The Spy by James Fenimore Cooper (page 6)

compose yourself, that proper honor may be done to the choice of your sister.”

“Is he–can he be, worthy of her?”

“Can he be otherwise?” returned Miss Peyton. “Is he not a gentleman?–a gallant soldier, though an unfortunate one? and certainly, my love, one who appears every way qualified to make any woman happy.”

Frances had given vent to her feelings, and, with an effort, she collected sufficient resolution to venture to join the party below. But to relieve the embarrassment of this delay, the clergyman had put sundry questions to the bridegroom; one of which was by no means answered to his satisfaction. Wellmere was compelled to acknowledge that he was unprovided with a ring; and to perform the marriage ceremony without one, the divine pronounced to be canonically impossible. His appeal to Mr. Wharton, for the propriety of this decision, was answered affirmatively, as it would have been negatively, had the question been put in a manner to lead to such a result. The owner of the Locusts had lost the little energy he possessed, by the blow recently received through his son, and his assent to the objection of the clergyman was as easily obtained as had been his consent to the premature proposals of Wellmere. In this stage of the dilemma, Miss Peyton and Frances appeared. The surgeon of dragoons approached the former, and as he handed her to a chair, observed,–

“It appears, madam, that untoward circumstances have prevented Colonel Wellmere from providing all of the decorations that custom, antiquity, and the canons of the church have prescribed, as indispensable to enter into the honorable state of wedlock.”

Miss Peyton glanced her quiet eye at the uneasy bridegroom, and perceiving him to be adorned with what she thought sufficient splendor, allowing for the time and the suddenness of the occasion, she turned her look on the speaker, as if to demand an explanation.

The surgeon understood her wishes, and proceeded at once to gratify them.

“There is,” he observed, “an opinion prevalent, that the heart lies on the left side of the body, and that the connection between the members of that side and what may be called the seat of life is more intimate than that which exists with their opposites. But this is an error which grows out of an ignorance of the organic arrangement of the human frame. In obedience to this opinion, the fourth finger of the left hand is thought to contain a virtue that belongs to no other branch of that digitated member; and it is ordinarily encircled, during the solemnization of wedlock, with a cincture or ring, as if to chain that affection to the marriage state, which is best secured by the graces of the female character.” While speaking, the operator laid his hand expressively on his heart, and he bowed nearly to the floor when he had concluded.

“I know not, sir, that I rightly understand your meaning,” said Miss Peyton, whose want of comprehension was sufficiently excusable.

“A ring, madam–a ring is wanting for the ceremony.”

The instant that the surgeon spoke explicitly, the awkwardness of the situation was understood. She glanced her eyes at her nieces, and in the younger she read a secret exultation that somewhat displeased her; but the countenance of Sarah was suffused with a shame that the considerate aunt well understood. Not for the world would she violate any of the observances of female etiquette. It suggested itself to all the females, at the same moment, that the wedding ring of the late mother and sister was reposing peacefully amid the rest of her jewelry in a secret receptacle, that had been provided at an early day, to secure the valuables against the predatory inroads of the marauders who roamed through the county. Into this hidden vault, the plate, and whatever was most prized, made a nightly retreat, and there the ring in question had long lain, forgotten until at this moment. But it was the business of the bridegroom, from time immemorial, to furnish this indispensable to wedlock, and on no account would Miss Peyton do anything that transcended the usual reserve of the sex on this solemn occasion; certainly not until sufficient expiation for the offense had been made, by a due portion of trouble and disquiet. This material fact, therefore, was not disclosed by either; the aunt consulting female propriety; the bride yielding to shame; and Frances rejoicing that an embarrassment, proceeding from almost any cause, should delay her sister’s vow. It was reserved for Doctor Sitgreaves to interrupt the awkward silence.

“If, madam, a plain ring, that once belonged to a sister of my own–” He paused and hemmed–“If, madam, a ring of that description might be admitted to this honor, I have one that could be easily produced from my quarters at the Corners, and I doubt not it would fit the finger for which it is desired. There is a strong resemblance between–hem–between my late sister and Miss Wharton in stature and anatomical figure; and, in all eligible subjects, the proportions are apt to be observed throughout the whole animal economy.”

A glance of Miss Peyton’s eye recalled Colonel Wellmere to a sense of his duty, and springing from his chair, he assured the surgeon that in no way could he confer a greater obligation on himself than by sending for that very ring. The operator bowed a little haughtily, and withdrew to fulfill his promise, by dispatching a messenger on the errand. The aunt suffered him to retire; but unwillingness to admit a stranger into the privacy of their domestic arrangements induced her to follow and tender the services of Caesar, instead of those of Sitgreaves’ man, who had volunteered for this duty. Katy Haynes was accordingly directed to summon the black to the vacant parlor, and thither Miss Peyton and the surgeon repaired, to give their several instructions.

The consent to this sudden union of Sarah and Wellmere, and especially at a time when the life of a member of the family was in such imminent jeopardy, was given from a conviction that the unsettled state of the country would probably prevent another opportunity to the lovers of meeting, and a secret dread on the part of Mr. Wharton, that the death of his son might, by hastening his own, leave his remaining children without a protector. But notwithstanding Miss Peyton had complied with her brother’s wish to profit by the accidental visit of a divine, she had not thought it necessary to blazon the intended nuptials of her niece to the neighborhood, had even time been allowed; she thought, therefore, that she was now communicating a profound secret to the negro, and her housekeeper.

“Caesar,” she commenced, with a smile, “you are now to learn that your young mistress, Miss Sarah, is to be united to Colonel Wellmere this evening.”

“I t’ink I see him afore,” said Caesar, chuckling. “Old black man can tell when a young lady make up he mind.”

“Really, Caesar, I find I have never given you credit for half the observation that you deserve; but as you already know on what emergency your services are required, listen to the directions of this gentleman, and observe them.”

The black turned in quiet submission to the surgeon, who commenced as follows:–

“Caesar, your mistress has already acquainted you with the important event about to be solemnized within this habitation; but a cincture or ring is wanting to encircle the finger of the bride; a custom derived from the ancients, and which has been continued in the marriage forms of several branches of the Christian church, and which is even, by a species of typical wedlock, used in the installation of prelates, as you doubtless understand.”

“P’r’aps Massa Doctor will say him over ag’in,” interrupted the old negro, whose memory began to fail him, just as the other made so confident an allusion to his powers of comprehension. “I t’ink I get him by heart dis time.”

“It is impossible to gather honey from a rock, Caesar, and therefore I will abridge the little I have to say. Ride to the Four Corners, and present this note to Sergeant Hollister, or to Mrs. Elizabeth Flanagan, either of whom will furnish the necessary pledge of connubial affection; and return forthwith.”

The letter which the surgeon put into the hands of his messenger, as he ceased, was conceived in the following terms:–

“If the fever has left Kinder, give him nourishment. Take three ounces more of blood from Watson. Have a search made that the woman Flanagan has left none of her jugs of alcohol in the hospital. Renew the dressings of Johnson, and dismiss Smith to duty. Send the ring, which is pendent from the chain of the watch, that I left with you to time the doses, by the bearer.

“ARCHIBALD SITGREAVES, M. D.”,
_”Surgeon of Dragoons.”_

“Caesar,” said Katy, when she was alone with the black, “put the ring, when you get it, in your left pocket, for that is nearest your heart; and by no means endeavor to try it on your finger, for it is unlucky.”

“Try um on he finger?” interrupted the negro, stretching forth his bony knuckles. “T’ink a Miss Sally’s ring go on old Caesar finger?”

“‘Tis not consequential whether it goes on or not,” said the housekeeper; “but it is an evil omen to place a marriage ring on the finger of another after wedlock, and of course it may be dangerous before.”

“I tell you, Katy, I neber t’ink to put um on a finger.”

“Go, then, Caesar, and do not forget the left pocket; be careful to take off your hat as you pass the graveyard, and be expeditious; for nothing, I am certain, can be more trying to the patience, than thus to be waiting for the ceremony, when a body has fully made up her mind to marry.”

With this injunction Caesar quitted the house, and he was soon firmly fixed in the saddle. From his youth, the black, like all of his race, had been a hard rider; but, bending under the weight of sixty winters, his African blood had lost some of its native heat. The night was dark, and the wind whistled through the vale with the dreariness of November. When Caesar reached the graveyard, he uncovered his grizzled head with superstitious awe, and threw around him many a fearful glance, in momentary expectation of seeing something superhuman. There was sufficient light to discern a being of earthly mold stealing from among the graves, apparently with a design to enter the highway. It is in vain that philosophy and reason contend with early impressions, and poor Caesar was even without the support of either of these frail allies. He was, however, well mounted on a coach horse of Mr. Wharton’s and, clinging to the back of the animal with instinctive skill, he abandoned the rein to the beast. Hillocks, woods, rocks, fences, and houses flew by him with the rapidity of lightning, and the black had just begun to think whither and on what business he was riding in this headlong manner, when he reached the place where the roads met, and the “Hotel Flanagan” stood before him in its dilapidated simplicity. The sight of a cheerful fire first told the negro that he had reached the habitation of man, and with it came all his dread of the bloody Virginians; his duty must, however, be done, and, dismounting, he fastened the foaming animal to a fence, and approached the window with cautious steps, to reconnoiter.

Before a blazing fire sat Sergeant Hollister and Betty Flanagan, enjoying themselves over a liberal potation.

“I tell ye, sargeant dear,” said Betty, removing the mug from her mouth, “’tis no r’asonable to think it was more than the piddler himself; sure now, where was the smell of sulphur, and the wings, and the tail, and the cloven foot? Besides, sargeant, it’s no dacent to tell a lone famale that she had Beelzeboob for a bedfellow.”

“It matters but little, Mrs. Flanagan, provided you escape his talons and fangs hereafter,” returned the veteran, following the remark by a heavy draft.

Caesar heard enough to convince him that little danger from this pair was to be apprehended. His teeth already began to chatter, and the cold without and the comfort within stimulated him greatly to enter. He made his approaches with proper caution, and knocked with extreme humility. The appearance of Hollister with a drawn sword, roughly demanding who was without, contributed in no degree to the restoration of his faculties; but fear itself lent him power to explain his errand.

