still, knowing that +if any movement should take Elizabeth from between +the soldiers and the projection of the spinet, or if the +soldiers should enter further and chance to look under +the spinet, he would be seen.</p> +<p>“Don’t you understand?” said Elizabeth, assuming +one impatience to conceal another. “There’s +no time to lose! ’Twas the rebel Peyton! He’s +afoot!”</p> +<p>“The road to Tarrytown, you say?” replied Colden, +gathering back his faculties.</p> +<p>“Yes, to Tarrytown! Why do you wait?” Her +vehemence of tone sufficed to cover the growing +insupportability of her situation.</p> +<p>“To the road again, men!” Colden ordered. “Till +we meet, Elizabeth!” And he hastened, with the +rangers, from the place.</p> +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_5' id='linki_5'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/i003.jpg' alt='' title='' width='324' height='500' /><br /> +<p class='caption'> +“‘YOU ARE TOO LATE, JACK!’”<br /> +</p> +</div> +<p>Peyton and Elizabeth remained motionless till the +sound of the horses was afar. Then Elizabeth called +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155' name='page_155'></a>155</span> +Williams, who, as she had supposed, had come into +the hall with the rangers. He now entered the +parlor. Elizabeth, whose back was still towards Peyton, +who had risen and was leaning on the spinet, +addressed the steward in a low, embarrassed tone, as +if ashamed of the weakness newly come over her.</p> +<p>“Williams, this gentleman will remain in the +house till his wound is healed. His presence is to +be a secret in the household. He will occupy the +southwestern chamber.” She then turned and spoke, +in a constrained manner, to Peyton, not meeting his +look. “It is the room your General Washington had +when he was my father’s guest.”</p> +<p>With an effort, she raised her eyes to his, but +shyly dropped them again. He bowed his thanks +gravely, rather shamefaced at the success of his +deception. A moment later, Elizabeth, with averted +glance, walked quickly from the room.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156' name='page_156'></a>156</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_VIII_THE_SECRET_PASSAGE' id='CHAPTER_VIII_THE_SECRET_PASSAGE'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> +<h3>THE SECRET PASSAGE.</h3> +</div> +<p class='dropcap'><span class='dcap'>The</span> steward immediately set about preparing the +designated chamber for occupancy, so that Peyton, +on being carried up to it a few minutes later, found +it warm and lighted. It was a large, square, panelled +apartment, in which the fireplace of 1682 remained +unchanged, a wide, deep, square opening, faced with +Dutch tile, of which there were countless pieces, +each piece having a picture of some Scriptural incident. +Into this fireplace, where a log was burning +crisply, Peyton gazed languidly as he lay on the bed, +his clothes having been removed by black Sam, who +had been assigned to attend him, and who now lay +in the wide hall without. Williams had taken another +look at the wound, and expressed a favorable +opinion of its condition. A lighted candle was placed +within Peyton’s reach, on a table by the bedside. +Williams had brought him, at Elizabeth’s orders, +part of what remained from the general supper. +The captain felt decidedly comfortable.</p> +<p>He supposed that Colden, after abandoning the +false chase, would make another call at the house, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157' name='page_157'></a>157</span> +but he inferred from Elizabeth’s previous conduct +that she could and would send the Tory major and +the rangers back to King’s Bridge without opportunity +of discovering her guest. And, indeed, Elizabeth +had so provided. On returning to the dining-room +from her fateful interview with Peyton, she +had answered the astonished and inquisitive looks of +Miss Sally and Mr. Valentine, by saying, in an abrupt +and reserved manner, “For important reasons I have +chosen not to give the prisoner up. He will stay in +the house for a time, and nobody is to know he is +here. Please remember, Mr. Valentine.” The old +man tried to recall Peyton’s words in asking him to +send Elizabeth to the parlor, and made a mental +effort to put this and that together; failing in which, +he decided to repeat nothing of Peyton’s conversation, +lest it might in some way appear that he had +“lent aid.” He now lighted his lantern, and sallied +forth on his long walk homeward over the windswept +roads. Elizabeth, who, much to the dismay +of her aunt’s curiosity, had not broken silence save +to give orders to the servants, now charged Williams +to stay up till Colden should return, and to +inform him that all were abed, that there was no +news of the escaped prisoner, and that she desired +the major to hasten to New York and relieve her +family’s anxiety. This command the steward executed +about midnight, with the result that the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158' name='page_158'></a>158</span> +major, utterly tired out and sadly disappointed, rode +away from the manor-house a third time that night, +more disgruntled than on either of the two previous +occasions. By this time the house was dark and +silent, Elizabeth and her aunt having long retired, +the latter with a remark concerning the effect of late +hours on the complexion, a hope that Mr. Valentine +would not fall into a puddle on the way home, and +a curiosity as to how the rebel captain fared.</p> +<p>The rebel captain, afar in his spacious chamber, +was mentally in a state of felicity. As he ceased to +remember the conquered, abashed look Elizabeth’s +face had last worn, he ceased to feel ashamed of +having deceived her. Her earlier manner recurred +to his mind, and he jubilated inwardly over having +got the better of this arrogant and vengeful young +creature. Even had she been otherwise, and had +his life depended on tricking her with a pretence +of love, he would have valued his life far above her +feelings, and would not have hesitated to practise +on her a falsehood that many a gentleman has +practised on many a maid for no higher purpose +than for the sport or for the testing of his powers, +and often for no other purpose than the maid’s +undoing in more than her feelings. How much +less, then, need he consider her feelings when he +regarded her as an enemy in war, of whom it +was his right to take all possible advantage for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159' name='page_159'></a>159</span> +the saving of his own or any other American soldier’s +life! These thoughts came only at those +moments when it occurred to him that his act +might need justification. But if he thought he +was entitled to avail himself of these excuses, he +deceived himself, for no such considerations had +been in his mind before or during his act. He +had proceeded on the impulse of self-preservation +alone, with no further thought as to the effect on +her feelings than the hope that her feelings would +be moved in his behalf. He had been totally selfish +in the matter, and yet, while it is true he had not +stopped to reason whether the act was morally +justifiable or not, he had <i>felt</i> that her attitude +warranted his deception, or, rather, he had not +felt that the deception was a discreditable act, as +he might have felt had her attitude been kindlier. +Even had he possessed any previous scruples about +that act, he would have overcome them. As it +was, the scruples came only when he thought of +that new, chastened, subdued look on her face. +Only then did he feel that his trick might be debatable, +as to whether it became a gentleman. +Only then did he take the trouble to seek justifiable +circumstances. Only then did he have a dim +sense of what might be the feelings of a girl +suddenly stormed into love. He had never been +sufficiently in love to know how serious a feeling—serious +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160' name='page_160'></a>160</span> +in its tremendous potency for joy or +pain—love is. In Virginia, in London, and in +Ireland, he had indulged himself in such little +flirtations, such amours of an hour, as helped make +up a young gentleman’s amusements. But he had +long been, as he was now, heart-free, and, though +it occurred to him that, in this girl, so great a +change of mien must arise from a pronounced +change of heart, he had no thought that her new +mood could have deep root or long life. So, less +from what thoughts he did have on the subject +than from his absence of thought thereon, he lapsed +into peace of mind, and went to sleep, rejoicing in +his security and trusting it would last. Her face +did not appear in his dreams. He had not retained +a strong or accurate impression of that face. His +mind had been too full of other things, even while +enacting his impromptu love-scene, to make note +of her beauty. He had been sensible, of course, +that she was beautiful, but there had not been +time or circumstance for flirtation. He had not +for an instant viewed her as a possible object of +conquest for its own sake. She had been to him +only an enemy, in the shape of a beautiful young +girl, and of whom it had become necessary to make +use. And so his dreams that night were made up +of wild cavalry charges, rides through the wind, +and painful crushings and tearings of his leg.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161' name='page_161'></a>161</span></div> +<p>Elizabeth’s thoughts were in a whirl, her feelings +beyond analysis. She was sensible mainly of a +wholly novel and vast pleasure at the adoration so +impetuously expressed for her by this audacious +stranger, of a pride in his masterful way, of applause +for that very manner which she had rebuked +as insolence. Was this love at last? Undoubtedly; +for she had read all the romances and plays and +poems, and, if this feeling of hers were a thing other +than the love they all described, they would have +described such a feeling also. Because she had never +felt its soft touch before, she had thought herself +exempt from it. But now that it had found lodgment +in her, she knew it at once, from the very fact +that in a flash she understood all the romances and +plays and poems that had before interested her but +as mere tales, whose motives had seemed arbitrary +and insufficient. Now they all took reality and +reason. She knew at last why Hero threw herself +into the Hellespont after Leander, why all that commotion +was caused by Helen of Troy, why Oriana +took such trouble for Mirabel, why Juliet died on +Romeo’s body, why Miss Richland paid Honeywood’s +debts. The moon, rushing through a cleft +in the clouds (she had opened one of the shutters on +putting out the candles), had for her a sudden beauty +which accounted for the fine things the poets had +said of it and love together. Yes, because it opened +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162' name='page_162'></a>162</span> +on her world of romance a magic window, letting in +a wondrous light, waking that world to throbbing +life, clothing it with indescribable charm, she knew +the name of the key that had unlocked her own +heart. Now she knew them all,—the heroes, the +fairy princes, the knights errant; perceived that +they were real and live, recognized their traits and +manners, their very faces, in that bold, free, strong +young rebel; he was Orlando, and Lovelace, and +Prince Charming, and Æneas, and Tom Jones, and +King Harry the Fifth, and young Marlowe, and even +Captain Macheath (she had read forbidden books +guilelessly, in course of reading everything at hand), +and Roderick Random, and Captain Plume, and all +the conquering, gallant, fine young fellows, at the +absurd weakness of whose sweethearts she had +marvelled beyond measure. She understood that +weakness now, and knew, too, why those sweethearts +had, in the first delicious hours of their weakness, +trembled and dropped their eyes before those +young gentlemen. For, as she mentally beheld his +image, she felt her own cheeks glow, and in imagination +was fain to drop her own eyes before his bold, +unquailing look. She wondered, with confusion and +unseen blushes, how she would face him at their +next meeting, and felt that she must not, could not, +be the one to cause that meeting. Right surely had +this fair castle, that had withstood many a long siege, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163' name='page_163'></a>163</span> +fallen now at a single onslaught, and that but a sham +onslaught. The haughty princess in her tower had +not longed for the prince, but the prince had arrived, +not to her rescue, but to the taming of her. And +alas! the prince, whom she fondly thought her lover, +was no more lover of her than of the picture of her +female ancestor on his bedroom wall!</p> +<p>She gave no thought to consequences, and, as for +Jack Colden, she simply, by power of will, kept him +out of her mind.</p> +<p>It was three days before Peyton could walk about +his room, and two days more before he felt sufficient +confidence in his wounded leg to come down-stairs +and take his meals with the household. And even +then, refusing a crutch, he used a stick in moving +about. During the five days when he kept his room, +he was waited on alternately by Sam and Cuff, who +served at his bath and brought his food; and occasionally +Molly carried to him at dinner some belated +delicacy or forgotten dish. Williams, too, visited +him daily, and expressed a kind of professional satisfaction +at the uninterrupted healing of the wound, +which the steward treated with the mysterious applications +known to home surgery. Williams lent his +own clean linen to Harry, while Harry’s underwent +washing and mending at the hands of the maid. +Old Valentine, who visited the house every day, the +weather being cold and sometimes cloudy, but without +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164' name='page_164'></a>164</span> +rain, called at the sick chamber now and then, +and filled it with tobacco smoke, homely philosophy, +and rustic reminiscence. Harry had no other visitors. +During these five days he saw not Elizabeth +or Miss Sally, save from his window twice or thrice, +at which times they were walking on the terrace. +In daytime, when no artificial light was in the room +to betray to some possible outsider the presence of +a guest, he had the shutters opened of one of the +two south windows and of one of the two west ones. +Often he reclined near a window, pleasing his eyes +with the view. Westward lay the terrace, the wide +river, the leafy, cliffs, and fair rolling country beyond. +His eye could take in also the deer paddock, which +the hand of war had robbed of its inmates, and +the great orchard northward overlooking the river. +Through the south window he could see the little +branch road and boat-landing, the old stone mill, the +winding Neperan and its broad mill-pond, and the +sloping, ravine-cut, wooded stretch of country, between +the post-road on the left and the deep-set +Hudson on the right. The spire of St. John’s +Church, among the yew-trees, with the few edifices +grouped near it, broke gratefully the deserted aspect +of things, at the left. The spacious scene, so richly +filled by nature, had in its loneliness and repose a +singular sweetness. Rarely was any one abroad. +Only when the Hessians or Loyalist dragoons patrolled +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165' name='page_165'></a>165</span> +the post-road, or when some British sloop-of-war +showed its white sails far down the river, was +there sign of human life and conflict. The deserted +look of things was in harmony with the spirit of a +book with which Harry sweetened the long hours +of his recovery. It was a book that Elizabeth had +sent up for his amusement, called “The Man of Feeling,” +and there was something in the opening picture +of the venerable mansion, with its air of melancholy, +its languid stillness, its “single crow, perched on an +old tree by the side of the gate,” and its young lady +passing between the trees with a book in her hand, +that harmonized with his own sequestered state. He +liked the tale better than the same author’s later +novel, “The Man of the World,” which he had read +a few years before. Every day he inquired about his +hostess’s health, and sent his compliments and thanks. +He was glad she did not visit him in person, for such +a visit might involve an allusion to their last previous +interview, and he did not know in what manner +he should make or treat such allusion. He felt it +would be an awkward matter to get out of the +situation of pretended adorer, and he was for putting +that awkward matter off till the last possible +moment.</p> +<p>It was necessary for him to think of his return to +the army. Duty and inclination required he should +make that return as soon as could be. His first impulse +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166' name='page_166'></a>166</span> +had been to send word of his whereabouts and +condition. But as Elizabeth had not offered a messenger, +he was loath to ask for one. Moreover, the +messenger might be intercepted by the enemy’s +patrols and induced by fear to betray the message. +Then, too, even if the messenger should reach the +American lines uncaught, a consequent attempt to +convey a wounded man from the manor hall to the +camp might attract the attention of the vigilant +patrols, and risk not only Harry’s own recapture, but +also the loss of other men. Decidedly, the best +course was to await the healing of his wound, and +then to make his way alone, under cover of night, +to the army. He knew that, whatever might occur, +it was now Elizabeth’s interest to protect him, for +should she give him up, the disclosure that she +had formerly shielded him would render her liable to +suspicion and ridicule. He felt, too, from the manifestations +he had seen of her will and of her ingenuity, +that she was quite able to protect him. So he +rested in security in the quiet old chamber, dreading +only the task of taking back his love-making. Of +that task, the difficulty would depend on Elizabeth’s +own conduct, which he could not foresee, and that in +turn on her state of heart, which he did not exactly +divine. He knew only that she had, in that critical +moment of the troops’ arrival, felt for him a tenderness +that betokened love. Whether that feeling had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167' name='page_167'></a>167</span> +flourished or declined, he could not, during the five +days when they did not meet, be aware.</p> +<p>It had not declined. She had gone on idealizing +the confident rebel captain all the while. The fact +that he was of the enemy added piquancy to the sentiments +his image aroused. It lent, too, an additional +poetic interest to the idea of their love. Was not +Romeo of the enemies of Juliet’s house? The fact +of her being now his protector, by its oppositeness +to the conventional situation, gave to their relation +the charm of novelty, and also gratified her natural +love of independence and domination. Yet that +very love, in a woman, may afford its owner keen +delight by receiving quick and confident opposition +and conquest from a man, and such Elizabeth’s had +received from Peyton, both in the matter of the +horse and in that of his successful wooing. But +the greater her softness for him, the greater was her +delicacy regarding him, and the more in conformity +with the strictest propriety must be her conduct +towards him. Her pride demanded this tribute of +her love, in compensation for the latter’s immense +exactions on the former in the sudden yielding to his +wooing. Moreover, she would not appear in anything +short of perfection in his eyes. She would +not make her company cheap to him. If she had +been a quick conquest, up to the point of her first +token of submission, she would be all the slower in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168' name='page_168'></a>168</span> +the subsequent stages, so that the complete yielding +should be no easier than ought to be that of one +valued as she would have him value her. All this +she felt rather than thought, and she acted on it +punctiliously.</p> +<p>She did not confide in her aunt, though that lady +watched her closely and had her suspicions. Yet +there was apparent so little warrant for these suspicions, +save the protection of the rebel in itself, that +Miss Sally often imagined Elizabeth had other reasons, +reasons of policy, for the sudden change of +intention that had resulted in that protection. Elizabeth’s +conduct was always so mystifying to everybody! +And when this thought possessed Miss Sally, she +underwent a pleasing agitation, which she in turn +kept secret, and which attended the hope that perhaps +the handsome captain might not be averse to +her conversation. She had both read and observed +that the taste of youth sometimes was for ripeness. +She might atone, in a measure, for Elizabeth’s disdain. +She would have liked to visit him daily, with +condolence and comfortings, but she could not do +so without previous sanction of the mistress of the +house, which sanction Elizabeth briefly but very +peremptorily refused. Miss Sally thought it a cruelty +that the prisoner should be deprived of what +consolation her society might afford, and dwelt on +this opinion until she became convinced he was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169' name='page_169'></a>169</span> +actually pining for her presence. This made her +poutish and reproachfully silent to Elizabeth, and +sighful and whimsical to herself. The slightly +strained feeling that arose between aunt and niece +was quite acceptable to Elizabeth, as it gave her +freedom for her own dreams, and prohibited any +occasion for an expression of feelings or opinions of +her own as to the captain. But Miss Sally’s symptoms +were observed by old Mr. Valentine, who, +inferring their cause, underwent much unrest on +account of them, became snappish and sarcastic +towards the lady, watchful both of her and of +Peyton, and moody towards the others in the house. +It was the old man’s disquietude regarding the state +of Miss Sally’s affections that brought him to the +house every day. For one brief while he considered +the advisability of transferring his attentions back +from Miss Sally to the widow Babcock, who had +possessed them first, but, when he tarried in the parsonage, +his fears as to what might be going on in the +manor-house made his stay in the former intolerable, +and led him irresistibly to the latter.</p> +<p>Meanwhile the wounded guest, so unconscious +of the states of mind caused by him in the household, +was the evoker of flutters in yet another female +breast. The girl, Molly, had read toilsomely through +“Pamela,” and saw no reason why an equally attractive +housemaid should not aspire to an equally high +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170' name='page_170'></a>170</span> +destiny on this side of the ocean. But, often as she +artfully contrived that the black boy should forget +some part of the guest’s dinner, and timely as she +planned her own visits with the missing portion, +she found the officer heedless of her smiles, engrossed +sometimes in his meal, sometimes in his +book, sometimes in both. She conceived a loathing +for that book, more than once resisted a temptation +to make way with it, and, having one day stolen a +look into it, thenceforth abominated the poor young +lady of it, with all the undying bitterness of an +unpreferred rival.</p> +<p>Though Elizabeth and her aunt found each other +reticent, they yet passed their time together, breakfasting +early, then visiting the widow Babcock or +some tenant, dining at noon, spending the early +afternoon, the one at her book or embroidery, the +other in a siesta before the fireplace, supping early, +then preparing for the night by a brisk walk in the +garden, or on the terrace, or to the orchard and back. +Elizabeth had Williams provided with instructions as +to his conduct in the event of a visit from King’s +troops, and, to make Peyton’s security still less +uncertain, she confined her walks to the immediate +vicinity. The house itself was kept in a pretence +of being closed, the shutters of the parlor being skilfully +adjusted to admit light, and yet, from the road, +appear fast.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171' name='page_171'></a>171</span></div> +<p>Thus Elizabeth, finding enjoyment in the very +look and atmosphere of the old house, fulfilled +quietly the purpose of her capricious visit, and at +the same time cherished a dreamy pleasure such +as she had not thought of finding in that visit.</p> +<p>On the fifth day after Peyton’s arrival, Williams +announced that the captain would venture down-stairs +on the morrow. The next morning Elizabeth +waited in the east parlor to receive him. Whatever +inward excitement she underwent, she was on the +surface serene. She was dressed in her simplest, +having purposely avoided any appearance of desiring +to appear at her best. Her aunt, who stood with her, +on the other side of the fireplace, was perceptibly +flustered, being got up for the occasion, with ribbons +in evidence and smiles ready for production +on the instant. When the west door opened, and +the awaited hero entered, pale but well groomed, +using his cane in such fashion that he could carry +himself erectly, Elizabeth greeted him with formal +courtesy. Though her manner had the repose +necessary to conceal her sweet agitation, an observant +person might have noticed a deference, a kind +of meekness, that was new in her demeanor towards +men. Peyton, whose mien (though not his feeling) +was a reflex of her own, was relieved at this appearance +of indifference, and hoped it would continue. +His mind being on this, the stately curtsey and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172' name='page_172'></a>172</span> +profuse smirks of Miss Sally were quite lost on +him.</p> +<p>The three breakfasted together in the dining-room, +a large and cheerful apartment whose front +windows, looking on the lawn, were the middle +features of the eastern facade of the house. The +mass of decorative woodwork, and the fireplace in +the north side of the room, added to its impression +of comfort as well as to its beauty. Conversation +at the breakfast was ceremonious and on the most +indifferent subjects, despite the attempts of Miss +Sally, who would have monopolized Peyton’s attention, +to inject a little cordial levity. After breakfast +Elizabeth, to avoid the appearance of distinguishing +the day, took her aunt off for the usual walk, which +she purposely prolonged to unusual length, much to +Miss Sally’s annoyance. Peyton passed the morning +in reading a new play that had made great talk +in London the year before, namely, “The School +for Scandal.” It was one of the new books received +by Colonel Philipse from London, by a recent +English vessel,—plays being, in those days, good +enough to be much read in book form,—and +brought out from town by Elizabeth. The dinner +was, as to the attitude of the participants towards +one another, a repetition of the breakfast. In the +afternoon, Peyton having expressed an intention of +venturing outdoors for a little air, Elizabeth assigned +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173' name='page_173'></a>173</span> +Sam to attend him, and said that, as he had +to traverse the south hall and stairs in going to his +room, he might thereafter put to his own service +the unused south door in leaving and entering the +house. Harry strolled for a few minutes on the +terrace, but his lameness made walking little pleasure, +and he returned to the east parlor, where +Elizabeth sat reading while her aunt was looking +drowsily at the fire. Peyton took a chair at the +right side of the fireplace, and mentally contrasted +his present security with his peril in that place on +a former occasion.