“Advance,” said the sergeant, throwing a look of close scrutiny on the black, as he brought him to the light; “advance, and deliver your dispatches. Have you the countersign?”

“I don’t t’ink he know what dat be,” said the black, shaking in his shoes, “dough massa dat sent me gib me many t’ings to carry, dat he little understand.”

“Who ordered you on this duty, did you say?”

“Well, it war he doctor, heself, so he come up on a gallop, as he always do on a doctor’s errand.”

“‘Twas Doctor Sitgreaves; he never knows the countersign himself. Now, blackey, had it been Captain Lawton he would not have sent you here, close to a sentinel, without the countersign; for you might get a pistol bullet through your head, and that would be cruel to you; for although you be black, I am none of them who thinks niggers have no souls.”

“Sure a nagur has as much sowl as a white,” said Betty. “Come hither, ould man, and warm that shivering carcass of yeers by the blaze of this fire. I’m sure a Guinea nagur loves hate as much as a soldier loves his drop.”

Caesar obeyed in silence, and a mulatto boy who was sleeping on a bench in the room, was bidden to convey the note of the surgeon to the building where the wounded were quartered.

“Here,” said the washerwoman, tendering to Caesar a taste of the article that most delighted herself, “try a drop, smooty, ’twill warm the black sowl within your crazy body, and be giving you spirits as you are going homeward.”

“I tell you, Elizabeth,” said the sergeant, “that the souls of niggers are the same as our own; how often have I heard the good Mr. Whitefield say that there was no distinction of color in heaven. Therefore it is reasonable to believe that the soul of this here black is as white as my own, or even Major Dunwoodie’s.”

“Be sure he be,” cried Caesar, a little tartly, whose courage had revived by tasting the drop of Mrs. Flanagan.

“It’s a good sowl that the major is, anyway,” returned the washerwoman; “and a kind sowl–aye, and a brave sowl too; and ye’ll say all that yeerself, sargeant, I’m thinking.”

“For the matter of that,” returned the veteran, “there is One above even Washington, to judge of souls; but this I will say, that Major Dunwoodie is a gentleman who never says, Go, boys–but always says, Come, boys; and if a poor fellow is in want of a spur or a martingale, and the leather-whack is gone, there is never wanting the real silver to make up the loss, and that from his own pocket too.”

“Why, then, are you here idle when all that he holds most dear are in danger?” cried a voice with startling abruptness. “Mount, mount, and follow your captain; arm and mount, and that instantly, or you will be too late!”

This unexpected interruption produced an instantaneous confusion amongst the tipplers. Caesar fled instinctively into the fireplace, where he maintained his position in defiance of a heat that would have roasted a white man. Sergeant Hollister turned promptly on his heel, and seizing big saber, the steel was glittering by the firelight, in the twinkling of an eye; but perceiving the intruder to be the peddler, who stood near the open door that led to the lean-to in the rear, he began to fall back towards the position of the black, with a military intuition that taught him to concentrate his forces. Betty alone stood her ground, by the side of the temporary table. Replenishing the mug with a large addition of the article known to the soldiery by the name of “choke-dog,” she held it towards the peddler. The eyes of the washerwoman had for some time been swimming with love and liquor, and turning them good-naturedly on Birch, she cried,–

“Faith, but ye’re wilcome, Mister Piddler, or Mister Birch, or Mister Beelzeboob, or what’s yeer name. Ye’re an honest divil anyway, and I’m hoping that you found the pitticoats convanient. Come forward, dear, and fale the fire; Sergeant Hollister won’t be hurting you, for the fear of an ill turn you may be doing him hereafter–will ye, sargeant dear?”

“Depart, ungodly man!” cried the veteran, edging still nearer to Caesar, but lifting his legs alternately as they scorched with the heat. “Depart in peace! There is none here for thy service, and you seek the woman in vain. There is a tender mercy that will save her from thy talons.” The sergeant ceased to utter aloud, but the motion of his lips continued, and a few scattering words of prayer were alone audible.

The brain of the washerwoman was in such a state of confusion that she did not clearly comprehend the meaning of her suitor, but a new idea struck her imagination, and she broke forth,–

“If it’s me the man saaks, where’s the matter, pray? Am I not a widowed body, and my own property? And you talk of tinderness, sargeant, but it’s little I see of it, anyway. Who knows but Mr. Beelzeboob here is free to speak his mind? I’m sure it is willing to hear I am.”

“Woman,” said the peddler, “be silent; and you, foolish man, mount–arm and mount, and fly to the rescue of your officer, if you are worthy of the cause in which you serve, and would not disgrace the coat you wear.” The peddler vanished from the sight of the bewildered trio, with a rapidity that left them uncertain whither he had fled.

On hearing the voice of an old friend, Caesar emerged from his corner, and fearlessly advanced to the spot where Betty had resolutely maintained her ground, though in a state of utter mental confusion.

“I wish Harvey stop,” said the black. “If he ride down a road, I should like he company; I don’t t’ink Johnny Birch hurt he own son.”

“Poor, ignorant wretch!” exclaimed the veteran, recovering his voice with a long-drawn breath; “think you that figure was made of flesh and blood?”

“Harvey ain’t fleshy,” replied the black, “but he berry clebber man.”

“Pooh! sargeant dear,” exclaimed the washerwoman, “talk r’ason for once, and mind what the knowing one tells ye; call out the boys and ride a bit after Captain Jack; remimber, darling, that he told ye, the day, to be in readiness to mount at a moment’s warning.”

“Aye, but not at a summons from the foul fiend. Let Captain Lawton, or Lieutenant Mason, or Cornet Skipwith, say the word, and who is quicker in the saddle than I?”

“Well, sargeant, how often is it that ye’ve boasted to myself that the corps wasn’t a bit afeard to face the divil?”

“No more are we, in battle array, and by daylight; but it’s foolhardy and irreverent to tempt Satan, and on such a night as this. Listen how the wind whistles through the trees; and hark! there is the howling of evil spirits abroad.”

“I see him,” said Caesar, opening his eyes to a width that might have embraced more than an ideal form.

“Where?” interrupted the sergeant, instinctively laying his hand on the hilt of his saber.

“No, no,” said the black, “I see a Johnny Birch come out of he grave–Johnny walk afore he buried.”

“Ah! then he must have led an evil life indeed,” said Hollister. “The blessed in spirit lie quiet until the general muster, but wickedness disturbs the soul in this life as well as in that which is to come.”

“And what is to come of Captain Jack?” cried Betty, angrily. “Is it yeer orders that ye won’t mind, nor a warning given? I’ll jist git my cart, and ride down and tell him that ye’re afeard of a dead man and Beelzeboob; and it isn’t succor he may be expicting from ye. I wonder who’ll be the orderly of the troop the morrow, then?–his name won’t be Hollister, anyway.”

“Nay, Betty, nay,” said the sergeant, laying his hand familiarly on her shoulder; “if there must be riding to-night, let it be by him whose duty it is to call out the men and set an example. The Lord have mercy, and send us enemies of flesh and blood!”

Another glass confirmed the veteran in a resolution that was only excited by a dread of his captain’s displeasure, and he proceeded to summon the dozen men who had been left under his command. The boy arriving with the ring, Caesar placed it carefully in the pocket of his waistcoat next his heart, and, mounting, shut his eyes, seized his charger by the mane, and continued in a state of comparative insensibility, until the animal stopped at the door of the warm stable whence he had started.

The movements of the dragoons, being timed to the order of a march, were much slower, for they were made with a watchfulness that was intended to guard against surprise from the evil one himself.

CHAPTER XXII

Be not your tongue thy own shame’s orator, Look sweet, speak fair, become disloyalty, Apparel vice like virtue’s harbinger. –_Comedy of Errors._

The situation of the party in Mr. Wharton’s dwelling was sufficiently awkward, during the hour of Caesar’s absence; for such was the astonishing rapidity displayed by his courser, that the four miles of road was gone over, and the events we have recorded had occurred, somewhat within that period of time. Of course, the gentlemen strove to make the irksome moments fly as swiftly as possible; but premeditated happiness is certainly of the least joyous kind. The bride and bridegroom are immemorially privileged to be dull, and but few of their friends seemed disposed, on the present occasion, to dishonor their example. The English colonel exhibited a proper portion of uneasiness at this unexpected interruption of his felicity, and he sat with a varying countenance by the side of Sarah, who seemed to be profiting by the delay to gather fortitude for the solemn ceremony. In the midst of this embarrassing silence, Doctor Sitgreaves addressed himself to Miss Peyton, by whose side he had contrived to procure a chair. “Marriage, madam, is pronounced to be honorable in the sight of God and man; and it may be said to be reduced, in the present age, to the laws of nature and reason. The ancients, in sanctioning polygamy, lost sight of the provisions of nature, and condemned thousands to misery; but with the increase of science have grown the wise ordinances of society, which ordain that man should be the husband of but one woman.”

Wellmere glanced a fierce expression of disgust at the surgeon, that indicated his sense of the tediousness of the other’s remarks; while Miss Peyton, with a slight hesitation, as if fearful of touching on forbidden subjects, replied,–

“I had thought, sir, that we were indebted to the Christian religion for our morals on this subject.”

“True, madam, it is somewhere provided in the prescriptions of the apostles, that the sexes should henceforth be on an equality in this particular. But in what degree could polygamy affect holiness of life? It was probably a wise arrangement of Paul, who was much of a scholar, and probably had frequent conferences, on this important subject, with Luke, whom we all know to have been bred to the practice of medicine–”

There is no telling how far the discursive fancy of Sitgreaves might have led him, on this subject, had he not been interrupted. But Lawton, who had been a close though silent observer of all that passed, profited by the hint to ask abruptly,–

“Pray, Colonel Wellmere, in what manner is bigamy punished in England?”

The bridegroom started, and his lip blanched. Recovering himself, however, on the instant, he answered with a suavity that became so happy a man,–

“Death!–as such an offense merits,” he said.

“Death and dissection,” continued the operator. “It is seldom that law loses sight of eventual utility in a malefactor. Bigamy, in a man, is a heinous offense!”

“More so than celibacy?” asked Lawton.

“More so,” returned the surgeon, with undisturbed simplicity. “One who remains in a single state may devote his life to science and the extension of knowledge, if not of his species; but the wretch who profits by the constitutional tendency of the female sex to credulity and tenderness, incurs the wickedness of a positive sin, heightened by the baseness of deception.”

“Really, sir, the ladies are infinitely obliged to you, for attributing folly to them as part of their nature.”

“Captain Lawton, in man the animal is more nobly formed than in woman. The nerves are endowed with less sensi bility; the whole frame is less pliable and yielding; is it therefore surprising, that a tendency to rely on the faith of her partner is more natural to woman than to the other sex?”

Wellmere, as if unable to listen with any degree of patience to so ill-timed a dialogue, sprang from his seat and paced the floor in disorder. Pitying his situation, the reverend gentleman, who was patiently awaiting the return of Caesar, changed the discourse, and a few minutes brought the black himself. The billet was handed to Dr. Sitgreaves; for Miss Peyton had expressly enjoined Caesar not to implicate her, in any manner, in the errand on which he was dispatched. The note contained a summary statement of the several subjects of the surgeon’s directions, and referred him to the black for the ring. The latter was instantly demanded, and promptly delivered. A transient look of melancholy clouded the brow of the surgeon, as he stood a moment, and gazed silently on the bauble; nor did he remember the place, or the occasion, while he mournfully soliloquized as follows:–

“Poor Anna! gay as innocence and youth could make thee was thy heart, when this cincture was formed to grace thy nuptials; but ere the hour had come, God had taken thee to Himself. Years have passed, my sister, but never have I forgotten the companion of my infancy!” He advanced to Sarah, and, unconscious of observation, placing the ring on her finger, continued, “She for whom it was intended has long been in her grave, and the youth who bestowed the gift soon followed her sainted spirit; take it, madam, and God grant that it may be an instrument in making you as happy as you deserve!”

Sarah felt a chill at her heart, as this burst of feeling escaped the surgeon; but Wellmere offering his hand, she was led before the divine, and the ceremony began. The first words of this imposing office produced a dead stillness in the apartment; and the minister of God proceeded to the solemn exhortation, and witnessed the plighted troth of the parties, when the investiture was to follow. The ring had been left, from inadvertency and the agitation of the moment, on the finger where Sitgreaves had placed it; the slight interruption occasioned by the circumstance was over, and the clergyman was about to proceed, when a figure gliding into the midst of the party, at once put a stop to the ceremony. It was the peddler. His look was bitter and ironical, while a finger, raised towards the divine, seemed to forbid the ceremony to go any further.

“Can Colonel Wellmere waste the precious moments here, when his wife has crossed the ocean to meet him? The nights are long, and the moon bright; a few hours will take him to the city.”

Aghast at the suddenness of this extraordinary address, Wellmere for a moment lost the command of his faculties. To Sarah, the countenance of Birch, expressive as it was, produced no terror; but the instant she recovered from the surprise of his interruption, she turned her anxious gaze on the features of the man to whom she had just pledged her troth. They afforded the most terrible confirmation of all that the peddler affirmed; the room whirled round, and she fell lifeless into the arms of her aunt. There is an instinctive delicacy in woman, that seems to conquer all other emotions; and the insensible bride was immediately conveyed from sight, leaving the room to the sole possession of the other sex.

The confusion enabled the peddler to retreat with a rapidity that would have baffled pursuit, had any been attempted, and Wellmere stood with every eye fixed on him, in ominous silence.

“‘Tis false–’tis false as hell!” he cried, striking his forehead. “I have ever denied her claim; nor will the laws of my country compel me to acknowledge it.”

“But what will conscience and the laws of God do?” asked Lawton.

“‘Tis well, sir,” said Wellmere, haughtily, and retreating towards the door, “my situation protects you now; but a time may come–”

He had reached the entry, when a slight tap on his shoulder caused him to turn his head; it was Captain Lawton, who, with a smile of peculiar meaning, beckoned him to follow. The state of Wellmere’s mind was such, that he would gladly have gone anywhere to avoid the gaze of horror and detestation that glared from every eye he met. They reached the stables before the trooper spoke, when he cried aloud,–

“Bring out Roanoke!”

His man appeared with the steed caparisoned for its master. Lawton, coolly throwing the bridle on the neck of the animal, took his pistols from the holsters, and continued, “Here are weapons that have seen good service before to-day–aye, and in honorable hands, sir. These were the pistols of my father, Colonel Wellmere; he used them with credit in the wars with France, and gave them to me to fight the battles of my country with. In what better way can I serve her than in exterminating a wretch who would have blasted one of her fairest daughters?”

“This injurious treatment shall meet with its reward,” cried the other, seizing the offered weapon. “The blood lie on the head of him who sought it!”

“Amen! but hold a moment, sir. You are now free, and the passports of Washington are in your pocket; I give you the fire; if I fall, there is a steed that will outstrip pursuit; and I would advise you to reteat without much delay, for even Archibald Sitgreaves would fight in such a cause–nor will the guard above be very apt to give quarter.”

“Are you ready?” asked Wellmere, gnashing his teeth with rage.

“Stand forward, Tom, with the lights; fire!”

Wellmere fired, and the bullion flew from the epaulet of the trooper.

“Now the turn is mine,” said Lawton, deliberately leveling his pistol.

“And mine!” shouted a voice, as the weapon was struck from his hand. “By all the devils in hell, ’tis the mad Virginian!–fall on, my boys, and take him; this is a prize not hoped for!”

Unarmed, and surprised as he was, Lawton’s presence of mind did not desert him; he felt that he was in the hands of those from whom he was to expect no mercy; and, as four of the Skinners fell upon him at once, he used his gigantic strength to the utmost. Three of the band grasped him by the neck and arms, with an intent to clog his efforts, and pinion him with ropes. The first of these he threw from him, with a violence that sent him against the building, where he lay stunned with the blow. But the fourth seized his legs; and, unable to contend with such odds, the trooper came to the earth, bringing with him all of his assailants. The struggle on the ground was short but terrific; curses and the most dreadful imprecations were uttered by the Skinners, who in vain called on more of their band, who were gazing on the combat in nerveless horror, to assist. A difficulty of breathing, from one of the combatants, was heard, accompanied by the stifled moanings of a strangled man; and directly one of the group arose on his feet, shaking himself free from the wild grasp of the others. Both Wellmere and the servant of Lawton had fled: the former to the stables, and the latter to give the alarm, leaving all in darkness. The figure that stood erect sprang into the saddle of the unheeded charger; sparks of fire, issuing from the armed feet of the horse, gave a momentary light by which the captain was seen dashing like the wind towards the highway.

“By hell, he’s off!” cried the leader, hoarse with rage and exhaustion. “Fire!–bring him down–fire, or you’ll be too late.”

The order was obeyed, and one moment of suspense followed, in the vain hope of hearing the huge frame of Lawton tumbling from his steed.

“He would not fall if you had killed him,” muttered one. “I’ve known these Virginians sit their horses with two or three balls through them; aye, even after they were dead.”

A freshening of the wind wafted the tread of a horse down the valley, which, by its speed, gave assurance of a rider governing its motion.

“These trained horses always stop when the rider falls,” observed one of the gang.

“Then,” cried the leader, striking his musket on the ground in a rage, “the fellow is safe!–to your business at once. A short half hour will bring down that canting sergeant and the guard upon us. ‘Twill be lucky if the guns don’t turn them out. Quick, to your posts, and fire the house in the chambers; smoking ruins are good to cover evil deeds.”

“What is to be done with this lump of earth?” cried another, pushing the body that yet lay insensible, where it had been hurled by the arm of Lawton; “a little rubbing would bring him to.”

“Let him lie,” said the leader, fiercely. “Had he been half a man, that dragooning rascal would have been in my power; enter the house, I say, and fire the chambers. We can’t go amiss here; there is plate and money enough to make you all gentlemen–and revenge too.”

The idea of silver in any way was not to be resisted; and, leaving their companion, who began to show faint signs of life, they rushed tumultuously towards the dwelling. Wellmere availed himself of the opportunity, and, stealing from the stable with his own charger, he was able to gain the highway unnoticed. For an instant he hesitated, whether to ride towards the point where he knew the guard was stationed, and endeavor to rescue the family, or, profiting by his liberty and the exchange that had been effected by the divine, to seek the royal army. Shame, and a consciousness of guilt, determined him to take the latter course, and he rode towards New York, stung with the reflection of his own baseness, and harassed with the apprehension of meeting with an enraged woman, that he had married during his late visit to England, but whose claims, as soon as his passion was sated, he had resolved never willingly to admit. In the tumult and agitation of the moment, the retreat of Lawton and Wellmere was but little noticed; the condition of Mr. Wharton demanding the care and consolation of both the surgeon and the divine. The report of the firearms at first roused the family to the sense of a new danger, and but a moment elapsed before the leader, and one more of the gang, entered the room.

“Surrender! you servants of King George,” shouted the leader, presenting his musket to the breast of Sitgreaves, “or I will let a little tory blood from your veins.”

“Gently–gently, my friend,” said the surgeon. “You are doubtless more expert in inflicting wounds than in healing them; the weapon that you hold so indiscreetly is extremely dangerous to animal life.”

“Yield, or take its contents.”

“Why and wherefore should I yield?–I am a noncombatant. The articles of capitulation must be arranged with Captain John Lawton; though yielding, I believe, is not a subject on which you will find him particularly complying.”