</p> +<p>The trampling of horses at a distance elicited +from Elizabeth the words, “The Hessian patrol, on +the Albany road, as usual, I suppose.” But, the +clatter increasing, she arose and looked through +the narrow slit whereby light was admitted between +the almost closed shutters. After a moment she +said, in unconcealed alarm:</p> +<p>“Oh, heaven! ’Tis a party of Lord Cathcart’s +officers! They said at King’s Bridge they’d come +one day to pay their respects. How can I keep +them out?”</p> +<p>Peyton arose, but remained by the fireplace, and +said, “To keep them out, if they think themselves +expected, would excite suspicion. I will go to my +room.”</p> +<p>Elizabeth, meanwhile, had opened the window to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174' name='page_174'></a>174</span> +draw the shutter close; but her trembling movement, +assisted by a passing breeze, and by the +perversity of inanimate things, caused the shutter +to fly wide open.</p> +<p>She turned towards Peyton, with signs of fright +on her face. “Back!” she whispered. “They’ll +see you through the window. Into the closet,—the +closet!” She motioned imperatively towards +the pair of doors immediately beside him, west +of the fireplace. Hearing the horses’ footfalls near +at hand, and perceiving, with her, that he would +not have time to walk safely across the parlor to +the hall, he opened one of the doors indicated by +her, and stepped into the closet.</p> +<p>In the instant before he closed the door after him, +he noticed the stairs descending backward from the +right side of the closet. He foresaw that the British +officers would come into the parlor. If they should +make a long stay, he might have to change his position +during their presence. He might thus cause +sufficient sound to attract attention. He would be +in better case further away. Therefore, using his +stick and feeling the route with his hand, he made +his way down the steps to a landing, turned to the +right, descended more steps, and found himself in +a dark cellar. He had no sooner reached the last +step than a burst of hearty greetings from above +informed him the officers were in the parlor.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175' name='page_175'></a>175</span></div> +<p>This part of the cellar being damp, he set out in +search of a more comfortable spot wherein to bestow +himself the necessary while. Groping his way, and +travelling with great labor, he at last came into a +kind of corridor formed between two rolls of piled-up +barrels. He proceeded along this passage until +it was blocked by a barrel on the ground. On this +he sat down, deciding it as good a staying-place +as he might find. Leaning back, he discovered with +his head what seemed to be a thick wooden partition +close to the barrel. Changing his position, he +bumped his head against an iron something that lay +horizontally against the partition, and so violent was +this collision that the iron something was moved +from its place, a fact which he noted on the instant +but immediately forgot in the sharpness of his pain.</p> +<p>Having at last made himself comfortable, he sat +waiting in the darkness, thinking to let some time +pass before returning to the closet stairway. An +hour or more had gone by, when he heard a door +open, which he knew must be at the head of some +other stairway to the cellar, and a jocund voice cry: +“Damme, we’ll be our own tapsters! Give me the +candle, Mr. Williams, and if my nose doesn’t pull me +to the barrel in one minute, may it never whiff spirits +again!” A moment later, quick footfalls sounded +on the stairs, then candle-light disturbed the blackness, +and Williams was heard saying, “This way, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176' name='page_176'></a>176</span> +gentlemen, if you insist. The barrel is on the +ground, straight ahead.” Whereupon Peyton saw +two merry young Englishmen enter the very passage +at whose end he sat, one bearing the candle, both +followed by the steward, who carried a spigot and a +huge jug.</p> +<p>Harry instantly divined the cause of this intrusion. +The servants were busy preparing refreshments for +the officers, and, in a spirit of gaiety, these two +had volunteered to help Williams fetch the liquor +which he, not knowing Harry’s whereabouts, was +about to draw from the barrel on which Harry sat.</p> +<p>It was not Elizabeth who could save him from +discovery now.</p> +<p>The officers came groping towards him up the +narrow passage.</p> +<p>Before the candle-light reached him, he rose and +got behind the barrel, there being barely room for +his legs between it and the partition. He had, in +dressing for the day, put on his scabbard and his +broken sword. He now took his stick in his left +hand, and drew his sword with his right. He set +his teeth hard together, thought of nothing at all, or +rather of everything at once, and waited.</p> +<p>“Hear the rats,” said one of the Englishmen. It +was Peyton’s stealthy movement he had heard.</p> +<p>“Ay, sir, there’s often a terrible scampering of +’em,” said Williams.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177' name='page_177'></a>177</span></div> +<p>“Maybe I can pink a rat or two,” said the officer +without the candle, and drew his sword. Harry +braced himself rapidly against the woodwork at his +back. The candle-light touched the barrel.</p> +<p>At that instant Harry felt the woodwork give way +behind him, and fell on his back on the ground.</p> +<p>“What’s that?” cried the officer with the candle, +standing still.</p> +<p>“Tis the scampering of the rats, of course,” said +the other.</p> +<p>Harry had apprehended, by this time, that the +supposed wooden partition was in reality a door in +the cellar wall. He now pushed it shut with his +foot, remaining outside of it, then rose, and, feeling +about him, discovered that his present place was in a +narrow arched passage that ran, from the door in +the cellar wall, he knew not how far. Recalling the +bumping of his head, he inferred now that the iron +something was a bolt, and that his blow had forced +it from its too large socket in the stone wall.</p> +<p>He proceeded onward in the dark passage for +some distance, then stopped to listen. No sound +coming from the door he had closed, he decided that +the officers were satisfied the noise had been of the +rats’ making. He sheathed his broken sword, having +retained that and his stick in his fall, and went +forward, hoping to find a habitable place of waiting. +Soon the passage widened into a kind of subterranean +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178' name='page_178'></a>178</span> +room, one side of which admitted light. Going to +this side, Harry stopped short at the verge of a well, +on whose circumference the subterranean chamber +abutted. The light came from the well’s top, which +was about ten feet above the low roof of the underground +room, the passage from the cellar being +on a descent. In this artificial cave were wooden +chests, casks, and covered earthen vessels, these contents +proclaiming the place a secret storage-room +designed for use in siege or in military occupation. +Harry waited here a while that seemed half a day, +then returned through the passage to the door, intending +to return to the cellar. He listened at the +door, found all quiet beyond, and made to push open +the door. It would not move. From the feel of +the resistance, he perceived that the bolt had been +pushed home again—as indeed it had, by the steward, +who had noticed it while tapping the barrel, and +had imputed its being drawn to some former carelessness +of his own.</p> +<p>Peyton, finding himself thus barred into the subterranean +regions, was in a quandary. Any alarm +he might attempt, by shouting or pounding, might +not be heard, or, if heard, might reach some tarrying +British. In due time, Elizabeth would doubtless +have him looked for in the closet and then in the +cellar, but, on his not being found there, would suppose +he had left the cellar by one of the other stairways. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179' name='page_179'></a>179</span> +Thus he could little hope to be sought for +in his prison. Williams might at any time have +occasion to visit the secret storeroom, but, on the +other hand, he might not have such occasion for +weeks. Harry groped back to the cave, and sought +some way of escape by the well, but found none.</p> +<p>He then examined the cave more closely, and +came finally on another passage than that by which +he had entered. He followed this for what seemed +an interminable length. At last, it closed up in +front of him. He tested the barrier of raw earth +with his hands, felt a great round stone projecting +therefrom, pushed this stone in vain, then clasped it +with both arms and pulled. It gave, and presently +fell to the ground at his feet, leaving an aperture +two feet across, which let in light. He crawled the +short length of this, and breathed the open air in a +small thicket on the sloping bank of the Hudson.<a href='#Footnote_0008' class='fnanchor'>[8]</a> +He crept to the thicket’s edge, and saw, in the sunset +light, the river before him; on the river, a +British war-vessel; on the vessel, some naval officers, +one of whom was looking, with languid preoccupation, +straight at the thicket from which Harry +gazed.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180' name='page_180'></a>180</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_IX_THE_CONFESSION' id='CHAPTER_IX_THE_CONFESSION'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER IX.</h2> +<h3>THE CONFESSION.</h3> +</div> +<p class='dropcapq'><small>“</small><span class='drop'>W</span><span class='dcap'>hat</span> d’ye spy, Tom?” called out another officer +on the deck, to the one whose attitude most +interested Harry.</p> +<p>“I thought I made out some kind of craft steering +through the bushes yonder,” was the answer.</p> +<p>“I see nothing.”</p> +<p>“Neither do I, now. ’Twasn’t human craft, anyhow, +so it doesn’t signify,” and the officers looked +elsewhere.</p> +<p>Harry lay low in the thicket, awaiting the departure +of the vessel or the arrival of darkness. On +the deck there was no sign of weighing anchor. +As night came, the vessel’s lights were slung. The +sky was partly clear in the west, and stars appeared +in that direction, but the east was overcast, +so that the rising moon was hid. The atmosphere +grew colder.</p> +<p>When Harry could make out nothing of the vessel +on the dark water, save the lights that glowed like +low-placed stars, he crawled from the bushes and up +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181' name='page_181'></a>181</span> +the bank to the terrace. He then rose and proceeded, +with the aid of his stick, aching from having +so long maintained a cramped position, and from the +suddenly increased cold. Before him, as he continued +to ascend, rose the house, darkness outlined +against darkness. No sound came from it, no window +was lighted. This meant that the British +officers had left, for their presence would have been +marked by plenitude of light and by noise of merriment. +Harry stopped on the terrace, and stood in +doubt how to proceed. What had been thought of +his disappearance? Where would he be supposed +to have gone? Had provision been made for his +possible return? Perhaps he should find a guiding +light in some window on the other side of the house; +perhaps a servant remained alert for his knock on +the door. His only course was to investigate, unless +he would undergo a night of much discomfort.</p> +<p>As he was about to approach the house, he was +checked by a sight so vaguely outlined that it might +be rather of his imagination than of reality, and +which added a momentary shiver of a keener sort +than he already underwent from the weather. A +dark cloaked and hooded figure stood by the balustrade +that ran along the roof-top. As Peyton looked, +his hand involuntarily clasping his sword-hilt, and the +stories of the ghosts that haunted this old mansion +shot through his mind, the figure seemed to descend +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182' name='page_182'></a>182</span> +through the very roof, as a stage ghost is lowered +through a trap. He continued to stare at the spot +where it had stood, but nothing reappeared against +the backing of black cloud. Wondering much, Harry +presently went on towards the house, turned the +southwest corner, and skirted the south front as +far as to the little porch in its middle. Intending +to reconnoitre all sides of the house before he should +try one of the doors, he was passing on, after a +glance at the south door lost in the blacker shadows +of the porch, when suddenly the fan-window over +the door seemed to glow dimly with a wavering light. +He placed his hand on one of the Grecian pillars of +the porch, and watched. A moment later the door +softly opened. A figure appeared, beyond the threshold, +bearing a candle. The figure wore a cloak with +a hood, but the hood was down.</p> +<p>“All is safe,” whispered a low voice. “The officers +went hours ago. I knew you must have escaped +from the house, and were hiding somewhere. I saw +you a minute ago from the roof gallery.”</p> +<p>Peyton having entered, Elizabeth swiftly closed +and locked the door behind him, handed him the +candle with a low “Good night,” and fled silently, +ghostlike, up the stairs, disappearing quickly in the +darkness.</p> +<p>Harry made his way to his own room, as in a kind +of dream. She herself had waited and watched for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183' name='page_183'></a>183</span> +him! This, then, was the effect wrought in the +proudest, most disdainful young creature of her sex, +by that feeling which he had, by telling and acting +a lie, awakened in her. The revelation set him +thinking. How long might such a feeling last? +What would be its effect on her after his departure? +He had read, and heard, and seen, that, when these +feelings were left to pine away slowly, the people +possessing them pined also. And this was the return +he was about to give his most hospitable hostess, the +woman who had saved his life! Yet what was to be +done? His life belonged to his country, his chosen +career was war; he could not alter completely his +destiny to save a woman some pining. After all, she +<i>would</i> get over it; yet it would make of her another +woman, embitter her, change entirely the complexion +of the world to her, and her own attitude towards it. +He tried to comfort himself with the thought of her +engagement to Colden, of which he had not learned +until after the mischief had been done. But he recalled +her manner towards Colden, and a remark of +old Mr. Valentine’s, whence he knew that the engagement +was not, on her side, a love one, and was not +inviolable. Yet it would be a crime to a woman of +her pride, of her power of loving, to allow the deceit, +his pretence of love, to go as far as marriage. A disclosure +would come in time, and would bring her +a bitter awakening. The falsehood, natural if not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184' name='page_184'></a>184</span> +excusable in its circumstances, and broached without +thought of ultimate consequence, must be stopped at +once. He must leave her presence immediately, but, +before going, must declare the truth. She must not +be allowed to waste another day of her life on an +illusion. Aside from the effect on her heart, of the +continuance of the delusion, it would doubtless affect +her outward circumstances, by leading her to break +her engagement with Colden. An immediate discovery +of the truth, moreover, by creating such a +revulsion of feeling as would make her hate him, +would leave her heart in a state for speedy healing. +This disclosure would be a devilishly unpleasant +thing to make, but a soldier and a gentleman must +meet unpleasant duties unflinchingly.</p> +<p>He lay a long time awake, disturbed by thoughts +of the task before him. When he did sleep, it was +to dream that the task was in progress, then that it +was finished but had to be begun anew, then that +countless obstacles arose in succession to hinder +him in it. Dawn found him little refreshed in mind, +but none the worse in body. He found, on arising, +that he could walk without aid from the stick, and +he required no help in dressing himself. Looking +towards the river, he saw the British vessel heading +for New York. But that sight gave him little comfort, +thanks to the ordeal before him, in contemplating +which he neglected to put on his sword +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185' name='page_185'></a>185</span> +and scabbard, and so descended to breakfast without +them.</p> +<p>That meal offered no opportunity for the disclosure, +the aunt being present throughout. Immediately +after breakfast, the two ladies went for +their customary walk. While they were breasting +the wind, between two rows of box in the garden, +Miss Sally spoke of Major Colden’s intention to +return for Elizabeth at the end of a week, and said, +“’Twill be a week this evening since you arrived. +Is he to come for you to-day or to-morrow?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know,” said Elizabeth, shortly.</p> +<p>“But, my dear, you haven’t prepared—”</p> +<p>“I sha’n’t go back to-day, that is certain. If +Colden comes before to-morrow, he can wait for +me,—or I may send him back without me, and +stay as long as I wish.”</p> +<p>“But he will meet Captain Peyton—”</p> +<p>“It can be easily arranged to keep him from +knowing Captain Peyton is here. I shall look to +that.”</p> +<p>Miss Sally sighed at the futility of her inquisitorial +fishing. Not knowing Elizabeth’s reason for saving +the rebel captain, she had once or twice thought +that the girl, in some inscrutable whim, intended to +deliver him up, after all. She had tried frequently +to fathom her niece’s purposes, but had never got +any satisfaction.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186' name='page_186'></a>186</span></div> +<p>“I suppose,” she went on, desperately, “if you go +back to town, you will leave the captain in Williams’s +charge.”</p> +<p>“If I go back before the captain leaves,” said +Elizabeth, thereby dashing her amiable aunt’s secretly +cherished hope of affording the wounded +officer the pleasure of her own unalloyed society.</p> +<p>Elizabeth really did not know what she would do. +Her actions, on Colden’s return, would depend on +the prior actions of the captain. No one had spoken +to Peyton of her intention to leave after a week’s +stay. She had thought such an announcement to +him from her might seem to imply a hint that it was +time he should resume his wooing. That he would +resume it, in due course, she took for granted. +Measuring his supposed feelings by her own real +ones, she assumed that her loveless betrothal to +another would not deter Peyton’s further courtship. +She believed he had divined the nature of that betrothal. +Nor would he be hindered by the prospect +of their being parted some while by the war. Engagements +were broken, wars did not last forever, +those who loved each other found ways to meet. +So he would surely speak, before their parting, of +what, since it filled her heart, must of course fill +his. But she would show no forwardness in the +matter. She therefore avoided him till dinner-time.</p> +<p>At the table he abruptly announced that, as duty +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187' name='page_187'></a>187</span> +required he should rejoin the army at the first +moment possible, and as he now felt capable of +making the journey, he would depart that night.</p> +<p>Miss Sally hid her startled emotions behind a +glass of madeira, into which she coughed, chokingly. +Molly, the maid, stopped short in her passage from +the kitchen door to the table, and nearly dropped +the pudding she was carrying. Elizabeth concealed +her feelings, and told herself that his declaration +must soon be forthcoming. She left it to him to +contrive the necessary private interview.</p> +<p>After dinner, he sat with the ladies before the +fire in the east parlor, awaiting his opportunity +with much hidden perturbation. Elizabeth feigned +to read. At last, habit prevailing, her aunt fell +asleep. Peyton hummed and hemmed, looked into +the fire, made two or three strenuous swallows of +nothing, and opened his mouth to speak. At that +instant old Mr. Valentine came in, newly arrived +from the Hill, and “whew”-ing at the cold. Peyton +felt like one for whom a brief reprieve had been sent +by heaven.</p> +<p>All afternoon Mr. Valentine chattered of weather +and news and old times. Peyton’s feeling of relief +was short-lasting; it was supplanted by a mighty +regret that he had not been permitted to get the +thing over. No second opportunity came of itself, +nor could Peyton, who found his ingenuity for once +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188' name='page_188'></a>188</span> +quite paralyzed, force one. Supper was announced, +and was partaken of by Harry, in fidgety abstraction; +by Elizabeth, in expectant but outwardly placid +silence; by Miss Sally, in futile smiling attempts +to make something out of her last conversational +chances with the handsome officer; and by Mr. +Valentine, in sedulous attention to his appetite, which +still had the vigor of youth.</p> +<p>Almost as soon as the ladies had gone from the +dining-room, Peyton rose and left the octogenarian +in sole possession. In the parlor Harry found no +one but Molly, who was lighting the candles.</p> +<p>“What, Molly?” said he, feeling more and more +nervous, and thinking to retain, by constant use of +his voice, a good command of it for the dreaded +interview. “The ladies not here? They left Mr. +Valentine and me at the supper-table.”</p> +<p>“They are walking in the garden, sir. Miss Elizabeth +likes to take the air every evening.”</p> +<p>“’Tis a chill air she takes this evening, I’m +thinking,” he said, standing before the fire and holding +out his hands over the crackling logs.</p> +<p>“A chill night for your journey,” replied Molly. +“I should think you’d wait for day, to travel.”</p> +<p>Peyton, unobservant of the wistful sigh by which +the maid’s speech was accompanied, replied, “Nay, +for me, ’tis safest travelling at night. I must go +through dangerous country to reach our lines.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189' name='page_189'></a>189</span></div> +<p>“It mayn’t be as cold to-morrow night,” persisted +Molly.</p> +<p>“My wound is well enough for me to go now.”</p> +<p>“’Twill be better still to-morrow.”</p> +<p>But Peyton, deep in his own preoccupation, +neither deduced aught from the drift of her remarks +nor saw the tender glances which attended them. +While he was making some insignificant answer, the +maid, in moving the candelabrum on the spinet, accidentally +brushed therefrom his hat, which had been +lying on it. She picked it up, in great confusion, +and asked his pardon.</p> +<p>“’Twas my fault in laying it there,” said he, +receiving it from her. “I’m careless with my +things. I make no doubt, since I’ve been here, I’ve +more than once given your mistress cause to wish +me elsewhere.”</p> +<p>“La, sir,” said Molly, “I don’t think—<i>any</i> one +would wish you elsewhere!” Whereupon she left the +room, abashed at her own audacity.</p> +<p>“The devil!” thought Peyton. “I should feel +better if some one did wish me elsewhere.”</p> +<p>As he continued gazing into the fire, and his task +loomed more and more disagreeably before him, he +suddenly bethought him that Elizabeth, in taking her +evening walk, showed no disposition for a private +meeting. Dwelling on that one circumstance, he +thought for awhile he might have been wrong in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190' name='page_190'></a>190</span> +supposing she loved him. But then the previous +night’s incident recurred to his mind. Nothing +short of love could have induced such solicitude. +But, then, as she sought no last interview, might he +not be warranted in going away and leaving the disclosure +to come gradually, implied by the absence +of further word from him? Yet, she might be purposely +avoiding the appearance of seeking an interview. +The reasons calling for a prompt confession +came back to him. While he was wavering between +one dictate and another, in came Mr. Valentine, with +a tobacco pipe.</p> +<p>Like an inspiration, rose the idea of consulting the +octogenarian. A man who cannot make up his own +mind is justified in seeking counsel. Elizabeth could +suffer no harm through Peyton’s confiding in this +sage old man, who was devoted to her and to her +family. Mr. Valentine’s very words on entering, +which alluded to Peyton’s pleasant visit as Elizabeth’s +guest, gave an opening for the subject concerned. +A very few speeches led up to the matter, +which Harry broached, after announcing that he took +the old man for one experienced in matters of the +heart, and receiving the admission that the old man +<i>had</i> enjoyed a share of the smiles of the sex. But +if the captain had thought, in seeking advice, to find +reason for avoiding his ugly task, he was disappointed. +Old Valentine, though he had for some +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191' name='page_191'></a>191</span> +days feared a possible state of things between the +captain and Miss Sally, had observed Elizabeth, and +his vast experience had enabled him to interpret +symptoms to which others had been blind. “She +has acted towards you,” he said to Peyton, “as she +never acted towards another man. She’s shown you +a meekness, sir, a kind of timidity.” And he agreed +that, if Peyton should go away without an explanation, +it would make her throw aside other expectations, +and would, in the end, “cut her to the heart.” +Valentine hinted at regrettable things that had ensued +from a jilting of which himself had once +been guilty, and urged on Peyton an immediate +unbosoming, adding, “She’ll be so took aback and +so full of wrath at you, she won’t mind the loss of +you. She’ll abominate you and get over it at once.”