The fellow had by this time taken such a survey of the group, as convinced him that little danger was to be apprehended from resistance, and, eager to seize his share of the plunder, he dropped his musket, and was soon busy with the assistance of his men, in arranging divers articles of plate in bags. The cottage now presented a singular spectacle. The ladies were gathered around Sarah, who yet continued insensible, in one of the rooms that had escaped the notice of the marauders. Mr. Wharton sat in a state of perfect imbecility, listening to, but not profiting by, the meaning words of comfort that fell from the lips of the clergyman. Singleton was lying on a sofa, shaking with debility, and inattentive to surrounding objects; while the surgeon was administering restoratives, and looking at the dressings, with a coolness that mocked the tumult. Caesar and the attendant of Captain Singleton, had retreated to the wood in the rear of the cottage, and Katy Haynes was flying about the building, busily employed in forming a bundle of valuables, from which, with the most scrupulous honesty, she rejected every article that was not really and truly her own.

But to return to the party at the Four Corners. When the veteran had got his men mounted and under arms, a restless desire to participate in the glory and dangers of the expedition came over the washerwoman. Whether she was impelled to the undertaking by a dread of remaining alone, or a wish to hasten in person to the relief of her favorite, we will not venture to assert but, as Hollister was giving the orders to wheel and march, the voice of Betty was heard, exclaiming,–

“Stop a bit, sargeant dear, till two of the boys get out the cart, and I’ll jist ride wid ye; ’tis like there’ll be wounded, and it will be mighty convanient to bring them home in.”

Although inwardly much pleased with any cause of delay to a service that he so little relished, Hollister affected some displeasure at the detention.

“Nothing but a cannon ball can take one of my lads from his charger,” he said; “and it’s not very likely that we shall have as fair fighting as cannon and musketry, in a business of the evil one’s inventing; so, Elizabeth, you may go if you will, but the cart will not be wanting.”

“Now, sargeant dear, you lie, anyway,” said Betty, who was somewhat unduly governed by her potations. “And wasn’t Captain Singleton shot off his horse but tin days gone by? Aye, and Captain Jack himself too; and didn’t he lie on the ground, face uppermost and back downwards, looking grim? And didn’t the boys t’ink him dead, and turn and l’ave the rig’lars the day?”

“You lie back again,” cried the sergeant, fiercely; “and so does anyone who says that we didn’t gain the day.”

“For a bit or so–only I mane for a bit or so,” said the washerwoman; “but Major Dunwoodie turned you, and so you licked the rig’lars. But the captain it was that fell, and I’m thinking that there’s no better rider going; so, sargeant, it’s the cart will be convanient. Here, two of you, jist hitch the mare to the tills, and it’s no whisky that ye’ll be wanting the morrow; and put the piece of Jenny’s hide under the pad; the baste is never the better for the rough ways of the county Westchester.” The consent of the sergeant being obtained, the equipage of Mrs. Flanagan was soon in readiness to receive its burden.

“As it is quite uncertain whether we shall be attacked in front, or in rear,” said Hollister, “five of you shall march in advance, and the remainder shall cover our retreat towards the barrack, should we be pressed. ‘Tis an awful moment to a man of little learning, Elizabeth, to command in such a service; for my part, I wish devoutly that one of the officers were here; but my trust is in the Lord.”

“Pooh! man, away wid ye,” said the washerwoman, who had got herself comfortably seated. “The divil a bit of an inimy is there near. March on, hurry-skurry, and let the mare trot, or it’s but little that Captain Jack will thank ye for the help.”

“Although unlearned in matters of communicating with spirits, or laying the dead, Mrs. Flanagan,” said the veteran, “I have not served through the old war, and five years in this, not to know how to guard the baggage. Doesn’t Washington always cover the baggage? I am not to be told my duty by a camp follower. Fall in as you are ordered, and dress, men.”

“Well, march, anyway,” cried the impatient washerwoman. “The black is there already, and it’s tardy the captain will think ye.”

“Are you sure that it was really a black man that brought the order?” said the sergeant, dropping in between the platoons, where he could converse with Betty, and be at hand, to lead on an emergency, either on an advance or on a retreat.

“Nay–and I’m sure of nothing, dear. But why don’t the boys prick their horses and jog a trot? The mare is mighty un’asy, and it’s no warm in this cursed valley, riding as much like a funeral party as old rags is to continental.” [Footnote: The paper money issued by congress was familiarly called continental money. This term “continental” was applied to the army, the congress, the ships of war, and in short, to almost everything of interest which belonged to the new government. It would seem to have been invented as the opposite of the insular position of the mother country.] “Fairly and softly, aye, and prudently, Mrs. Flanagan; it’s not rashness that makes the good officer. If we have to encounter a spirit, it’s more than likely he’ll make his attack by surprise; horses are not very powerful in the dark, and I have a character to lose, good woman.”

“Caractur! and isn’t it caractur and life too that Captain Jack has to lose!”

“Halt!” cried the sergeant. “What is that lurking near the foot of the rock, on the left?”

“Sure, it’s nothing, unless it be a matter of Captain Jack’s sowl that’s come to haunt ye, for not being brisker on the march.”

“Betty, your levity makes you an unfit comrade for such an expedition. Advance, one of you, and reconnoiter the spot; draw swords!–rear rank, close to the front!”

“Pshaw!” shouted Betty, “is it a big fool or a big coward that ye are? Jist wheel from the road, boys, and I’ll shove the mare down upon it in the twinkling of an eye–and it’s no ghost that I fear.”

By this time one of the men had returned, and declared there was nothing to prevent their advancing, and the party continued their march, but with great deliberation and caution.

“Courage and prudence are the jewels of a soldier, Mrs. Flanagan,” said the sergeant; “without the one, the other may be said to be good for nothing.”

“Prudence without courage: is it _that_ you mane?–and it’s so that I’m thinking myself, sargeant. This baste pulls tight on the reins, any way.”

“Be patient, good woman; hark! what is that?” said Hollister, pricking up his ears at the report of Wellmere’s pistol. “I’ll swear that was a human pistol, and one from our regiment. Rear rank, close to the front!–Mrs. Flanagan, I must leave you.” So saying, having recovered all his faculties, by hearing a sound that he understood, he placed himself at the head of his men with an air of military pride, that the darkness prevented the washerwoman from beholding. A volley of musketry now rattled in the night wind, and the sergeant exclaimed,–

“March!–quick time!”

The next instant the trampling of a horse was heard coming up the road, at a rate that announced a matter of life or death; and Hollister again halted his party, riding a short distance in front himself, to meet the rider.

“Stand!–who goes there?” shouted Hollister.

“Ha! Hollister, is it you?” cried Lawton, “ever ready and at your post; but where is the guard?”

“At hand, sir, and ready to follow you through thick and thin,” said the veteran, relieved at once from responsibility, and as eager as a boy to be led against his enemy.

“‘Tis well!” said the trooper, riding up to his men; then, speaking a few words of encouragement, he led them down the valley at a rate but little less rapid than his approach. The miserable horse of the sutler was soon distanced, and Betty, thus thrown out in the chase, turned to the side of the road, and observed,–

“There–it’s no difficult to tell that Captain Jack is wid ’em, anyway; and away they go like so many nagur boys to a husking-frolic; well, I’ll jist hitch the mare to this bit of a fence, and walk down and see the sport afoot–it’s no r’asonable to expose the baste to be hurted.”

Led on by Lawton, the men followed, destitute alike of fear and reflection. Whether it was a party of the refugees, or a detachment from the royal army, that they were to assail, they were profoundly ignorant; but they knew that the officer in advance was distinguished for courage and personal prowess; and these are virtues that are sure to captivate the thoughtless soldiery. On arriving near the gates of the Locusts, the trooper halted his party, and made his arrangements for the assault. Dismounting, he ordered eight of his men to follow his example, and turning to Hollister, said,–

“Stand you here, and guard the horses; if anything attempt to pass, stop it, or cut it down, and–”

The flames at this moment burst through the dormer windows and cedar roof of the cottage, and a bright light glared on the darkness of the night. “On!” shouted the trooper “on!–give quarter when you have done justice!”

There was a startling fierceness in the voice of the trooper that reached to the heart, even amid the horrors of the cottage. The leader of the Skinners dropped his plunder, and, for a moment, he stood in nerveless dread; then rushing to a window, he threw up the sash; at this instant Lawton entered, saber in hand, into the apartment.

“Die, miscreant!” cried the trooper, cleaving a marauder to the jaw; but the leader sprang into the lawn, and escaped his vengeance. The shrieks of the females restored Lawton to his presence of mind, and the earnest entreaty of the divine induced him to attend to the safety of the family. One more of the gang fell in with the dragoons, and met his death; but the remainder had taken the alarm in season. Occupied with Sarah, neither Miss Singleton, nor the ladies of the house, had discovered the entrance of the Skinners, though the flames were raging around them with a fury that threatened the building with rapid destruction. The shrieks of Katy and the terrified consort of Caesar, together with the noise and uproar in the adjacent apartment, first roused Miss Peyton and Isabella to a sense of their danger.

“Merciful Providence!” exclaimed the alarmed aunt; “there is a dreadful confusion in the house, and there will be blood shed in consequence of this affair.”

“There are none to fight,” returned Isabella, with a face paler than that of the other. “Dr. Sitgreaves is very peaceable in his disposition, and surely Captain Lawton would not forget himself so far.”

“The Southern temper is quick and fiery,” continued Miss Peyton; “and your brother, feeble and weak as he is, has looked the whole afternoon flushed and angry.”

“Good heaven!” cried Isabella, with difficulty supporting herself on the couch of Sarah; “he is gentle as the lamb by nature, though the lion is not his equal when roused.”

“We must interfere: our presence will quell the tumult, and possibly save the life of a fellow creature.”

Miss Peyton, excited to attempt what she conceived a duty worthy of her sex and nature, advanced with the dignity of injured female feeling, to the door, followed by Isabella. The apartment to which Sarah had been conveyed was in one of the wings of the building, and it communicated with the principal hall of the cottage by a long and dark passage. This was now light, and across its termination several figures were seen rushing with an impetuosity that prevented an examination of their employment.

“Let us advance,” said Miss Peyton, with a firmness her face belied; “they must respect our sex.”

“They shall,” cried Isabella, taking the lead in the enterprise. Frances was left alone with her sister. A few minutes were passed in silence, when a loud crash, in the upper apartments, was succeeded by a bright light that glared through the open door, and made objects as distinct to the eye as if they were placed under a noonday sun. Sarah raised herself on her bed, and staring wildly around, pressed both her hands on her forehead, endeavoring to recollect herself.