</p> +<p>The idea came to Peyton of making the confession +by letter, but this he promptly rejected as a coward’s +dodge. “It’s a damned unpleasant duty, but that’s +the more reason I should face it myself.”</p> +<p>At that moment the front door of the east hall +was heard to open.</p> +<p>“It’s Miss Elizabeth and her aunt,” said Valentine, +listening at the door.</p> +<p>“Then I’ll have the thing over at once, and be +gone! Mr. Valentine, a last kindness,—keep the +aunt out of the room.”</p> +<p>Before Valentine could answer, the ladies entered, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192' name='page_192'></a>192</span> +their cheeks reddened by the weather. Elizabeth +carried a small bunch of belated autumn flowers.</p> +<p>“Well, I’m glad to come in out of the cold!” +burst out Miss Sally, with a retrospective shudder. +“Mr. Peyton, you’ve a bitter night for your going.” +She stood before the fire and smiled sympathetically +at the captain.</p> +<p>But Peyton was heedful of none but Elizabeth, +who had laid her flowers on the spinet and was +taking off her cloak. Peyton quickly, with an “Allow +me, Miss Philipse,” relieved her of the wrap, which +in his abstraction he retained over his left arm while +he continued to hold his hat in his other hand. +After receiving a word of thanks, he added, “You’ve +been gathering flowers,” and stood before her in +much embarrassment.</p> +<p>“The last of the year, I think,” said she. “The +wind would have torn them off, if aunt Sally and I +had not.” And she took them up from the spinet +to breath their odor.</p> +<p>Meanwhile Mr. Valentine had been whispering +to Miss Sally at the fireplace. As a result of his +communications, whatever they were, the aunt first +looked doubtful, then cast a wistful glance at Peyton, +and then quietly left the room, followed by the +old man, who carefully closed the door after him.</p> +<p>While Elizabeth held the flowers to her nostrils, +Peyton continued to stand looking at her, during an +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193' name='page_193'></a>193</span> +awkward pause. At length she replaced the nosegay +on the spinet, and went to the fireplace, where she +gazed at the writhing flames, and waited for him to +speak.</p> +<p>Still laden with the cloak and hat, he desperately +began:</p> +<p>“Miss Philipse, I—ahem—before I start on my +walk to-night—”</p> +<p>“Your walk?” she said, in slight surprise.</p> +<p>“Yes,—back to our lines, above.”</p> +<p>“But you are not going to <i>walk</i> back,” she said, +in a low tone. “You are to have the horse, Cato.”</p> +<p>Peyton stood startled. In a few moments he +gulped down his feelings, and stammered:</p> +<p>“Oh—indeed—Miss Philipse—I cannot think of +depriving you—especially after the circumstances.”</p> +<p>She replied, with a gentle smile:</p> +<p>“You took the horse when I refused him to you. +Now will you not have him when I offer him to you? +You must, captain! I’ll not have so fine a horse go +begging for a master. I’ll not hear of your walking. +On such a night, such a distance, through such a +country!”</p> +<p>“The devil!” thought Harry. “This makes it +ten times harder!”</p> +<p>Elizabeth now turned to face him directly. “Does +not my cloak incommode you?” she said, amusedly. +“You may put it down.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194' name='page_194'></a>194</span></div> +<p>“Oh, thank you, yes!” he said, feeling very red, +and went to lay the cloak on the table, but in his +confusion put down his own hat there, and kept the +cloak over his arm. He then met her look recklessly, +and blurted out:</p> +<p>“The truth is, Miss Philipse, now that I am soon +to leave, I have something to—to say to you.” His +boldness here forsook him, and he paused.</p> +<p>“I know it,” said Elizabeth, serenely, repressing +all outward sign of her heart’s blissful agitation.</p> +<p>“You do?” quoth he, astonished.</p> +<p>“Certainly,” she answered, simply. “How could +you leave without saying it?”</p> +<p>Peyton had a moment’s puzzlement. Then, “Without +saying what?” he asked.</p> +<p>“What you have to say,” she replied, blushing, +and lowering her eyes.</p> +<p>“But what have I to say?” he persisted.</p> +<p>She was silent a moment, then saw that she must +help him out.</p> +<p>“Don’t you know? You were not at all tongue-tied +when you said it the evening you came here.”</p> +<p>Peyton felt a gulf opening before him. “Good +heaven,” thought he, “she actually believes I am +about to propose!”</p> +<p>Now, or never, was the time for the plunge. He +drew a full breath, and braced himself to make it.</p> +<p>“But—ah—you see,” said he, “the trouble is,—what +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195' name='page_195'></a>195</span> +I said then is not what I have to say now. +You must understand, Miss Philipse, that I am +devoted to a soldier’s career. All my time, all my +heart, my very life, belong to the service. Thus I +am, in a manner, bound no less on my side, than +you—I beg your pardon—”</p> +<p>“What do you mean?” She spoke quietly, yet +was the picture of open-eyed astonishment.</p> +<p>“Cannot you see?” he faltered.</p> +<p>“You mean”—her tone acquired resentment as +her words came—“that I, too, am bound on <i>my</i> +side,—to Mr. Colden?”</p> +<p>“I did not say so,” he replied, abashed, cursing +his heedless tongue. He would not, for much, have +reminded her of any duty on her part.</p> +<p>She regarded him for a moment in silence, while +the clouds of indignation gathered. Then the storm +broke.</p> +<p>“You poltroon, I <i>do</i> see! You wish to take back +your declaration, because you are afraid of Colden’s +vengeance!”</p> +<p>“Afraid? I afraid?” he echoed, mildly, surprised +almost out of his voice at this unexpected inference.</p> +<p>“Yes, you craven!” she cried, and seemed to +tower above her common height, as she stood erect, +tearless, fiery-eyed, and clarion-voiced. “Your cowardice +outweighs your love! Go from my sight and +from my father’s house, you cautious lover, with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196' name='page_196'></a>196</span> +your prudent scruples about the rights of your rival! +Heavens, that I should have listened to such a coward! +Go, I say! Spend no more time under this +roof than you need to get your belongings from +your room. Don’t stop for farewells! Nobody +wants them! Go,—and I’ll thank you to leave my +cloak behind you!”</p> +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_6' id='linki_6'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/i004.jpg' alt='' title='' width='325' height='500' /><br /> +<p class='caption'> +“‘GO, I SAY!’”<br /> +</p> +</div> +<p>Silenced and confounded by the force of her denunciation, +he stupidly dropped the cloak to the +floor where he stood, and stumbled from the room, +as if swept away by the torrent of her wrath and +scorn.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197' name='page_197'></a>197</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_X_THE_PLAN_OF_RETALIATION' id='CHAPTER_X_THE_PLAN_OF_RETALIATION'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER X.</h2> +<h3>THE PLAN OF RETALIATION.</h3> +</div> +<p class='dropcap'><span class='dcap'>It</span> was in the south hall that he found himself, +having fled through the west door of the parlor, forgetful +that his hat still remained on the table. He +naturally continued his retreat up the stairs to his +chamber. The only belongings that he had to get +there were his broken sword, his scabbard, and belt. +These he promptly buckled on, resolved to leave the +house forthwith.</p> +<p>Still tingling from the blow of her words, he yet +felt a great relief that the task was so soon over, +and that her speedy action had spared him the labor +of the long explanation he had thought to make. +As matters stood, they could not be improved. Her +love had turned to hate, in the twinkling of an eye.</p> +<p>And yet, how preposterously she had accounted +for his conduct! Dwelling on his hint, though it +was checked at its utterance, that she was already +bound, she had assumed that he held out her engagement +to Colden as a barrier to their love. And +she believed, or pretended to believe, that his regard +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198' name='page_198'></a>198</span> +for that barrier arose from fear of inviting a rival’s +vengeance! As if he, who daily risked his life, +could fear the vengeance of a man whom he had +already once defeated with the sword! It was like +a woman to alight first on the most absurd possibility +the situation could imply. And if she knew the +conjecture was absurd, she was the more guilty of +affront in crying it out against him. He, in turn, +was now moved to anger. He would not have false +motives imputed to him. It would be useless to +talk to her while her present mood continued. But +he could write, and leave the letter where it would +be found. Inasmuch as he had faced the worst +storm his disclosure could have aroused, there was +no cowardice in resorting to a letter with such explanations +as could not be brought to her mind in any +other form. Two days previously, he had requested +writing materials in his room, for the sketching of +a report of his being wounded, and these were still +on a table by the window. He lighted candles, and +sat down to write.</p> +<p>When he had finished his document, sealed and +addressed it, he laid it on the table, where it would +attract the eye of a servant, and looked around for +his hat. Presently he recalled that he had left it in +the parlor. He first thought of seeking a servant, +and sending for it, lest he might meet Elizabeth, +should he again enter the parlor. But it would be +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199' name='page_199'></a>199</span> +better to face her, for a moment, than to give an +order to a servant of a house whence he had been +ordered out. And now, as he intended to go into +the parlor, he would preferably leave the letter in +that room, where it would perhaps reach her own +eyes before any other’s could fall on it. He therefore +took up the letter, thrust it for the time in his belt, +descended quietly to the south hall, cautiously opened +the parlor door, peeped through the crack, saw with +relief that only Miss Sally was in the room, threw +the door wide, and strode quickly towards the table +on which he thought he had left his hat.</p> +<p>But, as he approached, he saw that the hat was +not there.</p> +<p>In the meantime, during the few minutes he had +spent in his room, things had been occurring in this +parlor. As soon as Peyton had left it, or had been +carried out of it by the resistless current of Elizabeth’s +invective, the girl had turned her anger on +herself, for having weakened to this man, made him +her hero, indulged in those dreams! She could +scarcely contain herself. Having mechanically picked +up her cloak, where Peyton had let it fall, she evinced +a sudden unendurable sense of her humiliation and +folly, by hurling the cloak with violence across the +room. At that moment old Mr. Valentine entered, +placidly seeking his pipe, which he had left behind +him.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200' name='page_200'></a>200</span></div> +<p>The octogenarian looked surprisedly at the cloak, +then at Elizabeth, then mildly asked her if she had +seen his pipe.</p> +<p>“Oh, the cowardly wretch!” was Elizabeth’s +answer, her feelings forcing a release in speech.</p> +<p>“What, me?” asked the old man, startled, not +yet having thought to connect her words with his +last interview with the American officer. He looked +at her for a moment, but, receiving no satisfaction, +calmly refilled, from a leather pouch, his pipe, which +he had found on the mantel.</p> +<p>Elizabeth’s thoughts began to take more distinct +shape, and, in order to formulate them the more +accurately, she spoke them aloud to the old man, +finding it an assistance to have a hearer, though she +supposed him unable to understand.</p> +<p>“Yet he wasn’t a coward that evening he rode to +attack the Hessians,—nor when he was wounded,—nor +when he stood here waiting to be taken! He +was no coward then, was he, Mr. Valentine?” Getting +no answer, and irritated at the old man’s owl-like +immovability, she repeated, with vehemence, +“Was he?”</p> +<p>Mr. Valentine had, by this time, begun to put +things together in his mind.</p> +<p>“No. To be sure,” he chirped, and then lighted +his pipe with a small fagot from the fireplace, an +operation that required a good deal of time.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201' name='page_201'></a>201</span></div> +<p>Elizabeth now spoke more as if to herself. “Perhaps, +after all, I may be wrong! Yes, what a fool, +to forget all the proofs of his courage! What a blind +imbecile, to think him afraid! It must be that +he acts from a delicate conception of honor. He +would not encroach where another had the prior +claim. He considers Colden in the matter. That’s +it, don’t you think?”</p> +<p>“Of course,” said Valentine, blindly, not having +paid attention to this last speech, and sitting down +in his armchair.</p> +<p>“I can understand now,” she went on. “He did +not know of my engagement that time he made love, +when his life was at stake.”</p> +<p>“Then he’s told you all about it?” said the old +man, beginning to take some interest, now that he +had provided for his own comfort.</p> +<p>“About what?” asked Elizabeth, showing a +woman’s consistency, in being surprised that he +seemed to know what she had been addressing +him about.</p> +<p>“About pretending he loved you,—to save his +life,” replied Mr. Valentine, innocently, considering +that her supposed acquaintance with the +whole secret made him free to discuss it with +her.</p> +<p>Elizabeth’s astonishment, unexpected as it was by +him, surprised the old man in turn, and also gave +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202' name='page_202'></a>202</span> +him something of a fright. So the two stared at +each other.</p> +<p>“Pretending he loved me!” she repeated, reflectively. +“Pretending! To save his life! <i>Now I +see!</i>” The effect of the revelation on her almost +made Mr. Valentine jump out of his chair. “For +only <i>I</i> could save him!” she went on. “There was +no other way! Oh, <i>how</i> I have been fooled! I—tricked +by a miserable rebel! Made a laughing-stock! +Oh, to think he did not really love me, and +that I—Oh, I shall choke! Send some one to +me,—Molly, aunt Sally, any one! Go! Don’t sit +there gazing at me like an owl! Go away and send +some one!”</p> +<p>Mr. Valentine, glad of reason for an honorable +retreat from this whirlwind that threatened soon to +fill the whole room, departed with as much activity +as he could command.</p> +<p>“Oh, what shall I do? What shall I do?” +Elizabeth asked of the air around her. “I must +repay him for his duplicity. I shall never rest a +moment till I do! What an easy dupe he must +think me! Oh-h-h!”</p> +<p>She brought her hand violently down on the +table but fortunately struck something comparatively +soft. In her fury, she clutched this something, +raised it from the table, and saw what it +was.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203' name='page_203'></a>203</span></div> +<p>“<i>His</i> hat!” she cried, and made to throw it into +the fire, but, with a woman’s aim, sent it flying +towards the door, which was at that instant opened +by her aunt, who saved herself by dodging most +undignifiedly.</p> +<p>“What is it, my dear?” asked Miss Sally, in a +voice of mingled wonderment and fear.</p> +<p>“I’ll pay him back, be sure of that!” replied +Elizabeth, who was by this time a blazing-eyed, +scarlet-faced embodiment of fury, and had thrown +off all reserve.</p> +<p>“Pay whom back?” tremblingly inquired Miss +Sally, with vague apprehensions for the safety of +old Mr. Valentine, who had so recently left her +niece.</p> +<p>“Your charming captain, your gentleman rebel, +your gallant soldier, your admirable Peyton, hang +him!” cried Elizabeth.</p> +<p>“<i>My</i> Peyton? I only wish he was!” sighed the +aunt, surprised into the confession by Elizabeth’s +own outspokenness.</p> +<p>“You’re welcome to him, when I’ve had my revenge +on him! Oh, aunt Sally, to think of it! +He doesn’t love me! He only pretended, so that +I would save his life! But he shall see! I’ll deliver +him up to the troops, after all!”</p> +<p>“Oh, no!” said Miss Sally, deprecatingly. Great +as was the news conveyed to her by Elizabeth’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204' name='page_204'></a>204</span> +speech, she comprehended it, and adjusted her +mind to it, in an instant, her absence of outward +demonstration being due to the very bigness of the +revelation, to which any possible outside show of +surprise would be inadequate and hence useless. +Moreover, Elizabeth gave no time for manifestations.</p> +<p>“No,” the girl went on. “You are right. He’s +able-bodied now, and might be a match for all the +servants. Besides, ’twould come out why I shielded +him, and I should be the laugh o’ the town. Oh, +<i>how</i> shall I pay him? How shall I make him <i>feel</i>—ah! +I know! I’ll give him six for half a dozen! +I’ll make <i>him</i> love <i>me</i>, and then I’ll cast him off and +laugh at him!”</p> +<p>She was suddenly as jubilant at having hit on the +project as if she had already accomplished it.</p> +<p>“Make him love you?” repeated her aunt, dubiously. +Her aunt had her own reasons for doubting +the possibility of such an achievement.</p> +<p>“Perhaps you think I can’t!” cried Elizabeth. +“Wait and see! But, heavens! He’s going away,—he +won’t come back,—perhaps he’s gone! No, +there’s his hat!” She ran and picked it up from +the corner of the doorway. “He won’t go without +his hat. He’ll have to come here for it. He went +to his room for his sword. He’ll be here at any +moment.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205' name='page_205'></a>205</span></div> +<p>And she paced the floor, holding the hat in one +hand, and lapsing to the level of ordinary femininity +as far as to adjust her hair with the other.</p> +<p>“You’ll have to make quick work of it, Elizabeth, +dear,” said the aunt, with gentle irony, “if he’s going +to-night.”</p> +<p>“I know, I know,—but I can’t do it looking like +this.” She laid the hat on the table, in order to +employ both hands in the arrangement of her hair. +“If I only had on my satin gown! By the lord +Harry, I have a mind—I will! When he comes in +here, keep him till I return. Keep him as if your +life depended on it.” She went quickly towards the +door of the east hall.</p> +<p>“But, Elizabeth!” cried Miss Sally, appalled. +“Wait! How—”</p> +<p>“How?” echoed Elizabeth, turning near the door. +“By hook or crook! You must think of a way! I +have other things on my mind. Only keep him till +I come back. If you let him go, I’ll never speak to +you again! And not a word to him of what I’ve +told you! I sha’n’t be long.”</p> +<p>“But what are you going to do?” asked the +aunt, despairingly.</p> +<p>“Going to arm myself for conquest! To put on +my war-paint!” And the girl hastened through the +doorway, crossed the hall, called Molly, and ran up-stairs +to her room.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206' name='page_206'></a>206</span></div> +<p>Miss Sally stood in the parlor, a prey to mingled +feelings. She did not dare refuse the task thrown +on her by her imperative niece. Not only her +niece’s anger would be incurred by the refusal, but +also the niece’s insinuations that the aunt was not +sufficiently clever for the task. However difficult, +the thing must be attempted. And, which made +matters worse, even if the attempt should succeed, +it would be a rewardless one to Miss Sally. If +she might detain the captain for herself, the effort +would be worth making. The aunt sighed deeply, +shook her head distressfully, and then, reverting +to a keen sense of Elizabeth’s rage and ridicule in +the event of failure, looked wildly around for some +suggestion of means to hold the officer. Her eye +alighted on the hat.</p> +<p>“He won’t go without his hat, a night like this!” +she thought. “I’ll hide his hat.”</p> +<p>She forthwith possessed herself of it, and explored +the room for a hiding-place. She decided on one +of the little narrow closets in either side of the doorway +to the east hall, and started towards it, holding +the hat at her right side. Before she had come +within four feet of the chosen place, she heard the +door from the south hall being thrown open, and, +casting a swift glance over her left shoulder, saw the +captain step across the threshold. She choked back +her sensations, and gave inward thanks that the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207' name='page_207'></a>207</span> +hat was hidden from his sight by herself. Peyton +walked briskly towards the table.</p> +<p>Suddenly he stopped short, and turned his eyes +from the table to Miss Sally, whose back was +towards him.</p> +<p>“Ah, Miss Williams,” said he, politely but hastily, +“I left my hat here somewhere.”</p> +<p>“Indeed?” said Miss Sally, amazed at her own +unconsciousness, while she tried to moderate the +beating of her heart. At the same moment, she +turned and faced him, bringing the hat around +behind her so that it should remain unseen.</p> +<p>Peyton looked from her to the spinet, thence to +the sofa, thence back to the table.</p> +<p>“Yes, on the table, I thought. Perhaps—” +He broke off here, and went to look on the +mantel.</p> +<p>Miss Sally, who had never thought the captain +handsomer, and who smarted under the sense of being +deterred, by her niece’s purpose, from employing +this opportunity to fascinate him on her own account, +continued to turn so as to face him in his every +change of place.</p> +<p>“I don’t see it anywhere,” she said, with childlike +innocence.</p> +<p>Peyton searched the mantel, then looked at the +chairs, and again brought his eyes to bear on Miss +Sally. She blinked once or twice, but did not quail.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208' name='page_208'></a>208</span></div> +<p>“’Tis strange!” he said. “I’m sure I left it in +this room.”</p> +<p>And he went again over all the ground he had +already examined. Miss Sally utilized the times +when his back was turned, in making a search of her +own, the object of which was a safe place where she +could quickly deposit the hat without attracting his +attention.</p> +<p>Peyton was doubly annoyed at this enforced delay +in his departure, since Elizabeth might come into +the parlor at any time, and the meeting occur which +he had, for a moment, hoped to avoid.</p> +<p>“Would you mind helping me look for it?” said +he. “I’m in great haste to be gone. Do me the +kindness, madam, will you not?”</p> +<p>“Why, yes, with pleasure,” she answered, thinking +bitterly how transported she would be, in other +circumstances, at such an opportunity of showing her +readiness to oblige him.</p> +<p>Her aid consisted in following him about, looking +in each place where he had looked the moment before, +and keeping the sought-for object close behind +her.</p> +<p>Suddenly he turned about, with such swiftness +that she almost came into collision with him.</p> +<p>“It must have fallen to the floor,” said he.</p> +<p>“Why, yes, we never thought of looking there, +did we?” And she followed him through another +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209' name='page_209'></a>209</span> +tour of the room, turning her averted head from side +to side in pretendedly ranging the floor with her +eyes.</p> +<p>“I know,” he said, with the elation of a new conjecture. +“It must be behind something!”</p> +<p>Miss Sally gasped, but in an instant recovered +herself sufficiently to say:</p> +<p>“Of course. It surely <i>must</i> be—behind something.”</p> +<p>Harry went and looked behind the spinet, then +examined the small spaces between other objects and +the wall. This search was longer than any he had +made before, as some of the pieces of furniture +had to be moved slightly out of position.</p> +<p>Miss Sally felt her proximity to the object of +this search becoming unendurable. She therefore +profited by Peyton’s present occupation to conduct +pretended endeavors towards the closet west of +the fireplace. She noiselessly opened one of the +narrow doors, quickly tossed the hat inside, closed +the door, and turned with ineffable relief towards +Peyton.</p> +<p>To her consternation she found him looking at +her.</p> +<p>“What are you doing there?” he asked.</p> +<p>“Why,—looking in this closet,” she stammered, +guiltily.</p> +<p>“Oh, no, it couldn’t be in there,” said Peyton, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210' name='page_210'></a>210</span> +lightly. “But, yes. One of the servants might +have laid it on the shelf.” And he made for the +closet.</p> +<p>“Oh, no!”</p> +<p>Miss Sally stood against the closet doors and held +out her hands to ward him off.</p> +<p>“No harm to look,” said he, passing around her +and putting his hand on the door.</p> +<p>Miss Sally felt that, by remaining in the position +of a physical obstacle to his opening the closet, she +would betray all. Acting on the inspiration of the +instant, she ran to the centre of the room, and +cried:</p> +<p>“Oh, come away! Come here!” and essayed a +well-meant, but feeble and abortive, scream.</p> +<p>“What’s the matter?” asked Peyton, astonished.</p> +<p>“Oh, I’m going to faint!” she said, feigning +a sinkiness of the knees and a floppiness of the +head.</p> +<p>“Oh, pray don’t faint!” cried Peyton, running to +support her. “I haven’t time. Let me call some +one. Let me help you to the sofa.”</p> +<p>By this time he held her in his arms, and was +thinking her another sort of burden than Tom +Jones found Sophia, or Clarissa was to Roderick +Random.</p> +<p>The lady shrank with becoming and genuine +modesty from the contact, gently repelled him with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211' name='page_211'></a>211</span> +her hands, saying, “No, I’m better now,—but +come,” and took him by the arm to lead him +further from the fatal closet.</p> +<p>But Peyton immediately released his arm.</p> +<p>“Ah, thank you for not fainting!” he said, with +complete sincerity, and stalked directly back to the +closet. Before she could think of a new device, he +had opened the door, beheld the hat, and seized it in +triumph. “By George, I was right! I bid you +farewell, Miss Williams!” He very civilly saluted +her with the hat, and turned towards the west door +of the parlor.</p> +<p>Must, then, all her previous ingenuity be wasted? +After having so far exerted herself, must she suffer +the ignominious consequences of failure?</p> +<p>She ran to intercept him. Desperation gave her +speed, and she reached the west door before he +did. She closed it with a bang, and stood with +her back against it. “No, no!” she cried. “You +mustn’t!”</p> +<p>“Mustn’t what?” asked Peyton, surprised as +much by her distracted eyes, panting nostrils, and +heaving bosom, as by her act itself.</p> +<p>“Mustn’t go out this way. Mustn’t open this +door,” she answered, wildly.</p> +<p>He scrutinized her features, as if to test a sudden +suspicion of madness. In a moment he threw off +this conjecture as unlikely.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212' name='page_212'></a>212</span></div> +<p>“But,” said he, putting forth his hand to grasp +the knob of the door.</p> +<p>“You mustn’t, I say!” she cried. “I can’t help +it! Don’t blame me for it! Don’t ask me to explain, +but you must not go out this way!”</p> +<p>She stood by her task now from a new motive, +one that impelled more strongly than her fear of +being reproached and derided by Elizabeth. Her +own self-esteem was enlisted, and she was now +determined not to incur her own reproach and +derision. She perceived, too, with a sentimental +woman’s sense of the dramatic, that, though denied +a drama of her own in which she might figure as +heroine, here was, in another’s drama, a scene entirely +hers, and she was resolved to act it out with +honor. Circumstances had not favored her with a +romance, but here, in another’s romance, was a chapter +exclusively hers, a chapter, moreover, on whose +proper termination the very continuation of the +romance depended. So she would hold that door, +at any cost.</p> +<p>Peyton regarded her for another moment of +silence.</p> +<p>“Oh, well,” said he, at last, “I can go the other +way.”</p> +<p>And, to her dismay, he strode towards the door +of the east hall. She could not possibly outrun +him thither. Her heart sank. The killing sense +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213' name='page_213'></a>213</span> +of failure benumbed her body. He was already at +the door,—was about to open it. At that instant +he stepped back into the parlor. In through the +doorway, that he was about to traverse, came Elizabeth.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214' name='page_214'></a>214</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XI_THE_CONQUEST' id='CHAPTER_XI_THE_CONQUEST'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XI.</h2> +<h3>THE CONQUEST.</h3> +</div> +<p class='dropcap'><span class='dcap'>Miss Sally</span> saw at a glance that her niece was +dressed for conquest; then, with immense relief and +supreme exultation, but with a feeling of exhaustion, +knowing that her work was done, she silently left +the room by the door she had guarded, closed it +noiselessly behind her, and went up-stairs to restore +her worked-out energies.</p> +<p>Elizabeth wore a blue satin gown, the one evening +dress she had, in the possibility of a candle-light +visit from the officers at the outpost, brought +with her from New York. Her bare forearms, and +the white surface surrounding the base of her +neck, were thus for the first time displayed to +Peyton’s view. A pair of slender gold bracelets +on her wrists set off the smoothness of her rounded +arms, but she wore no other jewelry. She had +not had the time or the facilities to have her +hair built high as a grenadier’s cap, but she looked +none the less commanding. She was, indeed, a +radiant creature. Peyton, having never before seen +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215' name='page_215'></a>215</span> +her at her present advantage, opened wide his eyes +and stared at her with a wonder whose openness +was excused only by the suddenness of the dazzling +apparition.</p> +<p>She cast on him a momentary look of perfect +indifference, as she might on any one that stood in +her way; then walked lightly to the spinet, giving +him a barely noticeable wide berth in passing, as +if he were something with which it was probably +desirable not to come in contact. Her slight deviation +from a direct line of progress, though made +inoffensively, struck him like a blow, yet did not +interrupt, for more than an instant, his admiration. +He stood dumbly looking after her, at her smooth +and graceful movement, which had no sound but the +rustling of skirts, her footfalls being noiseless in +the satin slippers she wore.</p> +<p>Peyton was not now as impatient as he had been +to depart. In fact, he lost, in some measure, his +sense of being in the act of departure. What he +felt was an inclination to look longer on this so unexpected +vision. She sat down at the spinet with +her back towards him, and somehow conveyed in her +attitude that she thought him no longer in the room. +He felt a necessity for establishing the fact of his +presence.</p> +<p>“Pardon me for addressing you,” he said, with a +diffidence new to him, taking up the first pretext +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216' name='page_216'></a>216</span> +that came to mind, “but I fear your aunt requires +looking to. She behaves strangely.”</p> +<p>“Oh,” said Elizabeth, lightly, too wise to give him +the importance of pretending not to hear him, “she +is subject to queer spells at times. I thought you +had gone.”</p> +<p>She began to play the spinet, very quietly and +unobtrusively, with an absence of resentment, and +with a seemingly unconscious indifference, that gave +him a paralyzing sense of nothingness.</p> +<p>Unpleasant as this feeling made his position, he +felt the situation become one from which it would be +extremely awkward to flee. For the first time since +certain boyhood fits of bashfulness, he now realized +the aptness of that oft-read expression, “rooted to +the spot.” That he should be thrown into this +trance-like embarrassment, this powerlessness of +motion, this feeling of a schoolboy first introduced +to society, of a player caught by stage fright, was +intolerable.</p> +<p>When she had touched the keys gently a few +times, he shook off something of the spell that +bound him, and moved to a spot whence he could +get a view of her face in profile. It had not an +infinitesimal trace of the storm that had driven him +from the room a short time before. It was entirely +serene. There was on it no anger, no grief, no +reproach of self or of another, no scorn. There was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217' name='page_217'></a>217</span> +pride, but only the pride it normally wore; reserve, +but only the reserve habitual to a high-born girl in +the presence of any but her familiars. It was hard +to believe her the woman who had been stirred to +such tremendous wrath a few minutes ago, by the +disclosure that she had been deceived, her love +tricked and misplaced. Rather, it was hard to believe +that the scene of wrath had ever occurred, that +this woman had ever been so stirred by such cause, +that she had ever loved him, that he had ever dared +pretend love to her. The deception and the confession, +with all they had elicited from her, seemed +parts of a dream, of some fancy he had had, some +romance he had read.</p> +<p>As for Elizabeth, she knew not, thought not, +whether, in bearing him hot resentment, she still +loved him. She knew only that she craved revenge, +and that the first step towards her desired end +was to assume that indifference which so puzzled, +interested, and confounded him. A weak or a stupid +woman would have shown a sense of injury, with +flashes of anger. An ordinarily clever woman would +have affected disdain, would have sniffed and looked +haughty, would have overdone her pretended contempt. +It is true, Elizabeth had moved slightly out +of her way to pass further from him, but she had +done this with apparent thoughtlessness, as if the +act were dictated by some inner sense of his belonging +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218' name='page_218'></a>218</span> +to an inferior race; not with a visible intention +of showing repulsion. It is true she had assumed +ignorance of his presence, but she had given him to +attribute this to a belief that he had left the room. +When his voice declared his whereabouts, she treated +him just as she would have treated any other indifferent +person who was <i>not quite</i> her equal.</p> +<p>Peyton felt more and more uncomfortable. Would +she continue playing the spinet forever, so perfectly +at ease, so content not to look at him again, so +assuming it for granted that, the operation of leave-taking +being considered over between hostess and +guest, the guest might properly be gone any moment +without further attention on either side?</p> +<p>He began to fear that, if he did not soon speak, +his voice would be beyond recovery. So, with a +desperate resolve to recover his self-possession at +a single <i>coup</i>, he blurted out, bunglingly:</p> +<p>“’Tis the first time I have seen you in that gown, +madam.”</p> +<p>Elizabeth, not ceasing to let her fingers ramble +with soft touch over the keyboard, replied, carelessly:</p> +<p>“I have not worn it in some time.”</p> +<p>Having found that he retained the power of speech, +he proceeded to utter frankly his latest thought, concealing +the slight bitterness of it with a pretence of +playful, make-believe reproach:</p> +<p>“’Tis not flattering to me, that you never wore it +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219' name='page_219'></a>219</span> +while I was your guest, yet put it on the moment +you thought I had departed.”</p> +<p>She answered with good-humored lightness, “Why, +sir, do you complain of not being flattered? I +thought such complaints were made only by women, +and only to their own hearts.”</p> +<p>“If by flattery,” said he, “you mean merited compliment, +there are women who can never have occasion +to complain of not receiving it.”</p> +<p>“Indeed? When was that discovery made?”</p> +<p>“A minute ago, madam.”</p> +<p>“Oh!” and she smiled with just such graciousness +as a woman might show in accepting a compliment +from a comparative stranger. “Thank you!”</p> +<p>“When I think of it,” said he, “it seems strange +that you—ah—never took pains to—eh—to appear +at your best—nay, I should say, as your real +self!—before me.”</p> +<p>“Oh, you allude to my wearing this gown? Why, +you must pardon my not having received you ceremoniously. +<i>Your</i> visit began unexpectedly.”</p> +<p>“Then somebody else is about to begin a visit +that <i>is</i> expected?”</p> +<p>“Didn’t you know? I thought all the house was +aware Major Colden was to return in a week. He +may be here to-night, though perhaps not till to-morrow.”</p> +<p>“Confound that man!” This to himself, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220' name='page_220'></a>220</span> +then, to her: “I was of the impression you did not +love him.”</p> +<p>“Why, what gave you that impression?”</p> +<p>“No matter. It seems I was wrong.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I don’t say that,—or that you’re right, +either.”</p> +<p>“However,” quoth he, with an inward sigh of +resignation, “it is for <i>him</i> that you are dressed as +you never were for me!”</p> +<p>She did not choose to ask what reason had existed +for considering him in selecting her attire. It was +better not to notice his presumption, and she became +more absorbed in her music.</p> +<p>Peyton strode up and down a few moments, then +sat by the table, and rested his cheek on his hand, +wearing a somewhat injured look.</p> +<p>“Major Colden, eh?” he mused. “To think I +should come upon him again!” He essayed to +renew conversation. “I trust, Miss Philipse, when +I am gone—” But Elizabeth was now oblivious of +surroundings; the notes from the spinet became +louder, and she began to hum the air in a low, +agreeable voice. Peyton looked hopeless. Presently +he stood up again, watching her.</p> +<p>Elizabeth brought the piece to a lively finish, rose +capriciously, took up the flowers she had laid on the +spinet earlier in the evening, put them in her corsage, +and made to readjust the bracelet on her right +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221' name='page_221'></a>221</span> +arm. In this attempt, she accidentally dropped the +bracelet to the floor. Peyton ran to pick it up. +But she quickly recovered it before he could reach +it, put it on, walked to the table and sat down by it, +removed the flowers from her bosom to the table, +took up the volume of “The School for Scandal,” +and turned the leaves over as if in quest of a certain +page.</p> +<p>While she was looking at the book, Peyton took +up the flowers. Elizabeth, as if thinking they were +still where she had laid them, put out her hand to +repossess them, keeping her eyes the while on the +book. For a moment, her hand ranged the table in +search, then she abandoned the attempt to regain +them.</p> +<p>Peyton held them out to her.</p> +<p>“No, I thank you,” she said, laying down the +book, and went back to the spinet.</p> +<p>“Ah, you give them to me!” cried Peyton, with +sudden pleasure.</p> +<p>“Not at all! I merely do not wish to have them +now.”</p> +<p>“Oh,” said he, thinking to make account by finding +offence where none was really expressed, “has +my touch contaminated them for you?”</p> +<p>“How can you talk so absurdly?” And she resumed +her seat at the spinet, and her playing.</p> +<p>Peyton stood holding the flowers, looking at her, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222' name='page_222'></a>222</span> +and presently heaved a deep sigh. This not moving +her, he suddenly had an access of pride, brought +himself together, and saying, with quick resolution, +“I bid you good-night and good-by, madam,” went +rapidly towards the door of the east hall. But his +resolution weakened when his hand touched the +knob, and, to make pretext for further sight of her, +he turned and went to go out the other door.</p> +<p>Elizabeth had had a moment of alarm at his first +sign of departure, but had not betrayed the feeling. +Now when, from her seat at the spinet, she saw him +actually crossing the threshold near her, she called +out, gently, “A moment, captain.”</p> +<p>The pleased look on his face, as he turned towards +her inquiringly, betrayed his gratification at being +called back.</p> +<p>“You are taking my flowers away,” she said, in +explanation.</p> +<p>He plainly showed his disappointment. “Your +pardon. My thoughtlessness. But you said you +didn’t wish to keep them.” He laid them on the +spinet.</p> +<p>“I do not,—yet a woman must allow very few +hands to carry off flowers of her gathering.”</p> +<p>She rose and took up the flowers and walked +towards the fireplace.</p> +<p>“Then you at least take them back from my +hands,” said Peyton.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223' name='page_223'></a>223</span></div> +<p>“Why, yes,—for this,” and she tossed them into +the fire.</p> +<p>He looked at them as they withered in the blaze, +then said, “Have you any objection to my carrying +away the ashes, Miss Philipse?”</p> +<p>She answered, considerately, “’Twill take you more +time than you can lose, to gather them up.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I am in no haste.”</p> +<p>“Oh, then, I ask your pardon. A moment since, +you were about to go.”</p> +<p>“But now I prefer to stay.”</p> +<p>“Indeed? May I ask the reason—but no matter.”</p> +<p>But he felt that a reason ought to be forthcoming. +“Why, you know, because—” And here he +thought of one. “I wish to stay to meet Major +Colden, of whom you say I am afraid. I shall prove +to you at least I am no coward. After what you +have said to me this night, I must in honor wait to +face him.”</p> +<p>“But it is late now. I don’t think he will come +till to-morrow.”</p> +<p>“Then I can wait till to-morrow.”</p> +<p>“But your duty calls you back to your own camp, +now that your wound has healed.”</p> +<p>“I think my wound has undergone a slight relapse. +You shall see, at least, I am not afraid of +your champion.”</p> +<p>“If that is your only reason,—your desire to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224' name='page_224'></a>224</span> +quarrel with Major Colden,—I cannot invite you +to remain.”</p> +<p>“Well, then, to tell the truth, there <i>is</i> another +reason. When I said, a while since, I had never +seen you in that gown, I used too many words. I +should have said I had never really seen you at all.”</p> +<p>“Where were your eyes?” she asked, absently, +seeming to take his words literally and to perceive +no compliment.</p> +<p>“I was in a kind of waking sleep.”</p> +<p>“It has been a time and place of hallucinations, I +think. I, too, sir, have been, since I came here a +week ago, under the strangest spell. A kind of light +madness or witchery was over me, and made me act +ridiculously, against my very will. A week ago, +when you were disabled, I intended to give you up +to the British,—as I should do now, if it would not +be so troublesome—”</p> +<p>“’Twould be troublesome to <i>me</i>, I assure you,” he +said, interrupting.</p> +<p>“But at the last moment,” she went on, “I did +precisely the reverse of what I wished. Awhile +ago, in this room, I seemed to be in the possession +of some evil spirit, which made me say preposterous +things. I can only remember some wild raving I +indulged in, and some undeserved rudeness I displayed +towards you. But, will you believe, the instant +you left me, I recovered my right mind. I am +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225' name='page_225'></a>225</span> +like one returned from bedlam, cured, and you will +pardon any incivility I may have done you in my +peculiar state, I’m sure, since you speak of having +been curiously afflicted yourself.”</p> +<p>“Then you mean,” he faltered, “you did not +really love me?”</p> +<p>“Why, certainly I did not! How could you think +I did? Something possessed my will. But, thank +heaven, I am myself again. Why, sir, how could I? +You know very little of me, sir, to think—Oh!” +She covered her face with her hands. “What things +must I have said and done, in my clouded state, +to make you think that! You,—an enemy, a rebel, +a person whose only possible interest to me arises +from his enmity!”</p> +<p>Dazzled as he was by her newly discovered beauty, +the imposition on him was complete. He saw this +covetable being now indifferent to him, out of his +power to possess, likely soon to pass into the possession +of another.</p> +<p>“Pray try to forget awhile that enmity,” he +supplicated.</p> +<p>“I shall try, and then you can have no interest +for me at all.”</p> +<p>“Then don’t try, I beg. I’d rather have an interest +for you as an enemy than not at all.”</p> +<p>“Why, really, sir—” She seemed half puzzled, +half amused.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226' name='page_226'></a>226</span></div> +<p>“Lord,” quoth he, “how I have been deluded! +I thought my love-making that night, feigned though +it was, had wakened a response.”</p> +<p>“Love-making, do you say? Will you believe me, +sir, I don’t remember what passed here that night, +save the unaccountable ending,—my making you +my guest instead of their prisoner.”</p> +<p>“I wish you were pretending all this!”</p> +<p>“Why, if ’twould make you happier that I were, +I wish so, too.”</p> +<p>“How can you speak so lightly of such matters?”</p> +<p>“What matters?”</p> +<p>“Love, of course.”</p> +<p>“Why, do men alone, because they laugh at +women for taking love seriously, have the right +to take it lightly? And of what love am I speaking +lightly,—the love you say you feigned for me, +or the love you say you thought you had awakened +in me?”</p> +<p>“The love I vow I do <i>not</i> feign for you! The +love I wish I <i>could</i> awaken in you!”</p> +<p>“Why, captain, what a change has come over +you!”</p> +<p>“Yes. I have risen from my sleep. If you, in +waking from yours, put off love, I, in waking from +mine, took on love!”</p> +<p>She smiled, as with amusement. “A somewhat +speedy taking on, I should say.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227' name='page_227'></a>227</span></div> +<p>“Love’s born of a glance, <i>I</i> say!”</p> +<p>“Haven’t I heard that before?” reflectively.</p> +<p>“Aye, for I said it here when I did not mean it, +and now I say it again when I do!”</p> +<p>“And of what particular glance am I to suppose—”</p> +<p>“Of the first glance I cast on you when you +entered this room in that gown. Yes, born of a +glance—”</p> +<p>“Born of a gown, in that case, don’t you mean?” +derisively.</p> +<p>“Of a gown, or a glance, or a what you wish.”</p> +<p>“I don’t wish it should be born at all.”</p> +<p>“You don’t wish I should love you?”</p> +<p>“I don’t wish you should love me or shouldn’t +love me. I don’t wish you—anything. Why +should I wish anything of one who is nothing to +me?”</p> +<p>“Nothing to you! I would you were to me what +I am to you!”</p> +<p>“What is that, pray?”</p> +<p>“An adorer!”</p> +<p>“You are a—very amusing gentleman.”</p> +<p>“You refuse me a glimpse of hope?”</p> +<p>“You would like to have it as a trophy, I suppose. +You men treasure the memories of your little conquests +over foolish women, as an Indian treasures +the scalps he takes.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228' name='page_228'></a>228</span></div> +<p>“Lord! which sex, I wonder, has the busier +scalping-knife?”</p> +<p>“I can’t speak for all my sex. Some of us seek +no scalps—”</p> +<p>“You don’t have to. I make you a present of +mine. I fling it at your feet.”</p> +<p>“We seek no scalps, I say,—because we don’t +value them a finger-snap.” And she gave a specimen +of the kind of finger-snap she did not value +them at.</p> +<p>“In heaven’s name,” he said, “say what you do +value, that I may strive to become like it! What +do you value, I implore you, tell me?”</p> +<p>“Oh,—my studies, for one thing,—my French +and my music,—”</p> +<p>“Could I but translate myself into French, or set +myself to an air!”</p> +<p>“Nay, I don’t care for <i>comic</i> songs!”</p> +<p>“I see you like flowers. If I might die, and be +buried in your garden, and grow up in the shape of +a rose-bush—”</p> +<p>“Or a cabbage!”</p> +<p>“I fear you don’t like that flower.”</p> +<p>“Better come up in the form of your own Virginia +tobacco.”</p> +<p>“And be smoked by old Mr. Valentine? No, you +don’t like tobacco. Ah, Miss Philipse, this levity is +far from the mood of my heart!”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229' name='page_229'></a>229</span></div> +<p>“Why do you indulge in it, then?”</p> +<p>“I? Is it I who indulge in levity?”</p> +<p>“Assuredly, <i>I</i> do not!” Oh, woman’s privilege +of saying unabashedly the thing which is not!</p> +<p>“No,” said he, “for there’s no levity in the coldness +with which beauty views the wounds it makes.”</p> +<p>“I’m sure one is not compelled to offer oneself to +its wounds.”</p> +<p>“No,—nor the moth to seek the flame.”</p> +<p>“La, now you are a moth,—a moment ago, a +rose-bush,—”</p> +<p>“And you are ten million roses, grown in the garden +of heaven, and fashioned into one body there, by +some celestial Praxiteles!”</p> +<p>“Dear me, am I all that?”</p> +<p>“Ay,” he said, sadly, “and no more truly conscious +of what it means to be all that, than any rose +in any garden is conscious of what its beauty means!”</p> +<p>“Perhaps,” she said, softly, feeling for a moment +almost tenderness enough to abandon her purpose, +“more conscious than you think!”</p> +<p>“Ah! Then you are not like common beauties,—as +poor and dull within as they are rich and radiant +without? You but pretend insensibility, to hide real +feeling.”</p> +<p>“I did not say so,” she answered, lightly, bracing +herself again to her resolution.</p> +<p>“But it is so, is it not?” he went on. “Your +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230' name='page_230'></a>230</span> +heart and mind are as roseate and delicate as your +face? You can understand my praises and my feelings? +You can value such love as mine aright, and +know ’tis worthy some repayment?”</p> +<p>But she was not again to be duped by low-spoken, +fervid words, or by wistful, glowing eyes. She must +be sure of him.</p> +<p>“I know,—I recall now,” she said, with little apparent +interest; “you spoke of love a week ago, +with no less eloquence and ardor.”</p> +<p>“More eloquence and ardor, I dare say, for then I +did not feel love. Then my tongue was not tied by +sense of a passion it could not hope to express one +hundredth part of! And, even if my tongue had gift +to tell my heart, I should not dare trust myself +under the sway of my feelings. But I <i>do</i> love you +now,—I do,—I do!”</p> +<p>“If now, why not before?”</p> +<p>“Haven’t I said I’ve been blind to you until +to-night? At first I regarded you as only an +enemy to be turned to my use in my peril. Having +been fortunate in that, I gave myself to other +thoughts. But, thinking my false love had drawn +true love from you, I saw I could not in honor leave +you under a false belief. But now the falsehood has +become truth. A week ago, I avowed a pretended +passion, to gain my life! Now, I declare a real one, +to gain your love!”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231' name='page_231'></a>231</span></div> +<p>“What, you expect to take my love by storm, in +reality, as you did, in appearance, a week ago?” +She had risen from the music seat, and now stood +with her back against the spinet, her hands behind +her, her head turned slightly upward, facing him.</p> +<p>“I don’t expect,” said he. “I only hope.”</p> +<p>“And what gives you reason to hope?”</p> +<p>“My own love for you. Love elicits love, they +say.”</p> +<p>“They say wrong, then. If that were true, there +would be no unrequited lovers.”</p> +<p>“Ay, but such love as mine,—how can it so fill +me to overflowing, and not infect you?”</p> +<p>“Love is not an infectious disease. If it were, I +should have no fear,—knowing myself love-proof.”</p> +<p>“I can’t believe that,—for a woman with no +spark in herself could not light so fierce a flame in +me, by the mere meeting of our eyes.”</p> +<p>“If it should create in me such a disturbance as +you seem to undergo, I shouldn’t wish it to increase. +But, I assure you, it isn’t in me.”</p> +<p>“Pray think it is. Only imagine it is there, and +soon it will be.”</p> +<p>She felt that the time was at hand to strike the +blow.</p> +<p>“If I could be perfectly sure you spoke in earnest,” +she said, seeming to search his countenance +for testimony.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232' name='page_232'></a>232</span></div> +<p>“In earnest!” he echoed. “Great heavens, what +evidence do you want? If there is an aspect of love +I do not have, tell me, and I shall put it on.”</p> +<p>“Yes, you are experienced in putting on the +<i>aspects</i> of love.”</p> +<p>“Oh, you well know I have no reason now for +declaring a love I don’t feel. If you could be sure +I spoke in earnest, you said,—what then? Tell +me, and I shall find a way to convince you I <i>am</i> in +earnest.”</p> +<p>“Convince me first.”</p> +<p>“‘Convince me,’ you say. And I say, ‘Be convinced.’ +By the Lord, never was so great a sceptic! +Is not your sense of your own charms sufficient to +convince you of their effect?”</p> +<p>“Mere words!”</p> +<p>“I’ll prove my love by acts, then!”</p> +<p>“By what acts?”