“This, then, is heaven–and you are one of its bright spirits. Oh! how glorious is its radiance! I had thought the happiness I have lately experienced was too much for earth. But we shall meet again; yes–yes–we shall meet again.”

“Sarah! Sarah!” cried Frances, in terror; “my sister–my only sister–Oh! do not smile so horridly; know me, or you will break my heart.”

“Hush,” said Sarah raising her hand for silence; “you may disturb his rest–surely, he will follow me to the grave. Think you there can be two wives in the grave? No–no–no; one–one–one–only one.”

Frances dropped her head into the lap of her sister, and wept in agony.

“Do you shed tears, sweet angel?” continued Sarah, soothingly. “Then heaven is not exempt from grief. But where is Henry? He was executed, and he must be here too; perhaps they will come together. Oh! how joyful will be the meeting!”

Frances sprang on her feet, and paced the apartment. The eye of Sarah followed her in childish admiration of her beauty.

“You look like my sister; but all good and lovely spirits are alike. Tell me, were you ever married? Did you ever let a stranger steal your affections from father, and brother, and sister? If not, poor wretch, I pity you, although you may be in heaven.”

“Sarah–peace, peace–I implore you to be silent,” shrieked Frances, rushing to her bed, “or you will kill me at your feet.”

Another dreadful crash shook the building to its center. It was the falling of the roof, and the flames threw their light abroad, so as to make objects visible around the cottage, through the windows of the room. Frances flew to one of them, and saw the confused group that was collected on the lawn. Among them were her aunt and Isabella, pointing with distraction to the fiery edifice, and apparently urging the dragoons to enter it. For the first time she comprehended their danger; and uttering a wild shriek, she flew through the passage without consideration, or object.

A dense and suffocating column of smoke opposed her progress. She paused to breathe, when a man caught her in his arms, and bore her, in a state of insensibility, through the falling embers and darkness, to the open air. The instant that Frances recovered her recollection, she perceived that she owed her life Lo Lawton, and throwing herself on her knees, she cried,–

“Sarah! Sarah! Sarah! save my sister, and may the blessing of God await you!”

Her strength failed, and she sank on the grass, in insensibility. The trooper pointed to her figure, motioned to Katy for assistance, and advanced once more to the building. The fire had already communicated to the woodwork of the piazzas and windows, and the whole exterior of the cottage was covered with smoke. The only entrance was through these dangers, and even the hardy and impetuous Lawton paused to consider. It was for a moment only, when he dashed into the heat and darkness, where, missing the entrance, he wandered for a minute, and precipitated himself back, again, upon the lawn. Drawing a single breath of pure air, he renewed the effort, and was again unsuccessful. On a third trial, he met a man staggering under the load of a human body. It was neither the place, nor was there time, to question, or to make distinctions; seizing both in his arms, with gigantic strength, he bore them through the smoke. He soon perceived, to his astonishment, that it was the surgeon, and the body of one of the Skinners, that he had saved.

“Archibald!” he exclaimed, “why, in the name of justice, did you bring this miscreant to light again? His deeds are rank to heaven!”

The surgeon, who had been in imminent peril, was too much bewildered to reply instantly, but wiping the moisture from his forehead, and clearing his lungs from the vapor he had inhaled, he said piteously,–

“Ah! it is all over! Had I been in time to have stopped the effusion from the jugular, he might have been saved; but the heat was conducive to hemorrhage; life is extinct indeed. Well, are there any more wounded?”

His question was put to the air, for Frances had been removed to the opposite side of the building, where her friends were collected, and Lawton had once more disappeared in the smoke.

By this time the flames had dispersed much of the suffocating vapor, so that the trooper was able to find the door, and in its very entrance he was met by a man supporting the insensible Sarah. There was but barely time to reach the lawn again, before the fire broke through the windows, and wrapped the whole building in a sheet of flame.

“God be praised!” ejaculated the preserver of Sarah. “It would have been a dreadful death to die.”

The trooper turned from gazing at the edifice, to the speaker, and to his astonishment, instead of one of his own men, he beheld the peddler.

“Ha! the spy,” he exclaimed; “by heavens, you cross me like a specter.”

“Captain Lawton,” said Birch, leaning in momentary exhaustion against the fence, to which they had retired from the heat, “I am again in your power, for I can neither flee, nor resist.”

“The cause of America is dear to me as life,” said the trooper, “but she cannot require her children to forget gratitude and honor. Fly, unhappy man, while yet you are unseen, or it will exceed my power to save you.”

“May God prosper you, and make you victorious over your enemies,” said Birch, grasping the hand of the dragoon with an iron strength that his meager figure did not indicate.

“Hold!” said Lawton. “But a word–are you what you seem?–can you–are you–”

“A royal spy,” interrupted Birch, averting his face, and endeavoring to release his hand.

“Then go, miserable wretch,” said the trooper, relinquishing his grasp. “Either avarice or delusion has led a noble heart astray!”

The bright light from the flames reached a great distance around the ruins, but the words were hardly past the lips of Lawton, before the gaunt form of the peddler had glided over the visible space, and plunged into the darkness beyond.

The eye of Lawton rested for a moment on the spot where he had last seen this inexplicable man, and then turning to the yet insensible Sarah, he lifted her in his arms, and bore her, like a sleeping infant, to the care of her friends.

CHAPTER XXIII

And now her charms are fading fast, Her spirits now no more are gay:
Alas! that beauty cannot last!
That flowers so sweet so soon decay! How sad appears
The vale of years,
How changed from youth’s too flattering scene! Where are her fond admirers gone?
Alas! and shall there then be none On whom her soul may lean?
–_Cynthia’s Grave_.

The walls of the cottage were all that was left of the building; and these, blackened by smoke, and stripped of their piazzas and ornaments, were but dreary memorials of the content and security that had so lately reigned within. The roof, together with the rest of the woodwork, had tumbled into the cellars, and a pale and flitting light, ascending from their embers, shone faintly through the windows. The early flight of the Skinners left the dragoons at liberty to exert themselves in saving much of the furniture, which lay scattered in heaps on the lawn, giving the finishing touch of desolation to the scene. Whenever a stronger ray of light than common shot upwards, the composed figures of Sergeant Hollister and his associates, sitting on their horses in rigid discipline, were to be seen in the background of the picture, together with the beast of Mrs. Flanagan, which, having slipped its bridle, was quietly grazing by the highway. Betty herself had advanced to the spot where the sergeant was posted, and, with an incredible degree of composure, witnessed the whole of the events as they occurred. More than once she suggested to her companion, that, as the fighting seemed to be over, the proper time for plunder had arrived, but the veteran acquainted her with his orders, and remained inflexible and immovable; until the washerwoman, observing Lawton come round the wing of the building with Sarah, ventured amongst the warriors. The captain, after placing Sarah on a sofa that had been hurled from the building by two of his men, retired, that the ladies might succeed him in his care. Miss Peyton and her niece flew, with a rapture that was blessed with a momentary forgetfulness of all but her preservation, to receive Sarah from the trooper; but the vacant eye and flushed cheek restored them instantly to their recollection.

“Sarah, my child, my beloved niece,” said the former, folding the unconscious bride in her arms, “you are saved, and may the blessing of God await him who has been the instrument.”

“See,” said Sarah, gently pushing her aunt aside, and pointing to the glimmering ruins, “the windows are illuminated in honor of my arrival. They always receive a bride thus–he told me they would do no less. Listen, and you will hear the bells.”

“Here is no bride, no rejoicing, nothing but woe!” cried Frances, in a manner but little less frantic than that of her sister. “Oh! may heaven restore you to us–to yourself!”

“Peace, foolish young woman,” said Sarah, with a smile of affected pity; “all cannot be happy at the same moment; perhaps you have no brother, or husband, to console you. You look beautiful, and you will yet find one; but,” she continued, dropping her voice to a whisper, “see that he has no other wife–’tis dreadful to think what might happen, should he be twice married.”

“The shock has destroyed her mind,” cried Miss Peyton; “my child, my beauteous Sarah is a maniac!”

“No, no, no,” cried Frances, “it is fever; she is lightheaded–she must recover–she shall recover.”

The aunt caught joyfully at the hope conveyed in this suggestion, and dispatched Katy to request the immediate aid and advice of Dr. Sitgreaves. The surgeon was found inquiring among the men for professional employment, and inquisitively examining every bruise and scratch that he could induce the sturdy warriors to acknowledge they had received. A summons, of the sort conveyed by Katy, was instantly obeyed, and not a minute elapsed before he was by the side of Miss Peyton.

“This is a melancholy termination to so joyful a commencement of the night, madam,” he observed, in a soothing manner. “But war must bring its attendant miseries; though doubtless it often supports the cause of liberty, and improves the knowledge of surgical science.”

Miss Peyton could make no reply, but pointed to her niece.

“‘Tis fever,” answered Frances; “see how glassy is her eye, and look at her cheek, how flushed.”

The surgeon stood for a moment, deeply studying the outward symptoms of his patient, and then he silently took her hand in his own. It was seldom that the hard and abstracted features of Sitgreaves discovered any violent emotion; all his passions seemed schooled, and his countenance did not often betray what, indeed, his heart frequently felt. In the present instance, however, the eager gaze of the aunt and sister quickly detected his emotions. After laying his fingers for a minute on the beautiful arm, which, bared to the elbow and glittering with jewels, Sarah suffered him to retain, he dropped it, and dashing a hand over his eyes, turned sorrowfully away.

“Here is no fever to excite–’tis a case, my dear madam, for time and care only; these, with the blessing of God, may effect a cure.”

“And where is the wretch who has caused this ruin?” exclaimed Singleton, rejecting the support of his man, and making an effort to rise from the chair to which he had been driven by debility. “It is in vain that we overcome our enemies, if, conquered, they can inflict such wounds as this.”

“Dost think, foolish boy,” said Lawton, with a bitter smile, “that hearts can feel in a colony? What is America but a satellite of England–to move as she moves, follow where she wists, and shine, that the mother country may become more splendid by her radiance? Surely you forget that it is honor enough for a colonist to receive ruin from the hand of a child of Britain.”