</p> +<p>“By fighting for you or suffering for you, dying +for you or living for you, as you may command.”</p> +<p>“You can prove it thus. Say, ‘Long live the +King!’”</p> +<p>He gazed at her a moment. “No,” he said.</p> +<p>“Say, ‘Long live the King!’” She went to the +door, and paused on the threshold, looking at him, +as if to give him a last opportunity.</p> +<p>“Long live the King—” he said.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233' name='page_233'></a>233</span></div> +<p>She came back from the door.</p> +<p>“Of France!” he added.</p> +<p>“No,” she cried, and dictated, “‘Long live the +King of Great Britain!’”</p> +<p>“Long live the King of Great Britain,—but not +of America.”</p> +<p>“No! ‘Long live George the Third, King of +Great Britain and the American colonies!’”</p> +<p>“Long live George the Third, King of Great +Britain and—Ireland.”</p> +<p>“‘And of the American colonies.’ Say it! Say +it all!”</p> +<p>“Long live Elizabeth Philipse, queen of beauty in +the United States of America!” he answered.</p> +<p>“You don’t love me,” said she, and set her mind +to finding some other means by which he might +evince what she knew he would never demonstrate +in the way she had demanded. And she resolved +his humiliation should be all the greater for the +delay. “You don’t love me.”</p> +<p>“I do. I swear, on my knees.”</p> +<p>“Then <i>get</i> on your knees!”</p> +<p>“I do!” He dropped on one knee.</p> +<p>“Both knees!”</p> +<p>“Both.” He suited action to word.</p> +<p>“Bow lower.”</p> +<p>“I touch the floor.” He did so, with his forehead. +“Are you convinced?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234' name='page_234'></a>234</span></div> +<p>“Yes.” And she moved thoughtfully towards +the door of the east hall.</p> +<p>“Ah! Convinced that I love you madly?” In +obedience to a gesture, he remained on his knees.</p> +<p>“Perfectly convinced.”</p> +<p>“Then, the reward of which you hinted?”</p> +<p>“Reward?”</p> +<p>“You said, if you could be sure I spoke in earnest. +Now you admit you are sure. What then?”</p> +<p>She let her eyes rest on him a moment, without +speaking, as he looked ardently and expectantly up +at her from his kneeling attitude, while she took in +breath, and then she flung her answer at him.</p> +<p>“What then? This! That you are now more +contemptible and ridiculous and utterly non-existent, +to me, than you have formerly been! That, whatever +I may have done which seemed in your behalf, was +partly from the strange insanity of which I have +spoken, and partly from the most meaningless caprice! +That, if you remain here till to-morrow, you +may see me in the arms of the man I really love, +and that he may not be as careless of the fate of +a vagabond rebel as I am. And now, Captain Crayton, +or Dayton, or Peyton, or whatever you please, +of somebody or other’s light horse, go or stay, as +you choose; you’re as welcome as any other casual +passer-by, for all the comical figure your impudence +has made you cut! Learn modesty, sir, and you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235' name='page_235'></a>235</span> +may fare better in your next love-making, if you do +not aim too high! And that piece of advice is the +reward I hinted at! Good night!”</p> +<p>And she whirled from the room, slamming behind +her the mahogany door, at which Peyton stared for +some seconds, in blank amazement, too overwhelmed +to speak or move or breathe or think.</p> +<p>But gradually he came to life, slowly rose, stood +for a moment thoughtful, fashioned his brows into a +frown, drew his lips back hard, and muttered through +his closed teeth:</p> +<p>“I’ll stay and fight that man, at least!”</p> +<p>And he sat down by the table, to wait.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236' name='page_236'></a>236</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XII_THE_CHALLENGE' id='CHAPTER_XII_THE_CHALLENGE'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XII.</h2> +<h3>THE CHALLENGE.</h3> +</div> +<p class='dropcap'><span class='dcap'>A very</span> few moments had elapsed, and Peyton +still sat by the table, in a dogged study, when the +door from the south hall was opened slightly, and +if he had looked he might have seen a pair of eyes +peeping through the aperture. But he did not look, +either then or when, some seconds later, the door +opened wide and Miss Sally bobbed gracefully in.</p> +<p>It has been related how, after her brilliant but +exhausting conduct of the important scene assigned +her, she sought repose in her room. Looking out +of her window presently, she saw something, of +which she thought it advisable to inform Elizabeth. +Therefore she came down-stairs. Did she listen at +the door to the last part of that notable conversation? +Ungallant thought, aroint thee! ’Tis well +known women have little curiosity, and what little +they have they would not, being of Miss Sally’s +station in life, descend to gratify by eavesdropping. +Let it be assumed, therefore, that the much vaunted +informant, feminine intuition, told Miss Sally of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237' name='page_237'></a>237</span> +end of the interview between her niece and the captain, +both as to the time of that end and as to its +nature.</p> +<p>She entered, tremulous with a vast idea that had +blazed suddenly on her mind. Now that Elizabeth +was quite through with Peyton, now that Peyton +must be low in his self-esteem for Elizabeth’s humiliation +of him, and therefore likely to be grateful for +consolatory attentions, Miss Sally might resume her +own hopes. But there was no time to be lost.</p> +<p>“Your pardon, captain,” she began, sweetly, with +her most flattering smile. “I am looking for Miss +Elizabeth.”</p> +<p>“She was here awhile ago,” replied Peyton, glumly, +not bringing his eyes within range of the smile. +“She went that way. I trust you’ve recovered +from your attack.”</p> +<p>“My attack?” inquiringly, with surprise.</p> +<p>“The queer spell, I think Miss Philipse called it. +She said you were subject to them.”</p> +<p>“Well, how does she dare—” She checked +her tongue, lest she might betray the device for his +detention. Something in his absent, careless way of +associating her with a queer spell irritated her a +little for the moment, and impelled her to retaliation. +“I suppose that was not the only thing she said to +you?” she added, ingenuously.</p> +<p>“No,—she said other things.” He rose and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238' name='page_238'></a>238</span> +went to the fireplace, leaned against the mantel, +and gazed pensively at the red embers.</p> +<p>“They don’t seem to have left you very cheerful,” +ventured Miss Sally.</p> +<p>“Not so very damned cheerful!—I beg your +pardon.”</p> +<p>Miss Sally’s moment of resentment had passed. +Now was the time to strike for herself. She thought +she had hit on a clever plan of getting around to the +matter.</p> +<p>“Captain,” said she, “you’re a man of the world. +I know it’s presumptuous of me to ask it, but—if +you would give me a word of advice—”</p> +<p>Peyton did not take his look from the fire, or his +thoughts from their dismal absorption. He answered, +half-unconsciously:</p> +<p>“Oh, certainly! Anything at all.”</p> +<p>“You are aware, of course,” she went on, with +smirking, rosy confusion, “that Mr. Valentine is a +widower.”</p> +<p>“Indeed? Oh, yes, yes, I know.”</p> +<p>“Yes, a widower twice over.”</p> +<p>“How sad! He must feel twice the usual amount +of grief.”</p> +<p>“Why,—I don’t know exactly about that.”</p> +<p>“The poor man has my sympathy. Doubtless he +is inconsolable.” Peyton scarce knew what he was +saying, or whom it was about.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239' name='page_239'></a>239</span></div> +<p>“Why, no,” said Miss Sally, averting her eyes, +with a smiling shyness, “not altogether inconsolable. +That’s just it.”</p> +<p>“Oh, is it?” said Peyton, obliviously.</p> +<p>“You may have noticed that he spends a good +deal of time here at present,” she went on.</p> +<p>“A good deal of time,” he repeated. “There’s +doubtless some strong attraction.”</p> +<p>“Yes. Perhaps I oughtn’t to say it, but there <i>is</i> +a strong attraction. In fact, he has proposed marriage +to me, and now, as a man of the world to a +woman of little experience, would you advise me to +accept him?”</p> +<p>And she looked at the disconsolate officer so +sweetly, it seemed impossible he should do aught +but say it would be throwing herself away to bestow +on an old man charms of which younger and warmer +eyes were sensible. But he answered only:</p> +<p>“Certainly! An excellent match!”</p> +<p>For a time Miss Sally was speechless, yet open-mouthed. +And then, for the length of one brief but +fiery tirade, she showed herself to be her niece’s aunt:</p> +<p>“Sir! The idea! I wouldn’t have that old +smoke-chimney if he were the last man on earth! +I’d have given him his congé long ago, if it hadn’t +been that he might propose to my friend, the widow +Babcock! I’ve only kept him on the string to prevent +her getting him. When I want your advice, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240' name='page_240'></a>240</span> +Captain Peyton, I’ll ask for it! Excuse me, I must +find Elizabeth. I’ve news for her.”</p> +<p>“News?” he echoed, stupidly.</p> +<p>“Yes. From my chamber window awhile ago I +saw some one riding this way on the post-road,—Major +Colden!”</p> +<p>And she swept out by the same door that had +closed, a few minutes before, on Elizabeth.</p> +<p>“Major Colden!” Peyton’s teeth tightened, his +eyes shot fire, his hand flew to his sword-hilt, as he +spoke the name.</p> +<p>He went to the window, the same window at +which Elizabeth had looked out a week ago, and +peered through the panes at the night.</p> +<p>“Why, the ground is white,” he said. “It has +begun to snow.”</p> +<p>But, through the large flakes that fell thick and +swiftly among the trees, he did not yet see any +humankind approaching. His view of the branch +road was, at some places, obstructed by tall shrubbery +that rose high above the palings and the hedge.</p> +<p>Yet through those flakes, assaulted by them in +eyes and nostrils, invaded by them in ears and neck, +humankind was riding. It was, indeed, Colden +that Miss Sally had seen through a fortuitous +opening, which gave, between the trees, a view of the +most eminent point of the post-road southward. He +was to conduct Elizabeth home the next day, but +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241' name='page_241'></a>241</span> +had availed himself of his opportunity to ride out to +the manor-house that night, so as to have the few +more hours in her society. He had this time taken +an escort of two privates of his own regiment, but +these men were not as well mounted as he, and, in +his impatience, having seen the best their horses +could do, and having passed King’s Bridge, he had +ridden ahead of them, leaving them to follow to +the manor-house in their own speediest time. Thus +it was that now he bore alone down from the post-road, +his horse’s feet making on the new-fallen snow +no other sound than a soft crunching, scarce louder +than its heavy breathing or its mouth-play on the +bit, or the creak and clank of saddle, bridle, stirrups, +pistols, and scabbard. His eyes dwelt eagerly on +the manor-house, where awaited him light and +warmth and wine, refuge from the pelting flakes, +and, above all else, the joy-giving presence of Elizabeth. +His breast expanded, he sighed already with +relief; he approached the gate as a released soul, +with admission ticket duly purchased by a deathbed +repentance, might approach the gate of heaven.</p> +<p>But Peyton, looking out on the white world, saw +no one. He did not change his attitude when the +door reopened and Elizabeth and her aunt came into +the parlor, arm in arm.</p> +<p>“You’re sure ’twas he, aunt Sally?” Elizabeth had +been saying.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_242' name='page_242'></a>242</span></div> +<p>“Positive. He should be here now,” Miss Sally +had replied.</p> +<p>Elizabeth cast a look of secret elation on the +unheeding rebel captain, whose forehead was still +against the window-pane. She saw a possible means +of his still further degradation.</p> +<p>Suddenly he took a quick step back from the +window, impulsively renewed his grasp of his sword-hilt, +and showed a face of resolute antagonism.</p> +<p>Elizabeth knew from this that he had seen Colden. +She gave a smile of pleasant anticipation.</p> +<p>But Miss Sally had relapsed into her usual timid +self. She held tightly to Elizabeth’s arm.</p> +<p>“Oh, dear!” she whispered. “Won’t something +happen when those two meet?”</p> +<p>“I hope so!” said Elizabeth, placidly.</p> +<p>“Why?” demanded Miss Sally, beginning to +weaken at the knees.</p> +<p>“If Colden sends him to the ground, in our presence, +that will crown the fellow’s humiliation.”</p> +<p>Five brisk knocks, in quick succession, were heard +from the outside door of the east hall.</p> +<p>Peyton walked across the parlor, turned, and stood +facing the east hall door, the greater part of the +room’s length being between him and it. His hand +remained on his sword. He paid no heed to Elizabeth, +she paid none to him.</p> +<p>“His knock!” she said, and called out through +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243' name='page_243'></a>243</span> +the east hall door: “’Tis Major Colden, Sam. Show +him here at once.” She then stepped back from the +door, to a place whence she could see both it and +Peyton. Her aunt clung to her arm all the while, +and now whispered, “Oh, Elizabeth, I fear there will +be trouble!”</p> +<p>“If there is, it won’t fall on your silly head,” +whispered Elizabeth, in reply.</p> +<p>From the hall came the sound of the drawing +of bolts. Peyton did not take his eyes from the +door.</p> +<p>A noise of footfalls, accompanied by clank of +spurs and weapons, and in came Colden, his hat +in his left hand, snow on his hat and shoulders, his +cloak open, his sword and pistols visible, his right +hand ungloved to clasp Elizabeth’s.</p> +<p>She received him with such a cordial smile as he +had never before had from her.</p> +<p>“Elizabeth!” he cried,—beheld only her, hastened +to her, took her proffered hand, bent his head +and kissed the fingers, raised his eyes with a grateful, +joyous smile,—and saw Peyton standing motionless +at the other side of the room. The smile +vanished; a look of amazement and hatred came.</p> +<p>“I wish you a very good evening, <i>Major</i> Colden!”</p> +<p>Peyton said this in a voice as hard and ironical +as might have come from a brass statue.</p> +<p>For the next few seconds the two men stood +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244' name='page_244'></a>244</span> +gazing at each other, the women gazing at the men. +At last the Tory major found speech:</p> +<p>“Elizabeth,—what does it mean? Why is this +man here,—again?”</p> +<p>“’Tis rather a long story, Jack, and you shall hear +it all in time,” said Elizabeth, determined he should +never hear the true story.</p> +<p>Before she could continue, Colden suffered a start +of alarm to possess him, and asked, quickly:</p> +<p>“Are any of his troops here?”</p> +<p>“No; he is quite alone,” she answered.</p> +<p>Colden at once took on height, arrogance, and +formidableness.</p> +<p>“Then why have not your servants made him +a prisoner?” he asked.</p> +<p>“Why,” said she, “you being mentioned to-night, +in his presence, he made some kind of boast of not +fearing you, and I, divining how soon you would be +here, thought fit his freedom with your name should +best be paid for at <i>your</i> hands, major.”</p> +<p>“Ay, major,” put in Peyton, “and I have stayed +to receive payment!”</p> +<p>Colden thought for a short while. Then he said, +“A moment, Elizabeth. Your pardon, Miss Williams,” +and drew Elizabeth aside, and spoke to her +in a low tone: “We have only to temporize with +him. Two of my men have attended me from my +quarters. I had a better horse, and rode ahead, in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245' name='page_245'></a>245</span> +my eagerness to see you. My two fellows will be +here soon, and the business will be done.”</p> +<p>But such doing of the business did not suit Elizabeth’s +purpose. “I wish to humiliate the man,” +she answered Colden, inaudibly to the others; “to +take down his upstart pride! ’Twould be no shame +to him, to be made prisoner by numbers.”</p> +<p>“What, then?” asked Colden, dubiously.</p> +<p>“Bring down the coxcomb, before us women, in +an even match!”</p> +<p>To prevent objections, she then abruptly went +from Colden, and resumed her place at her aunt’s +side.</p> +<p>Colden stood frowning, not half pleased at her +hint. It occurred to him, as it did not to her, that +the mere allegiance and favoring wishes of herself +were not sufficient possessions to ensure victory in +such a match as she meant. Elizabeth, accustomed +to success, did not conceive it possible that the +chosen agent of her own designs could fail. But +the chosen agent had, in this case, wider powers +of conception.</p> +<p>All this time, Captain Peyton had stood as +motionless as a figure in a painting. He now interrupted +Colden’s meditations with the gentle +reminder:</p> +<p>“I am waiting for my payment, Major Colden.”</p> +<p>Colden was not a man of much originality. So, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246' name='page_246'></a>246</span> +in his instinctive endeavor to gain time, he bungled +out the conventional reply, “You wish to seek a +quarrel with me, sir?”</p> +<p>“Seek a quarrel?” retorted Peyton. “Is not the +quarrel here? Has not Miss Philipse spoken of an +offence to your name, for which I ought to receive +payment from you? Gad, she’d not have to speak +twice to make <i>me</i> draw!”</p> +<p>Colden continued to be as conventional as a virtuous +hero of a novel. “I do not fight in the +presence of ladies, sir,” said he.</p> +<p>“Nor I,” said Peyton. “Choose your own place, +in the garden yonder. With snow on the ground, +there’s light enough.”</p> +<p>And Harry went quickly, almost to the door, near +which he stopped to give Colden precedence.</p> +<p>“Nay,” put in Elizabeth, “we ladies can bear the +sight of a sword-cut or two. Wait for us,” and +she would have gone to send for wraps, but that +Colden raised his hand in token of refusal, saying:</p> +<p>“Nay, Elizabeth. I will not consent.”</p> +<p>“Come, sir,” said Peyton. “’Tis no use to oppose +a lady’s whim. But if you make haste, we +may have it over before they can arrive on the +ground.”</p> +<p>In handling his sword-hilt, Peyton had pulled the +weapon a few inches out of the scabbard, and now, +though he did not intend to draw while in the house, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247' name='page_247'></a>247</span> +he unconsciously brought out the full length of what +remained of the blade. For the time he had forgotten +the sword was broken, and now he was +reminded of it with some inward irritation.</p> +<p>Meanwhile Colden was answering:</p> +<p>“There’s no regularity in such a meeting. Where +are the seconds?”</p> +<p>“I’ll be your second, major,” cried Elizabeth. +“Aunt Sally, second Captain Peyton.”</p> +<p>“Ridiculous!” said the major.</p> +<p>“Anything to bring you out,” said Peyton, as +desirous of avenging himself on Elizabeth, through +her affianced, as she was to complete her own +revenge through the same instrument. “I’ll fight +you with half a sword. I’d forgotten ’tis all I’ve +left.”</p> +<p>“I would not take an advantage,” said the New +Yorker.</p> +<p>“Then break your own sword, and make us +equal,” said the Virginian.</p> +<p>“I value my weapon too much for that.”</p> +<p>Peyton smiled ironically. But he tried again.</p> +<p>“Then I shall be less scrupulous,” said he. “I +<i>will</i> take an advantage. The greater honor to you, +if you defeat me. You take the broken sword, and +lend me yours.”</p> +<p>He held out his hilt for exchange.</p> +<p>Colden pretended to laugh, saying:</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_248' name='page_248'></a>248</span></div> +<p>“Am I a fool to put it in your power to murder +me?”</p> +<p>“<i>I’ll</i> tell you what, gentlemen,” put in Elizabeth. +“Use the swords above the chimney-place, yonder. +They are equal.”</p> +<p>“Yes!” cried Peyton.</p> +<p>But Colden said:</p> +<p>“I will not so degrade myself as to cross swords, +except on the battle-field, with one who is a rebel, a +deserter, and no gentleman.”</p> +<p>Peyton turned to Elizabeth with a smile.</p> +<p>“Then you see, madam,” said he, “’tis no fault of +mine if my affronts go unpunished, since this gentleman +must keep his courage for the battle-field! +Egad,” he added, sacrificing truth for the sake of +the taunt, “you Tories need all the courage there +you can save up in a long time! I take my leave of +this house!”</p> +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_7' id='linki_7'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/i005.jpg' alt='' title='' width='323' height='500' /><br /> +<p class='caption'> +“‘I TAKE MY LEAVE OF THIS HOUSE!’”<br /> +</p> +</div> +<p>He thrust his sword back into the scabbard, bowed +rapidly and low, with a flourish of his hat, and went +out by the same door Elizabeth had used in her own +moment of triumph. He unbolted the outside door +himself, before black Sam could come from the settle +to serve him. Snowflakes rushed in at the open +door. He plunged into them, swinging the door +close after him. Out through the little portico he +went, down the walk outside the very parlor window +through which he had looked out awhile ago, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_249' name='page_249'></a>249</span> +but through which he did not now look in as he +passed; through the gate, and up the branch road to +the highway. He was possessed by a confusion of +thoughts and feelings,—temporary and superficial +elation at having put Elizabeth’s preferred lover in +so bad a light, wild ideas of some future crossing of +her path, swift dreams of a future conquest of her +in spite of all, a fierce desire for such action as +would lead to that end. He was eager to rejoin the +army now, to participate in the fighting that would +bring about the humbling of her cause and make it +the more in his power to master her. He heeded +little the snow that impeded his steps as his boots +sank into it, and which, in falling, blinded his eyes, +tickled his face, and clung to his hair. The tumult +of flakes was akin to that of his feelings, and he +was in mood for encountering such opposition as the +storm made to his progress.</p> +<p>Arriving at the post-road, he turned and went +northward. At his left lay the great lawn fronting +the manor-house, and separated from the road by +hedge and palings. He could see, across the snowy +expanse, between the dark trunks and whitened +branches of the trees, the long front of the manor-house, +its roof and its porticoes already covered with +snow, the light glowing in the one exposed window +of the east parlor. As he quieted down within, he +felt pleasantly towards the house, to which his week’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_250' name='page_250'></a>250</span> +half-solitary residence in it, with the comfort he had +enjoyed there and the books he had read, had given +him an attachment. He cast on it a last affectionate +look, then breasted the weather onward, wondering +what things the future might have in store for +him.</p> +<p>He had little fear of not reaching the American +lines in safety. It was unlikely that any of the enemy’s +marauders would be out on such a night, and +more unlikely that any regular military movement +would be making on the neutral ground. He expected +to meet no one on the road, but he would +keep a sharp lookout in all directions as he went, +and, in case of any human apparition, would take to +the fields or the woods. But all the world, thought +he, would stay within doors this white night.</p> +<p>Sliding back a part of every step he took in the +snow, he passed the boundary of the Philipse lawn, +and that of such part of the grounds as included, +with other appurtenances, the garden north of the +house. He had come, at last, to a place where the +fence at his left ended and the forest began. He +had, a moment before, cast a long look backward +to assure himself the road was empty behind him. +He now trudged on, his eyes fixed ahead.</p> +<p>From behind a low pine-tree, at the end of the +fence, two dark figures glided up to the captain’s +rear, their steps noiseless in the snow. One of them +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251' name='page_251'></a>251</span> +caught both his forearms at the same instant, and +pulled them back together, as with grips of iron. A +second pair of hands placed a noose about his wrists, +and quickly tightened it. Ere he could turn, his +first assailant released the bound arms to the second, +drew a pistol, and thrust the muzzle close to Peyton’s +cheek, whereupon the second man said:</p> +<p>“Your pardon, captain. Come quietly, or you’re +a dead man!”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252' name='page_252'></a>252</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIII_THE_UNEXPECTED' id='CHAPTER_XIII_THE_UNEXPECTED'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> +<h3>THE UNEXPECTED.</h3> +</div> +<p class='dropcap'><span class='dcap'>Peyton’s</span> somewhat elate exit from the parlor was +followed by a moment of silence and inertia on the +part of the three who remained there. But Elizabeth’s +chagrin was speedily translated into anger +against Major Colden.</p> +<p>“Why didn’t you fight him?” she demanded of +that gentleman, who was flinching inwardly, but who +maintained a pale and haughty exterior.</p> +<p>“What was the use?” he replied. “He’s reserved +for the gallows. If my two men were +here! Why not send your servants after him? +Sam is a powerful fellow, and Williams is shrewd +and strong.”</p> +<p>Elizabeth ignored Colden’s reply, and answered +her own question, thus:</p> +<p>“It was because you remembered the time he +disarmed you, three years ago.”</p> +<p>“You may think so, if you choose,” he replied, in +the patient manner of one who quietly endures unjust +reproaches when self-defence is useless.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_253' name='page_253'></a>253</span></div> +<p>“You will find refreshments in the dining-room,” +said Elizabeth, coldly. “Sam will show you to your +room.”</p> +<p>“I would rather remain with you,” he replied.</p> +<p>“I would rather be alone with my aunt a while.”</p> +<p>A deep sigh expressed his dejecting sense of how +futile it would be to oppose her.</p> +<p>“As you will,” he then said, and, bowing gravely, +left the parlor.</p> +<p>Elizabeth’s feelings now burst out.</p> +<p>“Oh,” she exclaimed to her aunt, “what a chicken-hearted +copy of a man! And he calls himself +a soldier! I wonder where he found the spirit to +volunteer!”</p> +<p>“From you, my dear,” replied Miss Sally. “Didn’t +you urge him to take a commission?”</p> +<p>“And that rebel fellow had the best of it all +through,” Elizabeth went on. “I was to see him +laid low by his rival, as my crowning revenge! +How he swaggered out! with what a look of triumph +in his eye! And—aunt Sally! He won’t +come back! I shall never see him again!”</p> +<p>“Why, child, do you wish to?”</p> +<p>“Of course not! But I can’t have him go away +with the laugh on his side! He made me ridiculous +after my trying to stab him with my love for the +other man. <i>Such</i> another man! Oh, the rebel +must come back!”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254' name='page_254'></a>254</span></div> +<p>“But he isn’t likely to,” said Miss Sally.</p> +<p>“Oh, what shall I do?” wailed the niece.</p> +<p>“Elizabeth, I’ll wager you’re still in love with +him!”</p> +<p>“I’m not! I hate him!—Well, what if I am? +He loved me, I’m sure, the last time he said it. +But, good heavens, he’s going farther away every +instant!”</p> +<p>She clasped her hands, and, for once, looked at +her aunt for help, like a distressed child on the verge +of weeping.</p> +<p>“Why don’t you call him back?” said Miss +Sally.</p> +<p>“I? Not if I die for want of seeing him!—I +know! I <i>will</i> send the servants after him.” And +she started for the door, but stopped at her aunt’s +comment:</p> +<p>“But that will be as bad as calling him yourself.”</p> +<p>“Not at all, you empty pate!” cried Elizabeth, +who had become, in a moment, all action. “While +he’s going around by the road, Williams and Sam +shall cut across the garden, lie in wait, and take him +by surprise. He has no weapon but a broken sword, +and they can make him prisoner. They shall bring +him back here bound, and he’ll think he’s to be turned +over to the British after all!”</p> +<p>“But what then?”</p> +<p>“Why, he shall be left alone here, well guarded, for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255' name='page_255'></a>255</span> +half an hour, and then I’ll happen in, give him an +opportunity to make love again, and I can yield +gracefully! Don’t you see?”</p> +<p>“Then you <i>do</i> love him?” said the aunt.</p> +<p>“I don’t know. However, I don’t love Jack Colden. +Not a word to him, of this! I’m going to give +orders to the men.”</p> +<p>As she entered the hall, she met Colden, who was +coming from the dining-room with Mr. Valentine. +The major had limited his refreshments to two +glasses of brandy and water, swallowed in quick succession. +Mr. Valentine, who was smoking his pipe, +held Colden fraternally by the arm.</p> +<p>“What, Elizabeth, are you still angry?” said Colden, +stopping as she passed.</p> +<p>“Excuse me, I have something to see to,” said the +girl, coolly, hurrying away from him.</p> +<p>He made a slight movement to follow her, but old +Valentine drew him into the parlor, saying:</p> +<p>“Come, major, you’ll see the lady enough after +she’s married to you. I was just going to say, the +last lot of tobacco I got—”</p> +<p>“Oh, damn your tobacco!” said the other, jerking +his arm from the old man’s tremulous grasp.</p> +<p>“Damn my tobacco?” echoed Mr. Valentine, quite +stupefied.</p> +<p>“Yes. I’ve matters more important on my mind +just now.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_256' name='page_256'></a>256</span></div> +<p>“The deuce!” cried the old man. “What could +be more important than tobacco?”</p> +<p>And he stood looking into the fire, muttering to +himself between furious puffs.</p> +<p>Colden sought comfort of Miss Sally. “Was ever +a woman as unreasonable as Elizabeth?” he said to +her. “She’d have had me lower myself to meet that +rebel vagabond as one gentleman meets another.”</p> +<p>But Miss Sally was not going to betray her own +disappointment by showing a change from her oft-expressed +opinion of the rebel captain,—particularly +in the presence of Mr. Valentine. So she +answered:</p> +<p>“You met him so once, three years ago.”</p> +<p>“I had a less scrupulous sense of propriety then,” +replied Colden, raging inwardly.</p> +<p>“But, as he’s a rebel and deserter,” pursued Miss +Sally, “was it not your duty as a soldier to take him, +just now?”</p> +<p>“I’d have done so, had my men been here,” +growled the major. “Elizabeth ought to’ve had +her servants hold him. I had half a mind to order +them, in the King’s name, but I never can bring myself +to oppose her, she’s so masterful! By George, +though, I’ll have him yet! My two fellows will soon +come up. They shall give chase. He will leave +tracks in the snow.”</p> +<p>Colden went to the window, and peered out as +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_257' name='page_257'></a>257</span> +Peyton himself had done not long before. The +flakes were coming down as thick as ever.</p> +<p>“I don’t see my rascals yet!” he muttered. +“They’ve stopped at the tavern, I’ll warrant.”</p> +<p>And he continued to gaze eagerly out, impatient +that his men should arrive before the new-fallen snow +should cover his enemy’s tracks.</p> +<p>Old Mr. Valentine, having exhausted his present +stock of mutterings, now walked over to Miss Sally, +who had sat down near the spinet.</p> +<p>“Miss Williams,” said he, “this is the first chance +I’ve had to speak to you alone in a week.”</p> +<p>“But we’re not alone,” said Miss Sally, motioning +her head towards Colden.</p> +<p>“He’s nobody,” contemptuously replied the octogenarian. +“A man that damns tobacco is nobody. +So you may go ahead and speak out. What’s your +answer, ma’am?”</p> +<p>“Oh, Mr. Valentine, not now! You must give +me time.”</p> +<p>“That’s what you said before,” he complained.</p> +<p>She had, indeed, said it before, scores of times.</p> +<p>“Well, give me more time, then,” she replied.</p> +<p>“How much?” asked the old man, in a matter-of-fact +way.</p> +<p>“Oh, I don’t know! Long enough for me to +make up my mind.”</p> +<p>Thus far, this conversation had followed in the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_258' name='page_258'></a>258</span> +exact lines of many that had preceded it, but now +Mr. Valentine made a departure from the customary +form.</p> +<p>“I think,” said he, “if my other two wives had +taken as long as you to make up their minds, I +shouldn’t have been twice a widower by now.”</p> +<p>“Oh, Mr. Valentine!” said Miss Sally, in a sweetly +reproachful way. “Now you know—”</p> +<p>But he cut her speech off short. “Very likely,” +said he. “I don’t know. Well, take your time. +Only please remember I haven’t so very much time +left! Better take me while I’m here to be had! +Good night, ma’am!” And he went to the dining-room +to fortify himself for his long homeward walk +through the snow.</p> +<p>In crossing the hall, he saw Cuff on the settle in +Sam’s place. In the dining-room he met Molly, who +was clearing the table of the supper that Colden had +disdained. He asked her the whereabouts of Williams, +and she replied that the steward and Sam had +gone out on some order of Miss Elizabeth’s. Deciding +to await Williams’s return, the old man sat down +before the dining-room fire, and was soon peacefully +snoring.</p> +<p>Elizabeth had gone up-stairs to watch from her +darkened window the issue of the expedition of +Williams and Sam, who had gone out by the kitchen, +equipped respectively with rope and pistol. While +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_259' name='page_259'></a>259</span> +they were in the immediate vicinity of the house, she +could not see them from her elevation, but presently +she beheld them glide swiftly across a white open +space in the garden, cross a stile, and disappear +among the trees and bushes between the garden +and the post-road. Turning her eyes to the road +itself, that lonely highway now called Broadway,<a href='#Footnote_0009' class='fnanchor'>[9]</a> she +made out a solitary figure toiling forward through +the whirling whiteness,—and she gave a sigh, the +deepest and longest with which her frame had ever +trembled.</p> +<p>Meanwhile Miss Sally remained in the parlor, +thinking it best not to go to Elizabeth unless sent +for; while Colden continued to stand at the window, +showing his impatience for the arrival of his two +soldiers in a tense contracting of the brow, in a +restless shifting from foot to foot, and in intermittent +stifled curses.</p> +<p>As he kept his eyes on the place where the branch +road left the highway, he did not see that part of the +lawn walk which led from the garden. But suddenly +a slight noise drew his look towards the portico +before the east hall.</p> +<p>“Who are these coming?” he cried, startling +Miss Sally out of her musings and her chair.</p> +<p>“Are they your men?” she asked, hastening to +join him at the window.</p> +<p>“No, mine are mounted,” said he. “Why,—these +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_260' name='page_260'></a>260</span> +are Williams and Sam,—and they are bringing,—yes, +it is he! They’re bringing him back +a prisoner! She has done it, after all, without +consulting me!” And he strode to the centre of +the room, in the utmost elation.</p> +<p>Miss Sally weakened at the imminent prospect of +a meeting between the two enemies in the changed +circumstances, and felt the need of her niece’s support.</p> +<p>“I must tell Elizabeth they have him,” she said, +and ran out to the east hall, and thence to the dining-room, +just in time to avoid seeing Peyton led in +through the outer door, which Cuff had opened at +Williams’s call.</p> +<p>The steward and Sam conducted their prisoner +immediately into the parlor. There Colden stood, +with a rancorously jubilant smile, to receive him.</p> +<p>Peyton’s wrists were as Williams had tied them. +He was without his hat, which had been knocked off +in a brief struggle he had essayed against his captors +in a moment when Sam had lowered the pistol. +There was a little fresh snow on his hair, and more +on his shoulders. The feet of his boots were cased +with it. His left arm was held by Williams, who +carried the broken sword, having taken it from the +scabbard at the first opportunity. Peyton’s other +arm was grasped by the huge, bony left hand of +Sam, who held the cocked pistol in his right. The +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_261' name='page_261'></a>261</span> +two men walked with him to the centre of the parlor, +and stopped.</p> +<p>“By George,” said he, turning his face towards +Sam, with fire in his eyes, “had the snow not killed +the sound of your sneaking footsteps till you’d caught +my arms behind, I’d have done for the two of you!”</p> +<p>“Good, Williams!” said Colden. “Place him on +that chair, and leave him here with me. But stay +in the hall on guard.”</p> +<p>“So Miss Elizabeth ordered us, sir,” said Williams, +dryly, and, with Sam, conducted Peyton to +the chair, on which he sat willingly.</p> +<p>“Of course she did,” replied Colden. “Was it +not at my suggestion?”</p> +<p>Peyton looked sharply up at the major, who regarded +him with the undisguised pleasure of hate +about to be satisfied.</p> +<p>Williams handed the broken sword to Colden, +saying, “This was the only weapon he had, sir. +We grabbed him before he could use it. We ran +out behind him from the roadside, and he couldn’t +hear us for the snow.”</p> +<p>“Ay, or the pair of you couldn’t have taken me!” +said Peyton, with hot scorn and defiant gameness.</p> +<p>Colden, with the piece of sword, motioned Williams +to go from the room.</p> +<p>“Leave the door ajar a little,” he added, “so you +can hear if I call.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_262' name='page_262'></a>262</span></div> +<p>Peyton uttered a short laugh of derision at this +piece of prudence. The steward and Sam withdrew +to the hall, where Sam remained, while Williams +went in search of Elizabeth for further orders. As +soon as she had assured herself, by watching and +listening, that Peyton was safe in the parlor, she +had stolen quietly down-stairs to the dining-room, +where she had met her aunt, with whom the steward +now found her sitting. She told him to get the +duck-gun, make sure it was loaded and primed, and +to wait with Sam on the settle in the hall. She +then requested her aunt to remain in the dining-room, +silently returned to the hall, and took station +by the door leading from the parlor,—the door +which Williams, at Colden’s command, had left +slightly ajar. Her original plan, she felt, might +have to be altered by reason of Colden’s having +obtruded his hand into the game, a possibility she +had not, in roughly sketching that plan, taken into +account. It was in order to have the guidance of +circumstance, that she now put herself in the way +of hearing, unseen, what might pass between the +two men. Meanwhile, through the snow-storm, +Colden’s two soldiers, who had indeed tarried at +the tavern for the heating up of their interiors, +were blasphemously urging their sleepy horses +towards the manor-house.</p> +<p>In the parlor, the two enemies were facing each +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_263' name='page_263'></a>263</span> +other, Peyton on his chair, his tied wrists behind +him, Colden standing at some distance from him, +holding the broken sword. As soon as they were +alone, Peyton uttered another one-syllabled laugh, +and said:</p> +<p>“The hospitality of this house beats my recollection. +One is always coming back to it.”</p> +<p>“You’ll not come back the next time you leave +it!” said Major Colden, his eyes glittering with +gratified rancor.</p> +<p>“And when shall that time be?” asked Peyton, +airily.</p> +<p>“As soon as two of my men arrive, whom I outrode +on my way hither to-night. They attended me +out of New York. I shall be generous and give +them over to you, to attend you <i>into</i> New York.”</p> +<p>“Thanks for the escort!”</p> +<p>“’Tis the only kind you rebels ever have, when +you enter New York,” sneered the major.</p> +<p>“We shall enter it with an escort of our own +choosing some day! And a sorry day that for +you Tories and refugees, my dear gentleman!”</p> +<p>“But if that day ever comes, <i>you’ll</i> have been +rotting underground a long time,—and thanks to +<i>me</i>, don’t forget that!”</p> +<p>“Thanks to <i>her</i>, you coward!” cried Peyton. +“’Twas she that sent her servants after me! You +didn’t dare try taking me, alone!”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_264' name='page_264'></a>264</span></div> +<p>“Bah!” said Colden, hotly, “I might have pistolled +you here to-night”—and he placed his hand +on the fire-arm in his belt—“but for the presence +of the ladies!”</p> +<p>“Was it the ladies’ presence,” retorted Peyton, +contemptuously, “or the fact that you’re a devilish +bad shot?”</p> +<p>Neither man heard the door moved farther open, +or saw Elizabeth step through the aperture to the +inner side of the threshold, where she stopped and +watched. Peyton’s back was towards her, and Colden’s +rage at the last words was too intense to +permit his eyes to rove from its object.</p> +<p>“Damn you!” cried the major. “I’d show you +how bad a shot I am, but that I’d rather wait and +see you on the gallows!”</p> +<p>“Will <i>she</i> come to see me there, I wonder?” said +Peyton, half thoughtfully. “She ought to, for it’s +her work sends me there, not yours! ’Twill not +be <i>your</i> revenge when they string me up, my jolly +friend!”</p> +<p>Taunted beyond all self-control, the Tory yelled:</p> +<p>“Not mine, eh? Then I’ll have mine now, you +dog!”</p> +<p>With that, he strode forward and struck Harry +a fierce blow across the face with the flat side of +Harry’s own broken sword.</p> +<p>Harry merely blinked his eyes, and did not flinch. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_265' name='page_265'></a>265</span> +He turned pale, then red, and in a moment, first +clearing his voice of a slight huskiness, said, quietly:</p> +<p>“That blow I charge against you both,—the lady +as well as you!”</p> +<p>Colden had stepped back some distance after +delivering the blow. Something in Harry’s answer +seemed to infuriate still further the devil awakened +in the Tory’s body, for he cried out:</p> +<p>“The lady as well as me,—yes! And this, too!”</p> +<p>And he advanced on Peyton, to strike a second +time.</p> +<p>“Stop! How dare you?”</p> +<p>The cry was Elizabeth’s. It startled Colden so +that he loosened his hold of the broken sword before +he could deliver the blow. At that instant, she +caught his arm in her one hand, the sword-guard in +her other. She tore the weapon from his grasp, and +faced him with a countenance as furious as his own.</p> +<p>“What do you mean?” he cried.</p> +<p>For answer she struck him in the face with the +flat of the sword, as he had struck Peyton. “You +sneak!” she said.</p> +<p>He recoiled, and stood staring, a ghastly image of +bewilderment and consternation. After a moment +he turned livid.</p> +<p>“Ah! I see now!” he gasped. “You love him!”</p> +<p>“Yes!” came the answer, prompt and decided.</p> +<p>He gazed at her with such an expression as a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_266' name='page_266'></a>266</span> +painter of hell might put into the face of a lost soul, +and he said, faintly, in a kind of articulate moan:</p> +<p>“I might have known!”</p> +<p>Suddenly there came from the outer night the +exclamation, quick and distinct:</p> +<p>“Whoa!”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_267' name='page_267'></a>267</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIV_THE_BROKEN_SWORD' id='CHAPTER_XIV_THE_BROKEN_SWORD'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> +<h3>THE BROKEN SWORD.</h3> +</div> +<p class='dropcap'><span class='dcap'>The</span> sound wrought a transformation in Colden. +His face lighted up with malevolent joy.</p> +<p>“You love too late!” he cried, to Elizabeth. “My +men are there! They shall take him to New York +a prisoner, at last!”</p> +<p>“But not delivered up by me, thank God!” replied +Elizabeth, while Peyton rose quickly from his chair, +and Colden reeled like a drunken man to the window.</p> +<p>She went behind Peyton, and, with the edge of +the broken sword, hacked rather than cut through +one of the outer windings that bound his wrists +together, whereupon she speedily uncoiled the rope.</p> +<p>“You were my prisoner. I set you free!” she +said, dropped the rope to the floor, and handed him +the broken sword.</p> +<p>He took the weapon in his right hand, and imprisoned +Elizabeth with his left arm.</p> +<p>“I’m more your prisoner now than ever!” he +said. “You’ve cut these bonds. Will you put +others on me?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_268' name='page_268'></a>268</span></div> +<p>“Sometime,—if we can save your life!” she +answered.</p> +<p>Both turned their eyes towards Colden.</p> +<p>The Tory officer had drawn his sword, and was +motioning, in great excitement, to his soldiers outside.</p> +<p>“This way, men!” he shouted. “To the front +door! Damn the louts! Can’t they understand?” +He beat upon the window with his sword, knocking +out panes of glass. “Come through that door, I say! +Quick, curse you, there’s a prisoner here, with a +price for his taking! Ay, that’s it! Some one in +the hall there, open the front door to my men!”</p> +<p>The sound now came of knocks bestowed on the +outside door, and of Sam’s heavy tread on the hall +floor.</p> +<p>“Williams! Sam!” shouted Elizabeth. “Don’t +let them in!”</p> +<p>The heavy tread was heard to stop short. The +knocking on the outer door was resumed.</p> +<p>“Let them in, I say,” roared Colden, too proud +to go himself to the door. “I command it, in the +name of the King!”</p> +<p>“Obey your mistress,” cried Peyton, to those in +the hall. “I command it, in the name of Congress!”</p> +<p>Colden was silent for a moment, then suddenly +threw open the window and called out, “This way, +men! Quick!”</p> +<p>And he drew pistol, and stood ready with steel +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_269' name='page_269'></a>269</span> +and ball to guard the window by which his men were +to enter. A new, wild ferocity was on his face, a +new, nervous hardness in his body, as if the latent +resolution and strength which a prudent man keeps +for a great contest, on which his all may depend, +were at last aroused. In such a mood, the man +who, governed by interest, may have seemed a coward +all his life becomes for the once supremely formidable. +At last he thinks the stake worth the +play, at last the prize is worth the risk, and because +it is so he will play and risk to the end, hazarding +all, not yielding while he breathes. Having opened +the theme which alone, of all themes, shall transform +his irresolution into action, he will, Hamlet like, +“fight upon this theme until” his “eyelids will no +longer wag.” So was Colden aroused, transfigured, +as he stood doubly armed by the window, waiting +for his men to clamber in.</p> +<p>“What shall we do, dear?” said Elizabeth.</p> +<p>“Fight!” replied Peyton, tightening at the same +time his right palm around his broken sword, and +his left around the hand she had let him take,—for +she had moved from the embrace of his arm.</p> +<p>“Ay, there are only two of them,” she said, as +two burly forms appeared in the open window, one +behind the other.</p> +<p>“There will be three of us, you’ll find!” cried +Colden. “This time I’ll take a hand, if need be.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_270' name='page_270'></a>270</span></div> +<p>“You must not stay here,” said Peyton to Elizabeth, +quickly. “Things will be flying loose in a +moment!”</p> +<p>“I won’t leave you!” said she.</p> +<p>“Go! I beg you, go!” he said, releasing her +hand, and stepping back.</p> +<p>Meanwhile, Colden’s men bounded in through the +window. Rough, sturdy fellows were they, who +landed heavily on the parlor floor, and blinked at the +light, drawing the while the breeches of their short +muskets from beneath their coats. Their hats and +shoulders were coated with snow.</p> +<p>“Take that rebel alive, if you can!” ordered Colden. +“He’s meant to hang! Stun him with your +musket-butts!”</p> +<p>The men quickly reversed their weapons, and +strode heavily towards Harry. To their surprise, +before they could bring down their muskets, which +required both hands of each to hold, Harry dashed +forward between them, thinking to cut down Colden +with his broken sword, possess himself of the latter’s +pistol, shoot one of the soldiers, and meet the other +on less unequal terms. He saw a possibility of his +leaping through the open window and fleeing on one +of the soldiers’ horses, but the idea was accompanied +by the thought that Elizabeth might be made to +suffer for his escape. Her safety now depended +on his getting the mastery over his three would-be +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_271' name='page_271'></a>271</span> +captors. So, ere the two astonished fellows could +turn, Harry had leaped within sword’s reach of his +doubly armed enemy.</p> +<p>But Colden was now as alert as rigid, and he +opposed his officer’s sword against Peyton’s broken +cavalry blade, guarding himself with unexpected swiftness, +and giving back, for Harry’s sweeping stroke, +a thrust which only the quickest and most dexterous +movement turned aside from entering the Virginian’s +lungs. As Harry stepped back for an instant out of +his adversary’s reach, the Tory raised his pistol. At +the same moment the two soldiers, having turned +about, rushed on Peyton from behind. He heard +them coming, and half turned to face them. Their +movement had for him one fortunate circumstance. +It kept Colden from shooting, for his bullet might +have struck one of his own men.</p> +<p>Now Elizabeth had not been idle. At the moment +when Harry had stepped back from her and +bade her go, she had run to the door of the east +hall, and called Williams and Sam. While Peyton +had been engaging Colden near the window, the +steward and the negro had entered the parlor, and +she had excitedly ordered them to Peyton’s aid. +Williams still had the duck-gun, Sam the pistol. +Thus it occurred that, as Peyton half turned from +Colden towards the two soldiers, these last-named +saw Williams and Sam rush in between them and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_272' name='page_272'></a>272</span> +their prey. Before Williams could bring his duck-gun +to bear, he was struck down senseless by one of +the musket blows first intended for Peyton. Another +blow, and from another musket, had been +aimed at Sam’s woolly head, but the negro had +put up his left hand and caught the descending +weapon, and at the same time had discharged his +pistol at the weapon’s holder. But Williams, in falling, +had knocked against the darky, and so disturbed +his aim, and the ball flew wide. The man +who had brought down Williams now struck Sam a +terrible blow with the musket-club, on the temple, +and the negro dropped like a felled ox.</p> +<p>During this brief passage, Peyton had returned to +close quarters with Colden. The latter, who had +lowered his pistol when his men had last approached +Peyton, and who had resumed the contest of swords +unequal in size and kind, now raised the pistol a +second time. But it was caught by the hands of +Elizabeth, who had run around to his left, and who +now, suddenly endowed with the strength of a +tigress, wrenched it from him as she had wrenched +the broken sword earlier in the evening. She tried +to discharge the pistol at one of the two soldiers, +as they, relieved of the brief interposition of Williams +and Sam, were again taking position to bring +down their muskets on Peyton’s head while he continued +at sword-work with Colden. But the pistol +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_273' name='page_273'></a>273</span> +snapped without going off, whereupon Elizabeth +hurled it in the face of the man at whom she had +aimed. The blow disconcerted him so that his musket +fell wide of Peyton, who at the same instant, having +seen from the corner of his eye how he was menaced, +leaped backward from under the other descending +musket. Then, taking advantage of the moment +when the muskets were down, he ran to the music +seat before the spinet, and mounted upon it, thinking +rightly that the infuriated major would follow him, +and that he might the better execute a certain +manœuvre from the vantage of height. Colden +indeed rushed after him, and thrust at him, Peyton +sweeping the thrusts aside with pendulum-like swings +of his own short weapon. His thought was to send +the point that menaced him so astray that he might +leap forward and cleave his enemy with a downward +stroke before the Tory could recover his guard. But +Colden pressed him so speedily that he was at last +fain to step up from the music seat to the spinet, +landing first on the keyboard, which sent out a +frightened discord as he alighted on it. Finding +the keys an uncertain footing, he took another step, +and stood on the body of the instrument, so that +Colden would be at the disadvantage of thrusting +upwards. But Colden, seeming to tire a little after +a few such thrusts, called to his men:</p> +<p>“Shoot the dog in the legs!”