“I forget not that I wear a sword,” said Singleton, falling back exhausted; “but was there no willing arm ready to avenge that lovely sufferer–to appease the wrongs of this hoary father?”

“Neither arms nor hearts are wanting, sir, in such a cause,” said the trooper, fiercely; “but chance oftentimes helps the wicked. By heavens, I’d give Roanoke himself, for a clear field with the miscreant!”

“Nay! captain dear, no be parting with the horse, anyway,” said Betty. “It is no trifle that can be had by jist asking of the right person, if ye’re in need of silver; and the baste is sure of foot, and jumps like a squirrel.”

“Woman, fifty horses, aye, the best that were ever reared on the banks of the Potomac, would be but a paltry price, for one blow at a villain.”

“Come,” said the surgeon, “the night air can do no service to George, or these ladies, and it is incumbent on us to remove them where they can find surgical attendance and refreshment. Here is nothing but smoking ruins and the miasma of the swamps.”

To this rational proposition no objection could be raised, and the necessary orders were issued by Lawton to remove the whole party to the Four Corners.

America furnished but few and very indifferent carriage-makers at the period of which we write, and every vehicle, that in the least aspired to that dignity, was the manufacture of a London mechanic. When Mr. Wharton left the city, he was one of the very few who maintained the state of a carriage; and, at the time Miss Peyton and his daughters joined him in his retirement, they had been conveyed to the cottage in the heavy chariot that had once so imposingly rolled through the windings of Queen Street, or emerged, with somber dignity, into the more spacious drive of Broadway. This vehicle stood, undisturbed, where it had been placed on its arrival, and the age of the horses alone had protected the favorites of Caesar from sequestration by the contending forces in their neighborhood. With a heavy heart, the black, assisted by a few of the dragoons, proceeded to prepare it for the reception of the ladies. It was a cumbrous vehicle, whose faded linings and tarnished hammer-cloth, together with its panels of changing color, denoted the want of that art which had once given it luster and beauty. The “lion couchant” of the Wharton arms was reposing on the reviving splendor of a blazonry that told the armorial bearings of a prince of the church; and the miter, that began to shine through its American mask, was a symbol of the rank of its original owner. The chaise which conveyed Miss Singleton was also safe, for the stable and outbuildings had entirely escaped the flames; it certainly had been no part of the plan of the marauders to leave so well-appointed a stud behind them, but the suddenness of the attack by Lawton, not only disconcerted their arrangements on this point, but on many others also. A guard was left on the ground, under the command of Hollister, who, having discovered that his enemy was of mortal mold, took his position with admirable coolness and no little skill, to guard against surprise. He drew off his small party to such a distance from the ruins, that it was effectually concealed in the darkness, while at the same time the light continued sufficiently power ful to discover anyone who might approach the lawn with an intent to plunder.

Satisfied with this judicious arrangement, Captain Lawton made his dispositions for the march. Miss Peyton, her two nieces, and Isabella were placed in the chariot, while the cart of Mrs. Flanagan, amply supplied with blankets and a bed, was honored with the person of Captain Singleton. Dr. Sitgreaves took charge of the chaise and Mr. Wharton. What became of the rest of the family during that eventful night is unknown, for Caesar alone, of the domestics, was to be found, if we except the housekeeper. Having disposed of the whole party in this manner, Lawton gave the word to march. He remained himself, for a few minutes, alone on the lawn, secreting various pieces of plate and other valuables, that he was fearful might tempt the cupidity of his own men; when, perceiving nothing more that he conceived likely to overcome their honesty, he threw himself into the saddle with the soldierly intention of bringing up the rear.

“Stop, stop,” cried a female voice. “Will you leave me alone to be murdered? The spoon is melted, I believe, and I’ll have compensation, if there’s law or justice in this unhappy land.”

Lawton turned an eye in the direction of the sound, and perceived a female emerging from the ruins, loaded with a bundle that vied in size with the renowned pack of the peddler.

“Whom have we here,” said the trooper, “rising like a phoenix from the flames? Oh! by the soul of Hippocrates, but it is the identical she-doctor, of famous needle reputation. Well, good woman, what means this outcry?”

“Outcry!” echoed Katy, panting for breath. “Is it not disparagement enough to lose a silver spoon, but I must be left alone in this lonesome place, to be robbed, and perhaps murdered? Harvey would not serve me so; when I lived with Harvey, I was always treated with respect at least, if he was a little close with his secrets, and wasteful of his money.”

“Then, madam, you once formed part of the household of Mr. Harvey Birch?”

“You may say I was the whole of his household,” returned the other; “there was nobody but I, and he, and the old gentleman. You didn’t know the old gentleman, perhaps?”

“That happiness was denied me. How long did you live in the family of Mr. Birch?”

“I disremember the precise time, but it must have been hard on upon nine years; and what better am I for it all?”

“Sure enough; I can see but little benefit that you have derived from the association, truly. But is there not something unusual in the movements and character of this Mr. Birch?”

“Unusual is an easy word for such unaccountables!” replied Katy, lowering her voice and looking around her. “He was a wonderful disregardful man, and minded a guinea no more than I do a kernel of corn. But help me to some way of joining Miss Jinitt, and I will tell you prodigies of what Harvey has done, first and last.”

“You will!” exclaimed the trooper, musing. “Here, give me leave to feel your arm above the elbow. There–you are not deficient in bone, let the blood be as it may.” So saying, he gave the spinster a sudden whirl, that effectually confused all her faculties, until she found herself safely, if not comfortably, seated on the crupper of Lawton’s steed.

“Now, madam, you have the consolation of knowing that you are as well mounted as Washington. The nag is sure of foot, and will leap like a panther.”

“Let me get down,” cried Katy, struggling to release herself from his iron grasp, and yet afraid of falling. “This is no way to put a woman on a horse; besides, I can’t ride without a pillion.”

“Softly, good madam,” said Lawton; “for although Roanoke never falls before, he sometimes rises behind. He is far from being accustomed to a pair of heels beating upon his flanks like a drum major on a field day; a single touch of the spur will serve him for a fortnight, and it is by no means wise to be kicking in this manner, for he is a horse that but little likes to be outdone.”

“Let me down, I say,” screamed Katy; “I shall fall and be killed. Besides, I have nothing to hold on with; my arms are full of valuables.”

“True,” returned the trooper, observing that he had brought bundle and all from the ground. “I perceive that you belong to the baggage guard; but my sword belt will encircle your little waist, as well as my own.”

Katy was too much pleased with this compliment to make any resistance, while he buckled her close to his own herculean frame, and, driving a spur into his charger, they flew from the lawn with a rapidity that defied further denial. After proceeding for some time, at a rate that a good deal discomposed the spinster, they overtook the cart of the washerwoman driving slowly over the stones, with a proper consideration for the wounds of Captain Singleton. The occurrences of that eventful night had produced an excitement in the young soldier, that was followed by the ordinary lassitude of reaction and he lay carefully enveloped in blankets, and supported by his man, but little able to converse, though deeply brooding over the past. The dialogue between Lawton and his companion ceased with the commencement of their motions, but a footpace being more favorable to speech, the trooper began anew:

“Then, you have been an inmate in the same house with Harvey Birch?”

“For more than nine years,” said Katy, drawing her breath, and rejoicing greatly that their speed was abated.

The deep tones of the trooper’s voice were no sooner conveyed to the ears of the washerwoman, than, turning her head, where she sat directing the movements of the mare, she put into the discourse at the first pause.

“Belike, then, good woman, ye’re knowing whether or no he’s akin to Beelzeboob,” said Betty. “It’s Sargeant Hollister who’s saying the same, and no fool is the sargeant, anyway.”

“It’s a scandalous disparagement” cried Katy, vehemently, “no kinder soul than Harvey carries a pack; and for a gownd or a tidy apron, he will never take a king’s farthing from a friend. Beelzebub, indeed! For what would he read the Bible, if he had dealings with the evil spirit?”

“He’s an honest divil, anyway; as I was saying before, the guinea was pure. But then the sargeant thinks him amiss, and it’s no want of l’arning that Mister Hollister has.”

“He’s a fool!” said Katy tartly. “Harvey might be a man of substance, were he not so disregardful. How often have I told him, that if he did nothing but peddle, and would put his gains to use, and get married, so that things at home could be kept within doors, and leave off his dealings with the rig’lars, and all incumberments, that he would soon become an excellent liver. Sergeant Hollister would be glad to hold a candle to him, indeed!”

“Pooh!” said Betty, in her philosophical way; “ye’re no thinking that Mister Hollister is an officer, and stands next the cornet, in the troop. But this piddler gave warning of the brush the night, and it’s no sure that Captain Jack would have got the day, but for the reënforcement.”

“How say you, Betty,” cried the trooper, bending forward on his saddle, “had you notice of our danger from Birch?”

“The very same, darling; and it’s hurry I was till the boys was in motion; not but I knew ye’re enough for the Cowboys any time. But wid the divil on your side, I was sure of the day. I’m only wondering there’s so little plunder, in a business of Beelzeboob’s contriving.”

“I’m obliged to you for the rescue, and equally indebted to the motive.”

“Is it the plunder? But little did I t’ink of it till I saw the movables on the ground, some burnt, and some broke, and other some as good as new. It would be convanient to have one feather bed in the corps, anyway.”

“By heavens, ’twas timely succor! Had not Roanoke been swifter than their bullets, I must have fallen. The animal is worth his weight in gold.”

“It’s continental, you mane, darling. Goold weighs heavy, and is no plenty in the states. If the nagur hadn’t been staying and frighting the sargeant with his copper-colored looks, and a matter of blarney ’bout ghosts, we should have been in time to have killed all the dogs, and taken the rest prisoners.”

“It is very well as it is, Betty,” said Lawton. “A day will yet come, I trust, when these miscreants shall be rewarded, if not in judgments upon their persons, at least in the opinions of their fellow citizens. The time must arrive when America will distinguish between a patriot and a robber.”