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_274' name='page_274'></a>274</span></div> +<p>Both men aimed at once. Elizabeth screamed. +Peyton leaped down from his height to the little +space behind the spinet projection, where he had +hidden a week before. Here he found himself well +placed, for here he could be approached on one side +only,—unless his adversaries should follow his example +and come at him from the top of the spinet.</p> +<p>Colden attacked him with sword, at the open side, +and shouted to his men:</p> +<p>“One of you get on the spinet. The other crawl +under. We have him now.”</p> +<p>Still guarding himself from his enemy’s thrusts, +Peyton heard one of the men leap from the music +seat to the spinet, and the other advance creeping, +doubtless with gun before him, under the instrument. +Peyton sank to his knees, placed his shoulder under +the back edge of the spinet’s projection, and, warding +off a downward movement of Colden’s sword, +turned the instrument over on its side, checking the +creeping man under it, and throwing the other fellow +to the floor some feet away. As the spinet fell, +one of its legs, rising swiftly into the air, knocked +Colden’s blade upward, and the Tory leaped back +lest Peyton might avail himself of the opening. But +the spinet-leg itself hindered Peyton from doing +so. Colden rushed forward again, thrusting as he +did so. Peyton leaped aside, made a swift half-turn, +and landed a stroke on Colden’s sword-hand, making +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_275' name='page_275'></a>275</span> +the Tory cry out and drop the sword. Harry put +his foot on it and cried:</p> +<p>“You’re at my mercy! Beg quarter!”</p> +<p>But the man who had been thrown from the top +of the spinet now returned to the attack, coming +around that end of the upset instrument which was +opposite the end where Colden had menaced Harry. +Seeing this new adversary, Harry retreated past +Colden, in order to put himself in position. The +soldier hastened after him, with upraised musket. +At this moment, Peyton saw himself confronted by +Elizabeth, who pulled open the door of the south +hall. He stopped short to avoid running against +her.</p> +<p>“Save yourself!” she cried, and pushed him +through the open doorway, flinging the door shut +upon him, a movement which the pursuing soldier, +stayed for a moment by collision with Colden, was +not in time to prevent. Harry heard the key move +in the lock, and knew that Elizabeth had turned it, +and that he was safe in the south hall, with a minute +of vantage which he might employ as he would.</p> +<p>Elizabeth withdrew the key from the locked door, +just as the pursuing soldier arrived at that door. +The man, in his excitement, violently tried to open +the door. Colden, who was wrapping a handkerchief +around his wounded hand, shouted to the man:</p> +<p>“You fool, she has the key! Take it from her!”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_276' name='page_276'></a>276</span></div> +<p>“You shall kill me first!” she cried, and ran from +the man towards the open window, stepping over the +prostrate bodies of Sam and Williams as she went.</p> +<p>“After her! She’ll throw it into the snow!” cried +Colden.</p> +<p>This much Harry heard through the door, and +heard also the heavy tread of the soldier’s feet in +pursuit of the girl. His mind imaged forth a momentary +picture of the fellow’s rough hands laid on the +delicate arms of Elizabeth, of her body clasped by +the man in a struggle, her white skin reddened by +his grasp. The spectacle, imaginary and lasting but +an instant, maddened Peyton beyond endurance, made +him a giant, a Hercules. He threw himself against +the door repeatedly, plied foot and body in heavy +blows. Meanwhile Elizabeth had reached the window, +and thrown the key far out on the snow-heaped +lawn. She had no sooner done so than the man laid +his clutch on her arm.</p> +<p>“Fly, Peyton, for God’s sake! For my sake!” +she shouted.</p> +<p>“You shall pay for aiding the enemy, if he does!” +cried Colden. “Don’t let her escape, Thompson!”</p> +<p>At that instant the locked door gave way, and in +burst Harry, having broken, to save Elizabeth from +a rude contact, the barrier she had closed to save his +life. That life, which he had once saved by callously +assailing her heart, he now risked, that her body +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_277' name='page_277'></a>277</span> +might not suffer the touch of an ungentle hand. So +swift and sudden was his entrance, that he had +crossed the room, and floored Elizabeth’s captor, with +a deep gash down the side of the head, ere Colden +made a step towards him.</p> +<p>The man who had been under the fallen spinet +had now extricated himself, and regained his feet, +and he and Colden rushed on Peyton at once. +Elated by having so speedily wrought Elizabeth’s +release, and reduced the number of his able adversaries +to two, Peyton bethought himself of a new +plan. He fled through the deep doorway to the east +hall, and took position on the staircase. He turned +just in time to parry Colden’s sword, which the +major had picked up and made shift to hold in his +wrapped-up, wounded hand. Harry saw that an +opportune stroke might send the sword from his +enemy’s numb and weakening grasp, and his heart +swelled with anticipated triumph, until he heard +Colden’s hoarse cry:</p> +<p>“Shoot him, James, while I keep him occupied!”</p> +<p>This order was now the more practicable from +Harry’s being on the stairs, above Colden, a great +part of his body exposed to an aim that could not +endanger his antagonist. Breathing heavily, his eyes +afire with hatred, Colden repeated his attacks, while +Harry saw the other’s musket raised, the barrel looking +him in the eyes. He leaped a step higher, swung +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_278' name='page_278'></a>278</span> +his broken sword against the pendent chandelier, +knocked the only burning candle from its socket, +and threw the hall into darkness. A moment later +the gun went off, giving an instant’s red flame, a +loud crack, and a smell of gunpowder smoke. +Harry heard a swift singing near his right ear, +and knew that he was untouched.</p> +<p>Lest Colden’s sword, thrust at random, might find +him in the dark, Harry instantly bestrode the stair-rail, +and dropped, outside the balustrade, to the floor +of the hall. He grasped his half-sword in both +hands, so as to put his whole weight behind it, and +made a lunge in the direction of a muttered curse. +The curse gave way to a roar of pain and rage, and +Colden’s second follower dropped, spurting blood in +the darkness, his shoulder gashed horribly by the +blunt end of Peyton’s imperfect weapon. Harry +now ran back to the parlor, to deal with Colden in +the light, the latter’s greater length of weapon giving +a greater searching-power in the darkness. In the +parlor Elizabeth stood waiting in suspense. Sam was +sitting on the floor and staring stupidly at Williams, +who was now awake and rubbing his head, and the +Tory first fallen was still senseless. Harry had no +sooner taken this scene in at a glance, than Colden +was upon him.</p> +<p>The major’s eyes seemed to stand out like blazing +carbuncles from the face of some deity of rage.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_279' name='page_279'></a>279</span></div> +<p>“G—d d—n your soul!” he screamed, and thrust. +The point went straight, and Elizabeth, seeing it +protrude through the back of Harry’s coat, near the +left side of his body, uttered a low cry, and sank +half-fainting to her knees. Colden shouted with +triumphant laughter. “Die, you dog! And when +you burn in hell, remember I sent you there!”</p> +<p>But the evil joy suddenly faded out of Colden’s +face, for Harry Peyton, smiling, took a forward step, +grasped near the hilt the sword that seemed to be +sheathed in his own body, forced it from Colden’s +hand, and then drew it slowly from its lodgment. +No blood discolored it, and none oozed from Harry’s +body.</p> +<p>The Virginian’s quick movement to escape the +thrust had left only a part of his loose-fitting coat +exposed, and Colden’s sword had passed through it, +leaving him unhurt. Colden’s momentary appearance +of victory had been the means of actual +defeat.</p> +<p>The Tory major saw his cup of revenge dashed +from his lips, saw himself deprived of sword and +sweetheart, neither chance left of living nor motive +left for life. His rage collapsed; his hate burst like +a bubble.</p> +<p>“Kill me,” he said, quietly, to Peyton.</p> +<p>His look, innocent of any thought to draw compassion, +quite disarmed Harry, who stood for a moment +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_280' name='page_280'></a>280</span> +with moistening eyes and a kind of welling-up at the +throat, then said, in a rather unsteady voice:</p> +<p>“No, sir! God knows I’ve taken enough from +you,” and he looked at Elizabeth, who had risen and +was standing near him. Softened by the triumphant +outcome for her love, she, too, was suddenly sensible +of the defeated man’s unhappiness, and her eyes +applauded and thanked Harry.</p> +<p>“You’ve taken what I never had,” said Colden, +with a chastened kind of bitterness, “yet without +which the life you give me back is worthless.”</p> +<p>“Make it worth something with this,” and Peyton +held Colden’s sword out to him.</p> +<p>“What! You will trust me with it?” said Colden, +amazed and incredulous, taking the sword, but +holding it limply.</p> +<p>“Certainly, sir!”</p> +<p>Colden was motionless a moment, then placed his +arm high against the doorway, and buried his face +against his arm, to hide the outlet of what various +emotions were set loose by his enemy’s display of +pity and trust.</p> +<p>Harry gently drew Elizabeth to him and kissed +her. Yielding, she placed her arms around his neck, +and held him for a moment in an embrace of her +own offering. Then she withdrew from his clasp, +and when Colden again faced them she had resumed +that invisible veil which no man, not even +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_281' name='page_281'></a>281</span> +the beloved, might pass through till she bade +him.</p> +<p>“You will find me worthy of your trust, sir,” said +Colden, brokenly, yet with a mixture of manly humility +and honorable pride.<a href='#Footnote_0010' class='fnanchor'>[10]</a></p> +<p>“I am so sure of that,” said Harry, “that I confide +to your care for a time what is dearest to me in +the world. I ask you to accompany Miss Philipse to +her home in New York, when it may suit her convenience, +and to see that she suffer nothing for what +has occurred here this night.”</p> +<p>“You are a generous enemy, sir,” said Colden, his +eyes moistening again. “One man in ten thousand +would have done me the honor, the kindness, of that +request!”</p> +<p>“Why,” said Harry, taking his enemy’s hand, as +if in token of farewell, “whatever be the ways of the +knaves, respectable and otherwise, who are so cautious +against tricks like their own, thank God it’s +not so rotten a world that a gentleman may not +trust a gentleman, when he is sure he has found +one!”</p> +<p>Turning to Elizabeth, he said: “I beg you will +leave this house at dawn, if you can. Williams and +Sam, there, will be little the worse for their knocks, +and can look after the fellows on the floor.”</p> +<p>“And you,” she replied, “must go at once. You +must not further risk your life by a moment’s waiting. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_282' name='page_282'></a>282</span> +Cuff shall saddle Cato for you. I sha’n’t rest +till I feel that you are far on your way.”</p> +<p>He approached as if again to kiss her, but she +held out her hand to stay him. He took the hand, +bent over it, pressed it to his lips.</p> +<p>“But,—” he said, in a tone as low as a whisper, +“when—”</p> +<p>“When the war is over,” she answered, softly, +“let Cato bring you back.”</p> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_283' name='page_283'></a>283</span></div> +<h2>NOTES.</h2> +<h3><span class='smcap'><a name='Footnote_0001' id='Footnote_0001'></a>Note 1.</span> (Page <a href='#page_41'>41</a>.)</h3> +<p>“The old county historian.” Rev. Robert Bolton, +born 1814, died 1877. His “History of the County of +Westchester,” especially the revised edition published +in 1881, is a rich mine of “material.” Among other +works that have served the author of this narrative in +a study of the period and place are Allison’s “History +of Yonkers,” Cole’s “History of Yonkers,” Edsall’s “History +of Kingsbridge,” Dawson’s “Westchester County +during the Revolution,” Jones’s “New York during the +Revolution,” Watson’s “Annals of New York in the +Olden Time,” General Heath’s “Memoirs,” Thatcher’s +“Memoirs,” Simcoe’s “Military Journal,” Dunlap’s “History +of New York,” and Mrs. Ellet’s “Domestic History +of the Revolution.” For an excellent description of the +border warfare on the “neutral ground,” the reader should +go to Irving’s delightful “Chronicle of Wolfert’s Roost.” +Cooper’s novel, “The Spy,” deals accurately with that subject, +which is touched upon also in that good old standby, +Lossing’s “Pictorial Field-book of the Revolution.” Philipse +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_284' name='page_284'></a>284</span> +Manor-house has been carefully written of by Judge +Atkins in a Yonkers newspaper, and less accurately by +Mrs. Lamb in her “History of New York City,” and +Marian Harland in “Some Colonial Homesteads and +Their Stories.” Of general histories, Irving’s “Life of +Washington” treats most fully of things around New York +during the British occupation, and these things are +interestingly dealt with in local histories, such as the +“History of Queens County,” Stiles’s “History of +Brooklyn,” Barber and Howe’s “New Jersey Historical +Collections,” etc., as well as in such special works as +Onderdonk’s “Revolutionary Incidents.”</p> +<h3><span class='smcap'><a name='Footnote_0002' id='Footnote_0002'></a>Note 2.</span> (Page <a href='#page_47'>47</a>.)</h3> +<p>Of Colonel Gist’s escape, Bolton gives the following +account: “The house was occupied by the handsome +and accomplished widow of the Rev. Luke Babcock, and +Miss Sarah Williams, a sister of Mrs. Frederick Philipse. +To the former lady Colonel Gist was devotedly attached; +consequently, when an opportunity afforded, he gladly +moved his command into that vicinity. On the night +preceding the attack, he had stationed his camp at the +foot of Boar Hill, for the better purpose of paying a special +visit to this lady. It is said that whilst engaged in +urging his suit the enemy were quietly surrounding his +quarters; he had barely received his final dismissal from +Mrs. Babcock when he was startled by the firing of musketry.... +It appears that all the roads and bridges had +been well guarded by the enemy, except the one now +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_285' name='page_285'></a>285</span> +called Warner’s Bridge, and that Captain John Odell +upon the first alarm led off his troops through the woods +on the west side of the Saw Mill [River]. Here Colonel +Gist joined them. In the meantime Mrs. Babcock, having +stationed herself in one of the dormer windows of the +parsonage, aided their escape whenever they appeared, +by the waving of a white handkerchief.”</p> +<p>The British attack was under Lieutenant-Colonel Simcoe, +whose journal shows that his force so far outnumbered +Gist’s that the latter’s only sensible course was in +flight. About the year 1840, trees cut down near the site +of Gist’s camp were found to contain balls buried six +inches in the wood.</p> +<h3><span class='smcap'><a name='Footnote_0003' id='Footnote_0003'></a>Note 3.</span> (Page <a href='#page_76'>76</a>.)</h3> +<p>The three generals arrived on the <i>Cerberus</i>, May 25th. +All the histories say that they arrived “with reinforcements.” +It is true, troops were constantly arriving at +Boston about that time, but none came immediately with +the three generals. The <i>Connecticut Gazette</i> (published in +New London) printed, early in June, this piece of news, +brought by a gentleman who had been in Boston, May +28th: “Generals Burgoyne, Clinton, and Howe arrived at +Boston last Friday in a man-of-war. No troops came +with them. They brought over 25 horses.” It is a wonder +that Frothingham, in his admirably complete history +of the siege of Boston, missed even this little circumstance. +Probably everybody has read the incident thus +related by Irving: “As the ships entered the harbor and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_286' name='page_286'></a>286</span> +the rebel camp was pointed out, Burgoyne could not restrain +a burst of surprise and scorn. ‘What!’ cried he; +‘ten thousand peasants keep five thousand King’s troops +shut up! Well, let us get in and we’ll soon find elbow +room!’” I don’t think Irving relates anywhere the sequel, +which is that when, after his surrender, Burgoyne +marched with his conquered army into Cambridge, an old +woman shouted from a window to the crowd of spectators, +“Give him elbow room!” This story ought to be true, if +it is not.</p> +<h3><span class='smcap'><a name='Footnote_0004' id='Footnote_0004'></a>Note 4.</span> (Page <a href='#page_89'>89</a>.)</h3> +<p>It was in a letter under date of October 4, 1778, that +Washington wrote: “What officer can bear the weight of +prices that every necessary article is now got to? A rat +in the shape of a horse is not to be bought for less than +£200; a saddle under thirty or forty.”</p> +<h3><span class='smcap'><a name='Footnote_0005' id='Footnote_0005'></a>Note 5.</span> (Page <a href='#page_124'>124</a>.)</h3> +<p>Captain Cunningham was the British provost marshal, +as everybody knows, whose name became a synonym for +wanton cruelty in the treatment of war prisoners. He +had come to New York before the Revolution, and had +kept a riding school there. As soon as the war broke out +he took the royal side. It was he who had in charge the +summary execution of Nathan Hale. He would often +amuse himself by striking his prisoners with his keys and +by kicking over the baskets of food or vessels of soup +brought for them by charitable women, who, he said, +were the worst rebels in New York. He died miserably +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_287' name='page_287'></a>287</span> +in England after the war. His career is briefly outlined +in Sabine’s “Loyalists.” As to the manner in which +Peyton, if caught, would have died, it must be remembered +that in the American Revolution the rope served in +many a case which, occurring in Europe or in one of our +later wars, would have been disposed of with the bullet. +Writing of General Charles Lee, John Fiske says: “There +is no doubt that Sir William Howe looked upon him as a +deserter, and was more than half inclined to hang him +without ceremony.” Then, as now, a deserter in time of +war was liable to death if caught at any subsequent time, +his case being worse than that of a spy, who was liable to +death only if caught before getting back to his own lines. +There was, by the way, much unceremonious hanging on +the “neutral ground.” Not far from the Van Cortlandt +mansion there still stood, in Bolton’s time, “a celebrated +white oak, in the midst of a pretty glade, called the Cowboy +Oak,” from the fact that many of the Tory raiders +had been suspended from its branches during the war of +Revolution.</p> +<h3><span class='smcap'><a name='Footnote_0006' id='Footnote_0006'></a>Note 6.</span> (Page <a href='#page_127'>127</a>.)</h3> +<p>I am not sure whether the saying, “The corpse of an +enemy smells sweet,” attributed to Charles IX. of France, +in allusion to Coligny, is historical or was the invention +of a romancer. It occurs in Dumas’s “La Reine Margot.”</p> +<h3><span class='smcap'><a name='Footnote_0007' id='Footnote_0007'></a>Note 7.</span> (Page <a href='#page_136'>136</a>.)</h3> +<p>Mr. Valentine’s unwillingness to lend aid was doubtless +due to the frequency of such incidents as one that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_288' name='page_288'></a>288</span> +had occurred to his neighbor, Peter Post, in 1776. Post’s +estate occupied the site of the present town of Hastings. +He gave information to Colonel Sheldon regarding the +movements of some Hessians, and afterwards deceived +the Hessians as to the whereabouts of Sheldon’s own +cavalry. Thereby, Sheldon’s troop was enabled to surprise +the Hessians, and defeat them in a short and bloody +conflict. The Hessians’ comrades later caught Post, +stripped him, beat him to insensibility, and left him for +dead. He recovered of his injuries. His house, a small +stone one, became a tavern after the Revolution, and was +a celebrated resort of cock-fighters and hard-drinkers. +Not far north of Hastings is Dobbs Ferry, which was +occupied by both armies alternately, during the Revolution. +Further north is Sunnyside, Irving’s house, elaborated +from the original Wolfert’s Roost, and beyond that +are Tarrytown, where André was stopped and taken in +charge, and Sleepy Hollow. Enchanted ground, all this, +hallowed by history, legend, and romance.</p> +<h3><span class='smcap'><a name='Footnote_0008' id='Footnote_0008'></a>Note 8.</span> (Page <a href='#page_179'>179</a>.)</h3> +<p>The secret passage or passages of Philipse Manor-house +have not been neglected by writers of fiction, +history, and magazine articles. The passage does not +now exist, but there are numerous traces of it. The +different writers do not agree in locating it. The author +of an interesting story for children, “A Loyal Little +Maid,” has it that the passage was reached through an +opening in the panelling of the dining-room, this opening +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_289' name='page_289'></a>289</span> +concealed by a tall clock. I think Marian Harland +says that a closet in one of the parlors or chambers +connects with the secret passage. Both these assumptions +are wrong. Mr. R. P. Getty has pointed out in the +northwestern corner of the cellar what seems to have +once been the entrance to the passage. One authority +quotes a belief “that from the cellar there was a passage +to a well now covered by Woodworth Avenue,” and that +this was to afford access to what may have been a storage +vault. A man who was born in 1821 says that, when a +boy, he saw, near the house, a dry cistern, from the +bottom of which was an arched passage towards the +Hudson, large enough for a man six feet tall to pass +through. Judge Atkins says that the well was opposite +the kitchen door, and had, at its western side, about ten +feet deep, a chamber in which butter was kept. One +writer locates an ice-house where Judge Atkins places +this well, and says a subterranean arched way led northward +as far as the present Wells Avenue. “The ice-house +was formerly, it is said, a powder-magazine.” +Many years ago, the coachman of Judge Woodworth +used to say he had “gone through an underground passage +all the way from the manor-house to the Hudson +River.” Judge Atkins has written interesting legends of +the manor-house, involving the secret passage and other +features.</p> +<h3><span class='smcap'><a name='Footnote_0009' id='Footnote_0009'></a>Note 9.</span> (Page <a href='#page_259'>259</a>.)</h3> +<p>“That lonely highway now called Broadway.” A +block of houses and another street now lie between that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_290' name='page_290'></a>290</span> +highway and the east front of the manor-house. The +building is closely hemmed in by the sordid signs of +progress. Ugly houses, in crowded blocks, cover all the +great surrounding space that once was thick forest, fair +orchards, gardens, fields, and pastoral rivulet. The +Neperan or Saw Mill River flows, sluggish and scummy, +under streets and houses. A visit to the manor-house, +now, would spoil rather than improve one’s impression +of what the place looked like in the old days. Yet the +house itself remains well preserved, for which all honor +to the town of Yonkers. There is in our spacious +America so much room for the present and the future, +that a little ought to be kept for the past. It is well to +be reminded, by a landmark here and there, of our brave +youth as a people. A posterity, sure to value these +landmarks more than this money-grabbing age does, +will reproach us with the destruction we have already +wrought. Worse still than the crime of obliterating all +human-made relics of the past, is the vandalism of nature +herself where nature is exceptionally beautiful. To rob +millions of beauty-lovers, yet to live, of the Palisades of the +Hudson, would bring upon us the amazement and execration +of future centuries. This earth is an entailed estate, +that each generation is in honor bound to hand down, +undefaced, undiminished, to its successor. In order that +a close-clutched wallet or two may wax a little fatter, +shall we bring upon ourselves a cry of shame that would +ring with increasing bitterness through the ages,—shall +we invite the execration merited by such greed as could +so outrage our fair earth, such stolid apathy as could +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_291' name='page_291'></a>291</span> +stand by and see it done? Shall an alien or two, as +hard of soul as the stone in which he traffics, mar the +Hudson that Washington patrolled, rob countless eyes, +yet unopened, of a joy; countless minds, yet to waken, of +an inspiration; countless hearts, yet to beat, of a thrill +of pride in the soil of their inheriting? Shall some future +reader wonder why Irving, deeming it “an invaluable +advantage to be born and brought up in the neighborhood +of some grand and noble object in nature,” should +have thanked God he was born on the banks of the +Hudson? I write this with the sound of the blowing up +of Indian Head still echoing in my ears, and knowing +nothing done by Government to protect the next fair +Hudson headland from similar destruction.</p> +<h3><span class='smcap'><a name='Footnote_0010' id='Footnote_0010'></a>Note 10.</span> (Page <a href='#page_281'>281</a>.)</h3> +<p>It is probable that Colden served with his brigade +when it fought in the South in the last part of the war. +He was afterwards lost at sea, leaving no heir. He was +of a family prominent in New York affairs, both before +the Revolution and afterwards, and which was intermarried +with other New York families of equal prominence, +as may be seen in the “New York Genealogical and Biographical +Record,” the “New England Genealogical and +Historical Register,” and similar publications. It is probable +that Sabine means this Colden when he mentions a +Captain Colden, of the First Battalion of New Jersey +Volunteers. That he was a major, however, is certain, +from the official British Army lists published in Hugh +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_292' name='page_292'></a>292</span> +Gaines’s “Universal Register” for the years of the Revolution.</p> +<p>People curious about Harry Peyton’s military record +may consult Saffel’s “Lists of American Officers,” +Heitman’s “Manual,” and a large work on “Virginia +Genealogies,” by H. E. Hayden, published at Wilkes-barre. +To the reader who demands a happy ending, it +need be no shock to learn that Peyton, having risen to +the rank of major, was killed at Charleston, S. C., May +12, 1780. For a love story, it is a happy ending that +occurs at the moment when the conquest and the submission +are mutual, complete, and demonstrated. A +love to be perfect, to have its sweetness unembittered, +ought not to be subjected to the wear and tear of prolonged +fellowship. So subjected, it may deepen and gain +ultimate strength, but it will lose its intoxicating novelty, +and become associated with pain as well as with pleasure. +We may be sure that the love of Peyton and Elizabeth +was to Harry a sweetener of life on many a night encampment, +many a hard ride, in the campaign of 1779, and +in the spring of 1780, and exalted him the better to meet +his death on that day when Charleston fell to the British; +and that to Elizabeth, while it receded into further memory, +it kept its full beauty during the half century she +lived faithful to it. Her sisters were married into the +English nobility, gentry, and military, but Elizabeth died +in Bath, England, in March, 1828, unmarried. Colonel +Philipse had moved with his family to England when the +British quitted New York in 1783. Many other Tories +did likewise. Some went to England, but more to Canada, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_293' name='page_293'></a>293</span> +the greater part of which was then a wilderness. Many +of the Tory officers got commissions in the English +army.</p> +<p>No Tory family did more for the King’s cause in +America, lost more, or got more in redress, than the De +Lancey family, which had been foremost in the administration +of royal government in the province of New York. +It had great holdings of property in New York City, elsewhere +on the island of Manhattan, and in various parts +of Westchester County, notably in Westchester Township, +where De Lancey’s mills and a fine country mansion were +a famous landmark “where gentle Bronx clear winding +flows.” The founder of the American family was a +French Huguenot of noble descent. The family was +represented in the British army and navy before the Revolution. +One member of it, a young officer in the navy, +at the breaking out of the war, resigned his commission +rather than serve against the Colonies, but most of the +other De Lancey men were differently minded. Oliver +De Lancey, a member of the provincial council, was made +a brigadier-general in the royal service, and raised three +battalions of loyalists, known as “De Lancey’s Battalions.” +Of these battalions, the Tory historian, Judge +Jones, says: “Two served in Georgia and the Carolinas +from the time the British army landed in Georgia until the +final evacuation of Charleston.” One of these, during this +period, was commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel Stephen +De Lancey, the other by Colonel John Harris Cruger. +The third battalion, during the whole war, was employed +solely in protecting the wood-cutters upon Lloyd’s Neck, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_294' name='page_294'></a>294</span> +Queens County, L. I. This General De Lancey’s son, +Oliver De Lancey, Junior, was educated in Europe, took +service with the 17th Light Dragoons, was a captain when +the Revolution began, a major in 1778, a lieutenant-colonel +in 1781, and, on the death of Major André, +adjutant-general of the British army in America. Returning +to England, he became deputy adjutant-general of +England; as a major-general, he was also colonel of the +17th Light Dragoons; was subsequently barrack-master +general of the British Empire, lieutenant-general, and +finally general. When he died he was nearly at the head +of the English army list. This branch of the family +became extinct when Sir William Heathcoate De Lancey, +the quartermaster-general of Wellington’s army, was +killed at Waterloo.</p> +<p>The James De Lancey who commanded the Westchester +Light Horse was a nephew of the senior General Oliver +De Lancey, and a cousin of the Major Colden of this narrative. +His troop was not “a battalion in the brigade of +his uncle,” Bolton’s statement that it was so being incorrect; +its operations were limited to Westchester County. +It raided and fought for the King untiringly, until it was +almost entirely killed off, at the end of the war, by the +persistent efforts of our troops to extirpate it.</p> +<p>The members of this corps were called “Cowboys” +because, in their duty of procuring supplies for the +British army, they made free with the farmers’ cattle. +Like the other conspicuous Tories, this James De Lancey +was attainted by the new State Government, and his property +was confiscated. Local historians draw an effective +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_295' name='page_295'></a>295</span> +picture of him departing alone from his estate by the +Bronx, turning for a last look, from the back of his horse, +at the fair mansion and broad lands that were to be his +no more, and riding away with a heavy heart. He went, +with many shipfuls of Tory emigrants, to Nova Scotia, +and became a member of the council of that colony. +His uncle went to England and died at his country house, +Beverly, Yorkshire, in 1785. I allude to the case of this +family, because it was typical of that of a great many +families. The Tories of the American Revolution constitute +a subject that has yet to be made much of. They +were the progenitors of English-speaking Canada.</p> +<p>The act of attainder that deprived the De Lanceys of +their estates, deprived Colonel Philipse of his. It was +passed by the New York legislature, October 22, 1779. The +persons declared guilty of “adherence to the enemies of +the State” were attainted, their estates real and personal +confiscated, and themselves proscribed, the second section +of the act declaring that “each and every one of +them who shall at any time hereafter be found in any +part of this State, shall be, and are hereby, adjudged and +declared guilty of felony, and shall suffer death as in +cases of felony, without benefit of clergy.” Acts of similar +import were passed in other States. Under this act, +Philipse Manor-house was forfeited to the State about +a year after the time of our narrative. The commissioners +whose duty it was to dispose of confiscated property +sold the house and mills, in 1785, to Cornelius P. +Lowe. It underwent several transfers, but little change, +becoming at length the property of Lemuel Wells, who +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_296' name='page_296'></a>296</span> +held it a long time and, dying in 1842, left it to his +nephew. The town of Yonkers grew up around it, and +on May 1, 1868, purchased it for municipal use. The +fewest possible alterations were made in it. These are +mainly in the north wing, the part added by the second +lord of the manor in 1745. On the first floor, the partition +between dining-room and kitchen was removed, +and the whole space made into a court-room. On the +second floor, the space formerly divided into five bedrooms +was transformed into a council-chamber, the garret +floor overhead being removed. The new city hall of +Yonkers leaves the old manor-house less necessary for +public purposes. May the old parlors, where the besilked +and bepowdered gentry of the province used to dance the +minuet before the change of things, not be given over to +baser uses than they have already served.</p> +<p>Allusion has been made, in different chapters of this +narrative, to the Hessians who daily patrolled the roads +in the vicinity of the manor-house. This duty often fell +to Pruschank’s yagers, the troop to which belonged Captain +Rowe, whose love story is thus told by Bolton: +“Captain Rowe appears to have been in the habit of +making a daily tour from Kingsbridge, round by Miles +Square. He was on his last tour of military duty, having +already resigned his commission for the purpose of +marrying the accomplished Elizabeth Fowler, of Harlem, +when, passing with a company of light dragoons, he was +suddenly fired upon by three Americans of the water +guard of Captain Pray’s company, who had ambuscaded +themselves in the cedars. The captain fell from his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_297' name='page_297'></a>297</span> +horse, mortally wounded. The yagers instantly made +prisoners of the undisciplined water guards, and a messenger +was immediately despatched to Mrs. Babcock, +then living below, in the parsonage, for a vehicle to remove +the wounded officer. The use of her gig and horse +was soon obtained, and a neighbor, Anthony Archer, +pressed to drive. In this they conveyed the dying man +to Colonel Van Cortlandt’s. They appear to have taken +the route of Tippett’s Valley, as the party stopped at +Frederick Post’s to obtain a drink of water. In the +meantime an express had been forwarded to Miss Fowler, +his affianced bride, to hasten without delay to the side of +her dying lover. On her arrival, accompanied by her +mother, the expiring soldier had just strength enough +left to articulate a few words, when he sank exhausted +with the effort.” The room in which he died is in the +well-known mansion in Van Cortlandt Park.</p> +<p>The incident of the horse, related in an early chapter, +has a likeness to an adventure that befell one Thomas +Leggett early in the Revolutionary war. He lived with +his father on a farm near Morrisania, then in Westchester +County, and was proud in the possession of a fine young +mare. A party of British refugees took this animal, with +other property. They had gone two miles with it, when, +from behind a stone wall which they were passing, two +Continental soldiers rose and fired at them. The man +with the mare was shot dead. The animal immediately +turned round and ran home, followed by the owner, who +had dogged her captors at a distance in the hope of +recovering her.</p> +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><i>SELECTIONS FROM<br /> +L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY’S<br /> +LIST OF NEW FICTION.</i></h2> +<p class='adbook'>An Enemy to the King.</p> +<p>From the Recently Discovered Memoirs of the +Sieur de la Tournoire. By <span class='smcap'>Robert Neilson Stephens</span>. +Illustrated by H. De M. Young.</p> +<p class='adprice'>1 vol., library 12mo, cloth <span class="ralign"><b>$1.25</b></span></p> +<blockquote> +<p>An historical romance of the sixteenth century, describing +the adventures of a young French nobleman at the Court of +Henry IV., and on the field with Henry of Navarre.</p> +</blockquote> +<p class='adbook'>The Continental Dragoon.</p> +<p>A Romance of Philipse Manor House, in 1778. +By <span class='smcap'>Robert Neilson Stephens</span>, author of “An Enemy +to the King.” Illustrated by H. C. Edwards.</p> +<p class='adprice'>1 vol., library 12mo, cloth <span class="ralign"><b>$1.50</b></span></p> +<blockquote> +<p>A stirring romance of the Revolution, the scene being laid in +and around the old Philipse Manor House, near Yonkers, which +at the time of the story was the central point of the so-called +“neutral territory” between the two armies.</p> +</blockquote> +<p class='adbook'>Muriella; or, Le Selve.</p> +<p>By <span class='smcap'>Ouida</span>. Illustrated by M. B. Prendergast.</p> +<p class='adprice'>1 vol., library 12mo, cloth <span class="ralign"><b>$1.25</b></span></p> +<blockquote> +<p>This is the latest work from the pen of the brilliant author of +“Under Two Flags,” “Moths,” etc., etc. It is the story of the +love and sacrifice of a young peasant girl, told in the absorbing +style peculiar to the author.</p> +</blockquote> +<p class='adbook'>The Road to Paris.</p> +<p>By <span class='smcap'>Robert Neilson Stephens</span>, author of “An +Enemy to the King,” “The Continental Dragoon,” +etc. Illustrated by H. C. Edwards. (In press.)</p> +<p class='adprice'>1 vol., library 12mo, cloth <span class="ralign"><b>$1.50</b></span></p> +<blockquote> +<p>An historical romance, being an account of the life of an +American gentleman adventurer of Jacobite ancestry, whose +family early settled in the colony of Pennsylvania. The scene +shifts from the unsettled forests of the then West to Philadelphia, +New York, London, Paris, and, in fact, wherever a love of +adventure and a roving fancy can lead a soldier of fortune. +The story is written in Mr. Stephens’s best style, and is of +absorbing interest.</p> +</blockquote> +<p class='adbook'>Rose à Charlitte.</p> +<p>An Acadien Romance. By <span class='smcap'>Marshall Saunders</span>, +author of “Beautiful Joe,” etc. Illustrated by H. +De M. Young.</p> +<p class='adprice'>1 vol., library 12mo, cloth <span class="ralign"><b>$1.50</b></span></p> +<blockquote> +<p>In this novel, the scene of which is laid principally in the land +of Evangeline, Marshall Saunders has made a departure from +the style of her earlier successes. The historical and descriptive +setting of the novel is accurate, the plot is well conceived +and executed, the characters are drawn with a firm and delightful +touch, and the fortunes of the heroine, Rose à Charlitte, a +descendant of an old Acadien family, will be followed with +eagerness by the author’s host of admirers.</p> +</blockquote> +<p class='adbook'>Bobbie McDuff.</p> +<p>By <span class='smcap'>Clinton Ross</span>, author of “The Scarlet Coat,” +“Zuleika,” etc. Illustrated by B. West Clinedinst.</p> +<p class='adprice'>1 vol., large 16mo, cloth <span class="ralign"><b>$1.00</b></span></p> +<blockquote> +<p>Clinton Ross is well known as one of the most promising of +recent American writers of fiction, and in the description of the +adventures of his latest hero, Bobbie McDuff, he has repeated +his earlier successes. Mr. Ross has made good use of the +wealth of material at his command. New York furnishes him +the hero, sunny Italy a heroine, grim Russia the villain of the +story, while the requirements of the exciting plot shift the scene +from Paris to New York, and back again to a remote, almost +feudal villa on the southern coast of Italy.</p> +</blockquote> +<p class='adbook'>In Kings’ Houses.</p> +<p>A Romance of the Reign of Queen Anne. By +<span class='smcap'>Julia C. R. Dorr</span>, author of “A Cathedral Pilgrimage,” +etc. Illustrated by Frank T. Merrill.</p> +<p class='adprice'>1 vol., library 12mo, cloth <span class="ralign"><b>$1.50</b></span></p> +<blockquote> +<p>Mrs. Dorr’s poems and travel sketches have earned for her a +distinct place in American literature, and her romance, “In +Kings’ Houses,” is written with all the charm of her earlier +works. The story deals with one of the most romantic episodes +in English history. Queen Anne, the last of the reigning +Stuarts, is described with a strong, yet sympathetic touch, and +the young Duke of Gloster, the “little lady,” and the hero of +the tale, Robin Sandys, are delightful characterizations.</p> +</blockquote> +<p class='adbook'>Sons of Adversity.</p> +<p>A Romance of Queen Elizabeth’s Time. By <span class='smcap'>L. +Cope Conford</span>, author of “Captain Jacobus,” etc. +Illustrated by J. W. Kennedy.</p> +<p class='adprice'>1 vol., library 12mo, cloth <span class="ralign"><b>$1.25</b></span></p> +<blockquote> +<p>A tale of adventure on land and sea at the time when Protestant +England and Catholic Spain were struggling for naval +supremacy. Spanish conspiracies against the peace of good +Queen Bess, a vivid description of the raise of the Spanish +siege of Leyden by the combined Dutch and English forces, +sea fights, the recovery of stolen treasure, are all skilfully woven +elements in a plot of unusual strength.</p> +</blockquote> +<p class='adbook'>The Count of Nideck.</p> +<p>From the French of Erckman-Chatrian, translated +and adapted by <span class='smcap'>Ralph Browning Fiske</span>. Illustrated +by Victor A. Searles.</p> +<p class='adprice'>1 vol., library 12mo, cloth <span class="ralign"><b>$1.25</b></span></p> +<blockquote> +<p>A romance of the Black Forest, woven around the mysterious +legend of the Wehr Wolf. The plot has to do with the later +German feudal times, is brisk in action, and moves spiritedly +from start to finish. Mr. Fiske deserves a great deal of credit +for the excellence of his work. No more interesting romance +has appeared recently.</p> +</blockquote> +<p class='adbook'>The Making of a Saint.</p> +<p>By <span class='smcap'>W. Somerset Maugham</span>. Illustrated by Gilbert +James.</p> +<p class='adprice'>1 vol., library 12mo, cloth <span class="ralign"><b>$1.50</b></span></p> +<blockquote> +<p>“The Making of a Saint” is a romance of Mediæval Italy, the +scene being laid in the 15th century. It relates the life of a +young leader of Free Companions who, at the close of one of +the many petty Italian wars, returns to his native city. There +he becomes involved in its politics, intrigues, and feuds, and +finally joins an uprising of the townspeople against their lord. +None can resent the frankness and apparent brutality of the +scenes through which the hero and his companions of both +sexes are made to pass, and many will yield ungrudging praise +to the author’s vital handling of the truth. In the characters +are mirrored the life of the Italy of their day. The book will +confirm Mr. Maugham’s reputation as a strong and original +writer.</p> +</blockquote> +<p class='adbook'>Omar the Tentmaker.</p> +<p>A Romance of Old Persia. By <span class='smcap'>Nathan Haskell +Dole</span>. Illustrated. (In press.)</p> +<p class='adprice'>1 vol., library 12mo, cloth <span class="ralign"><b>$1.50</b></span></p> +<blockquote> +<p>Mr. Dole’s study of Persian literature and history admirably +equips him to enter into the life and spirit of the time of the +romance, and the hosts of admirers of the inimitable quatrains +of Omar Khayyam, made famous by Fitzgerald, will be deeply +interested in a tale based on authentic facts in the career of the +famous Persian poet. The three chief characters are Omar +Khayyam, Nizam-ul-Mulk, the generous and high-minded Vizier +of the Tartar Sultan Malik Shah of Mero, and Hassan ibu +Sabbah, the ambitious and revengeful founder of the sect of +the Assassins. The scene is laid partly at Naishapur, in the +Province of Khorasan, which about the period of the First +Crusade was at its acme of civilization and refinement, and +partly in the mountain fortress of Alamut, south of the Caspian +Sea, where the Ismailians under Hassan established themselves +towards the close of the 11th century. Human nature is +always the same, and the passions of love and ambition, of +religion and fanaticism, of friendship and jealousy, are admirably +contrasted in the fortunes of these three able and remarkable +characters as well as in those of the minor personages of +the story.</p> +</blockquote> +<p class='adbook'>Captain Fracasse.</p> +<p>A new translation from the French of Gotier. Illustrated +by Victor A. Searles.</p> +<p class='adprice'>1 vol., library 12mo, cloth <span class="ralign"><b>$1.25</b></span></p> +<blockquote> +<p>This famous romance has been out of print for some time, +and a new translation is sure to appeal to its many admirers, +who have never yet had any edition worthy of the story.</p> +</blockquote> +<p class='adbook'>The Rejuvenation of Miss Semaphore.</p> +<p>A farcical novel. By <span class='smcap'>Hal Godfrey</span>. Illustrated +by Etheldred B. Barry. (In press.)</p> +<p class='adprice'>1 vol., library 12mo, cloth <span class="ralign"><b>$1.25</b></span></p> +<blockquote> +<p>A fanciful, laughable tale of two maiden sisters of uncertain +age who are induced, by their natural longing for a return to +youth and its blessings, to pay a large sum for a mystical water +which possesses the value of setting backwards the hands of +time. No more delightfully fresh and original book has appeared +since “Vice Versa” charmed an amused world. It is +well written, drawn to the life, and full of the most enjoyable +humor.</p> +</blockquote> +<p class='adbook'>Midst the Wild Carpathians.</p> +<p>By <span class='smcap'>Maurus Jokai</span>, author of “Black Diamonds,” +“The Lion of Janina,” etc. Authorized translation +by R. Nisbet Bain. Illustrated. (In press.)</p> +<p class='adprice'>1 vol., library 12mo, cloth <span class="ralign"><b>$1.25</b></span></p> +<blockquote> +<p>A thrilling, historical, Hungarian novel, in which the extraordinary +dramatic and descriptive powers of the great Magyar +writer have full play. As a picture of feudal life in Hungary it +has never been surpassed for fidelity and vividness. The translation +is exceedingly well done.</p> +</blockquote> +<p class='adbook'>The Golden Dog.</p> +<p>A Romance of Quebec. By <span class='smcap'>William Kirby</span>. New +authorized edition. Illustrated by J. W. Kennedy.</p> +<p class='adprice'>1 vol., library 12mo, cloth <span class="ralign"><b>$1.25</b></span></p> +<blockquote> +<p>A powerful romance of love, intrigue, and adventure in the +time of Louis XV. and Mme. de Pompadour, when the French +colonies were making their great struggle to retain for an ungrateful +court the fairest jewels in the colonial diadem of +France.</p> +</blockquote> +<p class='adbook'>Bijli the Dancer.</p> +<p>By <span class='smcap'>James Blythe Patton</span>. Illustrated by Horace +Van Rinth. (In press.)</p> +<p class='adprice'>1 vol., library 12mo, cloth <span class="ralign"><b>$1.50</b></span></p> +<blockquote> +<p>A novel of Modern India. The fortunes of the heroine, +an Indian Naucht girl, are told with a vigor, pathos, and a +wealth of poetic sympathy that makes the book admirable from +first to last.</p> +</blockquote> +<p class='adbook'>“To Arms!”</p> +<p>Being Some Passages from the Early Life of Allan +Oliphant, Chirurgeon, Written by Himself, and now +Set Forth for the First Time. By <span class='smcap'>Andrew Balfour</span>. +Illustrated. (In press.)</p> +<p class='adprice'>1 vol., library 12mo, cloth <span class="ralign"><b>$1.50</b></span></p> +<blockquote> +<p>A romance dealing with an interesting phase of Scottish and +English history, the Jacobite Insurrection of 1715, which will +appeal strongly to the great number of admirers of historical +fiction. The story is splendidly told, the magic circle which +the author draws about the reader compelling a complete +forgetfulness of prosaic nineteenth century life.</p> +</blockquote> +<p class='adbook'>Mere Folly.</p> +<p>A novel. By <span class='smcap'>Maria Louise Poole</span>, author of “In a +Dike Shanty,” etc. Illustrated. (In press.)</p> +<p class='adprice'>1 vol., library 12mo, cloth <span class="ralign"><b>$1.25</b></span></p> +<blockquote> +<p>An extremely well-written story of modern life. The interest +centres in the development of the character of the heroine, a +New England girl, whose high-strung temperament is in constant +revolt against the confining limitations of nineteenth +century surroundings. The reader’s interest is held to the end, +and the book will take high rank among American psychological +novels.</p> +</blockquote> +<p class='adbook'>A Hypocritical Romance <span style="font-weight: normal">and other +stories.</span></p> +<p>By <span class='smcap'>Caroline Ticknor</span>. Illustrated by J. W. Kennedy.</p> +<p class='adprice'>1 vol., large 16mo, cloth <span class="ralign"><b>$1.00</b></span></p> +<blockquote> +<p>Miss Ticknor, well known as one of the most promising of +the younger school of American writers, has never done better +work than in the majority of these clever stories, written in a +delightful comedy vein.</p> +</blockquote> +<p class='adbook'>Cross Trails.</p> +<p>By <span class='smcap'>Victor Waite</span>. Illustrated. (In press.)</p> +<p class='adprice'>1 vol., library 12mo, cloth <span class="ralign"><b>$1.50</b></span></p> +<blockquote> +<p>A Spanish-American novel of unusual interest, a brilliant, +dashing, and stirring story, teeming with humanity and life. +Mr. Waite is to be congratulated upon the strength with which +he has drawn his characters.</p> +</blockquote> +<p class='adbook'>A Mad Madonna <span style="font-weight: normal">and other stories.</span></p> +<p>By <span class='smcap'>L. Clarkson Whitelock</span>, with eight half-tone +illustrations.</p> +<p class='adprice'>1 vol., large 16mo, cloth <span class="ralign"><b>$1.00</b></span></p> +<blockquote> +<p>A half dozen remarkable psychological stories, delicate in +color and conception. Each of the six has a touch of the supernatural, +a quick suggestion, a vivid intensity, and a dreamy +realism that is matchless in its forceful execution.</p> +</blockquote> +<p class='adbook'>On the Point.</p> +<p>A Summer Idyl. By <span class='smcap'>Nathan Haskell Dole</span>, author +of “Not Angels Quite,” with dainty half-tone +illustrations as chapter headings.</p> +<p class='adprice'>1 vol., large 16mo, cloth <span class="ralign"><b>$1.00</b></span></p> +<blockquote> +<p>A bright and clever story of a summer on the coast of Maine, +fresh, breezy, and readable from the first to the last page. +The narrative describes the summer outing of a Mr. Merrithew +and his family. The characters are all honest, pleasant people, +whom we are glad to know. We part from them with the +same regret with which we leave a congenial party of friends.</p> +</blockquote> +<p class='adbook'>Cavalleria Rusticana; or, Under the +Shadow of Etna.</p> +<p>Translated from the Italian of Giovanni Verga, by +<span class='smcap'>Nathan Haskell Dole</span>. Illustrated by Etheldred +B. Barry.</p> +<p class='adprice'>1 vol., 16mo, cloth <span class="ralign"><b>$0.50</b></span></p> +<blockquote> +<p>Giovanni Verga stands at present as unquestionably the +most prominent of the Italian novelists. His supremacy in +the domain of the short story and in the wider range of the +romance is recognized both at home and abroad. The present +volume contains a selection from the most dramatic and characteristic +of his Sicilian tales. Verga is himself a native of +Sicily, and his knowledge of that wonderful country, with its +poetic and yet superstitious peasantry, is absolute. Such +pathos, humor, variety, and dramatic quality are rarely met +in a single volume.</p> +</blockquote> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div class="trnote"> +<p><b>Transcriber's note:</b></p> +<p>Hyphenation has been made consistent.</p> +<p>Archaic and variable spellings are preserved.</p> +<p>The author’s punctuation style is preserved, except quotation +marks, which have been standardized.</p> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CONTINENTAL DRAGOON***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 30589-h.txt or 30589-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/0/5/8/30589">http://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/5/8/30589</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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