“Speak low,” said Katy; “there’s some who think much of themselves, that have doings with the Skinners.”

“It’s more they are thinking of themselves, then, than other people thinks of them,” cried Betty. “A t’ief’s a t’ief, anyway; whether he stales for King George or for Congress.”

“I know’d that evil would soon happen,” said Katy. “The sun set to-night behind a black cloud, and the house dog whined, although I gave him his supper with my own hands; besides, it’s not a week sin’ I dreamed the dream about the thousand lighted candles, and the cakes burnt in the oven.”

“Well,” said Betty, “it’s but little I drame, anyway. Jist keep an ‘asy conscience and a plenty of the stuff in ye, and ye’ll sleep like an infant. The last drame I had was when the boys put the thistle tops in the blankets, and then I was thinking that Captain Jack’s man was currying me down, for the matter of Roanoke, but it’s no trifle I mind either in skin or stomach.”

“I’m sure,” said Katy, with a stiff erectness that drew Lawton back in his saddle, “no man shall ever dare to lay hands on bed of mine; it’s undecent and despisable conduct.”

“Pooh! pooh!” cried Betty; “if you tag after a troop of horse, a small bit of a joke must be borne. What would become of the states and liberty, if the boys had never a clane shirt, or a drop to comfort them? Ask Captain Jack, there, if they’d fight, Mrs. Beelzeboob, and they no clane linen to keep the victory in.”

“I’m a single woman, and my name is Haynes,” said Katy, “and I’d thank you to use no disparaging terms when speaking to me.”

“You must tolerate a little license in the tongue of Mrs. Flanagan, madam,” said the trooper. “The drop she speaks of is often of an extraordinary size, and then she has acquired the freedom of a soldier’s manner.”

“Pooh! captain, darling,” cried Betty, “why do you bother the woman? Talk like yeerself, dear, and it’s no fool of a tongue that ye’ve got in yeer own head. But jist here-away that sargeant made a halt, thinking there might be more divils than one stirring, the night. The clouds are as black as Arnold’s heart, and deuce the star is there twinkling among them. Well, the mare is used to a march after nightfall, and is smelling out the road like a pointer slut.”

“It wants but little to the rising moon,” observed the trooper. He called a dragoon, who was riding in advance, issued a few orders and cautions relative to the comfort and safety of Singleton, and speaking a consoling word to his friend himself, gave Roanoke the spur, and dashed by the car, at a rate that again put to flight all the philosophy of Katharine Haynes.

“Good luck to ye, for a free rider and a bold!” shouted the washerwoman, as he passed. “If ye’re meeting Mister Beelzeboob, jist back the baste up to him, and show him his consort that ye’ve got on the crupper. I’m thinking it’s no long he’d tarry to chat. Well, well, it’s his life that we saved, he was saying so himself–though the plunder is nothing to signify.”

The cries of Betty Flanagan were too familiar to the ears of Captain Lawton to elicit a reply. Notwithstanding the unusual burden that Roanoke sustained, he got over the ground with great rapidity, and the distance between the cart of Mrs. Flanagan and the chariot of Miss Peyton was passed in a manner that, however it answered the intentions of the trooper, in no degree contributed to the comfort of his companion. The meeting occurred but a short distance from the quarters of Lawton, and at the same instant the moon broke from a mass of clouds, and threw its light on objects.

Compared with the simple elegance and substantial comfort of the Locusts, the “Hotel Flanagan” presented but a dreary spectacle. In the place of carpeted floors and curtained windows, were the yawning cracks of a rudely-constructed dwelling, and boards and paper were ingeniously applied to supply the place of the green glass in more than half the lights. The care of Lawton had anticipated every improvement that their situation would allow, and blazing fires were made before the party arrived. The dragoons, who had been charged with this duty, had conveyed a few necessary articles of furniture, and Miss Peyton and her companions, on alighting, found something like habitable apartments prepared for their reception. The mind of Sarah had continued to wander during the ride, and, with the ingenuity of the insane, she accommodated every circumstance to the feelings that were uppermost in her own bosom.

“It is impossible to minister to a mind that has sustained such a blow,” said Lawton to Isabella Singleton. “Time and God’s mercy can alone cure it, but something more may be done towards the bodily comfort of all. You are a soldier’s daughter, and used to scenes like this; help me to exclude some of the cold air from these windows.”

Miss Singleton acceded to his request, and while Lawton was endeavoring, from without, to remedy the defect of broken panes, Isabella was arranging a substitute for a curtain within.

“I hear the cart,” said the trooper, in reply to one of her interrogatories. “Betty is tender-hearted in the main; believe me, poor George will not only be safe, but comfortable.”

“God bless her, for her care, and bless you all,” said Isabella, fervently. “Dr. Sitgreaves has gone down the road to meet him, I know. What is that glittering in the moon?”

Directly opposite the window where they stood, were the outbuildings of the farm, and the quick eye of Lawton caught at a glance the object to which she alluded.

“‘Tis the glare of firearms,” said the trooper, springing from the window towards his charger, which yet remained caparisoned at the door. His movement was quick as thought, but a flash of fire was followed by the whistling of a bullet, before he had proceeded a step. A loud shriek burst from the dwelling, and the captain sprang into his saddle; the whole was the business of but a moment.

“Mount–mount, and follow!” shouted the trooper; and before his astonished men could understand the cause of alarm, Roanoke had carried him in safety over the fence which lay between him and his foe. The chase was for life or death, but the distance to the rocks was again too short, and the disappointed trooper saw his intended victim vanish in their clefts, where he could not follow.

“By the life of Washington,” muttered Lawton, as he sheathed his saber, “I would have made two halves of him, had he not been so nimble on the foot–but a time will come!” So saying, he returned to his quarters, with the indifference of a man who knew his life was at any moment to be offered a sacrifice to his country. An extraordinary tumult in the house induced him to quicken his speed, and on arriving at the door, the panic-stricken Katy informed him that the bullet aimed at his own life had taken effect in the bosom of Miss Singleton.

CHAPTER XXIV

Hushed were his Gertrude’s lips; but still their bland And beautiful expression seemed to melt With love that could not die! and still his hand She presses to the heart no more that felt. –_Gertrude of Wyoming_.

The brief arrangements of the dragoons had prepared two apartments for the reception of the ladies, the one being intended as a sleeping room, and situated within the other. Into the latter Isabella was immediately conveyed, at her own request, and placed on a rude bed by the side of the unconscious Sarah. When Miss Peyton and Frances flew to her assistance, they found her with a smile on her pallid lip, and a composure in her countenance, that induced them to think her uninjured.

“God be praised!” exclaimed the trembling aunt. “The report of firearms, and your fall, had led me into error. Surely, surely, there was enough horror before; but this has been spared us.”

Isabella pressed her hand upon her bosom, still smiling, but with a ghastliness that curdled the blood of Frances.

“Is George far distant?” she asked. “Let him know–hasten him, that I may see my brother once again.”

“It is as I apprehended!” shrieked Miss Peyton. “But you smile–surely you are not hurt!”

“Quite well–quite happy,” murmured Isabella; “here is a remedy for every pain.”

Sarah arose from the reclining posture she had taken, and gazed wildly at her companion. She stretched forth her own hand, and raised that of Isabella from her bosom. It was dyed in blood.

“See,” said Sarah, “but will it not wash away love? Marry, young woman, and then no one can expel him from your heart, unless,”–she added, whispering, and bending over the other,–“you find another there before you; then die, and go to heaven–there are no wives in heaven.”

The lovely maniac hid her face under the clothes, and continued silent during the remainder of the night. At this moment Lawton entered. Inured as he was to danger in all its forms, and accustomed to the horrors of a partisan war, the trooper could not behold the ruin before him unmoved. He bent over the fragile form of Isabella, and his gloomy eye betrayed the workings of his soul.

“Isabella,” he at length uttered, “I know you to possess a courage beyond the strength of women.”

“Speak,” she said, earnestly; “if you have anything to say, speak fearlessly.”

The trooper averted his face as he replied, “None ever receive a ball there, and survive.”

“I have no dread of death, Lawton,” returned Isabella. “I thank you for not doubting me; I felt it from the first.”

“These are not scenes for a form like yours,” added the trooper. “‘Tis enough that Britain calls our youth to the field; but when such loveliness becomes the victim of war, I sicken of my trade.”

“Hear me, Captain Lawton,” said Isabella, raising herself with difficulty, but rejecting aid. “From early womanhood to the present hour have I been an inmate of camps and garrisons. I have lived to cheer the leisure of an aged father, and think you I would change those days of danger and privation for any ease? No! I have the consolation of knowing, in my dying moments, that what woman could do in such a cause, I have done.”

“Who could prove a recreant, and witness such a spirit! Hundreds of warriors have I witnessed in their blood, but never a firmer soul among them all.”

“‘Tis the soul only,” said Isabella. “My sex and strength have denied me the dearest of privileges. But to you, Captain Lawton, nature has been more bountiful; you have an arm and a heart to devote to the cause; and I know they are in arm and a heart that will prove true to the last. And George–and–” she paused, her lip quivered, and her eye sank to the floor.

“And Dunwoodie!” added the trooper. “Would you speak of Dunwoodie?”

“Name him not,” said Isabella, sinking back, and concealing her face in her garments. “Leave me, Lawton–prepare poor George for this unexpected blow.”

The trooper continued for a little while gazing, in melancholy interest, at the convulsive shudderings of her frame, which the scanty covering could not conceal, and withdrew to meet his comrade. The interview between Singleton and his sister was painful, and, for a moment, Isabella yielded to a burst of tenderness; but, as if aware that her hours were numbered, she was the first to rouse herself to exertion. At her earnest request, the room was left to herself, the captain, and Frances. The repeated applications of the surgeon, to be permitted to use professional aid, were steadily rejected, and, at length, he was obliged unwillingly to retire.

“Raise me,” said the dying young woman, “and let me look on a face that I love, once more.” Frances silently complied, and Isabella turned her eyes in sisterly affection upon George. “It matters but little, my brother–a few hours must close the scene.”

“Live, Isabella, my sister, my only sister!” cried the youth, with a burst of sorrow that he could not control. “My father! my poor father–”

“There is the sting of death; but he is a soldier and a Christian. Miss Wharton, I would speak of what interests you, while yet I have strength for the task.”

“Nay,” said Frances, tenderly, “compose yourself; let no desire to oblige me endanger a life that is precious to–to–so many.” The words were nearly stifled by her emotions, for the other had touched a chord that thrilled to her heart.

“Poor, sensitive girl!” said Isabella, regarding her with tender interest; “but the world is still before you, and why should I disturb the little happiness it may afford! Dream on, lovely innocent! and may God keep the evil day of knowledge far distant!”

“Oh, there is even now little left for me to enjoy,” said Frances, burying her face in the clothes. “I am heartstricken in all that I most loved.”

“No!” interrupted Isabella; “you have one inducement to wish for life, that pleads strongly in a woman’s breast. It is a delusion that nothing but death can destroy–” Exhaustion compelled her to pause, and her auditors continued in breathless suspense, until, recovering her strength, she laid her hand on that of Frances, and continued more mildly, “Miss Wharton, if there breathes a spirit congenial to Dunwoodie’s, and worthy of his love, it is your own.”

A flush of fire passed over the face of the listener, and she raised her eyes, flashing with an ungovernable look of delight, to the countenance of Isabella; but the ruin she beheld recalled better feelings, and again her head dropped upon the covering of the bed. Isabella watched her emotion with a look that partook both of pity and admiration.

“Such have been the feelings that I have escaped,” she continued. “Yes, Miss Wharton, Dunwoodie is wholly yours.”

“Be just to yourself, my sister,” exclaimed the youth; “let no romantic generosity cause you to forget your own character.”

She heard him, and fixed a gaze of tender interest on his face, but slowly shook her head as she replied,–

“It is not romance, but truth, that bids me speak. Oh! how much have I lived within an hour! Miss Wharton, I was born under a burning sun, and my feelings seem to have imbibed its warmth; I have existed for passion only.”

“Say not so–say not so, I implore you,” cried the agitated brother. “Think how devoted has been your love to our aged father; how disinterested, how tender, your affection to me!”

“Yes,” said Isabella, a smile of mild pleasure beaming on her countenance, “that, at least, is a reflection which may be taken to the grave.”

Neither Frances nor her brother interrupted her meditations, which continued for several minutes; when, suddenly recollecting herself, she continued,–

“I remain selfish even to the last; with me, Miss Wharton, America and her liberties were my earliest passion, and–” Again she paused, and Frances thought it was the struggle of death that followed; but reviving, she proceeded, “Why should I hesitate, on the brink of the grave! Dunwoodie was my next and my last. But,” burying her face in her hands, “it was a love that was unsought.”

“Isabella!” exclaimed her brother, springing from the bed, and pacing the floor in disorder.

“See how dependent we become under the dominion of worldly pride; it is painful to George to learn that one he loves had not feelings superior to her nature and education.”

“Say no more,” whispered Frances; “you distress us both–say no more, I entreat you.”

“In justice to Dunwoodie I must speak; and for the same reason, my brother, you must listen. By no act or word has Dunwoodie ever induced me to believe he wished me more than a friend; nay, latterly, I have had the burning shame of thinking that he avoided my presence.”

“Would he dare?” said Singleton, fiercely.

“Peace, my brother, and listen,” continued Isabella, rousing herself with an effort that was final. “Here is the innocent, the justifiable cause. We are both motherless; but that aunt–that mild, plain-hearted, observing aunt, has given you the victory. Oh! how much she loses, who loses a female guardian to her youth. I have exhibited those feelings which you have been taught to repress. After this, can I wish to live?”

“Isabella! my poor Isabella! you wander in your mind.”

“But one word more–for I feel that blood, which ever flowed too swiftly, rushing where nature never intended it to go. Woman must be sought to be prized; her life is one of concealed emotions; blessed are they whose early impressions make the task free from hypocrisy, for such only can be happy with men like–like Dunwoodie.” Her voice failed, and she sank back on her pillow in silence. The cry of Singleton brought the rest of the party to her bedside; but death was already upon her countenance; her remaining strength just sufficed to reach the hand of George, and pressing it to her bosom for a moment, she relinquished her grasp, and, with a slight convulsion, expired.

Frances Wharton had thought that fate had done its worst, in endangering the life of her brother, and destroying the reason of her sister; but the relief conveyed by the dying declaration of Isabella taught her that another sorrow had aided in loading her heart with grief. She saw the whole truth at a glance; nor was the manly delicacy of Dunwoodie lost upon her–everything tended to raise him in her estimation; and, for mourning that duty and pride had induced her to strive to think less of him, she was compelled to substitute regret that her own act had driven him from her in sorrow, if not in desperation. It is not in the nature of youth, however, to despair; and Frances now knew a secret joy that gave a new spring to her existence.

The sun broke forth, on the morning that succeeded this night of desolation, in unclouded luster, and seemed to mock the petty sorrows of those who received his rays. Lawton had early ordered his steed, and was ready to mount as the first burst of light broke over the hills. His orders were already given, and the trooper threw his leg across the saddle, in silence; and, casting a glance of fierce chagrin at the narrow space that had favored the flight of the Skinner, he gave Roanoke the rein, and moved slowly towards the valley.

The stillness of death pervaded the road, nor was there a single vestige of the scenes of the night, to tarnish the loveliness of a glorious morn. Struck with the contrast between man and nature, the fearless trooper rode by each pass of danger, regardless of what might happen; nor did he rouse himself from his musing, until the noble charger, snuffing the morning air, greeted the steeds of the guard under Sergeant Hollister.

Here, indeed, was to be seen sad evidence of the midnight fray, but the trooper glanced his eye over it with the coolness of one accustomed to such sights. Without wasting the moments in useless regrets, he proceeded, at once, to business.

“Have you seen anything?” he demanded of the orderly.

“Nothing, sir, that we dared to charge upon,” returned Hollister; “but we mounted once, at the report of distant firearms.”

“‘Tis well,” said Lawton, gloomily. “Ah! Hollister, I would give the animal I ride, to have had your single arm between the wretch who drew that trigger and these useless rocks, which overhang every bit of ground, as if they grudged pasture to a single hoof.”

“Under the light of day, and charging man to man, I am as good as another; but I can’t say that I’m overfond of fighting with those that neither steel nor lead can bring down.”

“What silly crotchet is uppermost, now, in that mystified brain of thine, Deacon Hollister?”

“I like not the dark object that has been maneuvering in the skirt of the wood since the first dawn of day; and twice, during the night, it was seen marching across the firelight, no doubt with evil intent.”

“Is it yon ball of black, at the foot of the rock maple, that you mean? In truth it moves.”

“But without mortal motion,” said the sergeant, regarding it with awful reverence. “It glides along, but no feet have been seen by any who watch here.”

“Had it wings,” cried Lawton, “it is mine; stand fast, until I join.” The words were hardly uttered before Roanoke was flying across the plain, and apparently verifying the boast of his master.

“Those cursed rocks!” ejaculated the trooper, as he saw the object of his pursuit approaching the hillside; but, either from want of practice or from terror, it passed the obvious shelter they offered, and fled into the open plain.

“I have you, man or devil!” shouted Lawton, whirling his saber from its scabbard. “Halt, and take quarter!”

His proposition was apparently acceded to; for, at the sound of his powerful voice, the figure sank upon the ground, exhibiting a shapeless ball of black, without life or motion.

“What have we here?” cried Lawton, drawing up by its side. “A gala suit of the good maiden, Jeanette Peyton, wandering around its birthplace, or searching in vain for its discomfited mistress?” He leaned forward in his stirrups, and placing the point of his sword under the silken garment, by throwing aside the covering, discovered part of the form of the reverend gentleman who had fled from the Locusts, the evening before, in his robes of office.

“In truth, Hollister had some ground for his alarm; an army chaplain is, at any time, a terror to a troop of horse.”

The clergyman had collected enough of his disturbed faculties, to discover that it was a face he knew, and somewhat disconcerted at the terror he had manifested, and the indecent attitude in which he had been found, he endeavored to rise and offer some explanation. Lawton received his apologies good-humoredly, if not with much faith in their truth; and, after a short communication upon the state of the valley, the trooper courteously alighted, and they proceeded towards the guard.

“I am so little acquainted, sir, with the rebel uniform, that I really was unable to distinguish, whether those men, whom you say are your own, did or did not belong to the gang of marauders.”

“Apology, sir, is unnecessary,” replied the trooper, curling his lip. “It is not your task, as a minister of God, to take note of the facings of a coat. The standard under which you serve is acknowledged by us all.”

“I serve under the standard of his gracious Majesty, George III,” returned the priest, wiping the cold sweat from his brow. “But really the idea of being scalped has a strong tendency to unman a new-beginner, like myself.”

“Scalped!” echoed Lawton, stopping short in his walk. Then recollecting himself, he added, with composure, “If it is to Dunwoodie’s squadron of Virginia light dragoons that you allude, it may be well to inform you that they generally take a bit of the skull with the skin.”

“Oh! I can have no apprehensions of gentlemen of your appearance,” said the divine, with a smirk. “It is the natives that I apprehend.”

“Natives! I have the honor to be one, I assure you, sir.”

“Nay, I beg that I may be understood–I mean the Indians; they who do nothing but rob, and murder, and destroy.”

“And scalp!”

“Yes, sir, and scalp too,” continued the clergyman, eying his companion a little suspiciously; “the copper-colored, savage Indians.”

“And did you expect to meet those nose-jeweled gentry in the neutral ground?”

“Certainly; we understand in England that the interior swarms with them.”

“And call you this the interior of America?” cried Lawton, again halting, and staring the other in the face, with a surprise too naturally expressed to be counterfeited.

“Surely, sir, I conceive myself to be in the interior.”

“Attend,” said Lawton, pointing towards the east. “See you not that broad sheet of water which the eye cannot compass? Thither lies the England you deem worthy to hold dominion over half the world. See you the land of your nativity?”

“‘Tis impossible to behold objects at a distance of three thousand miles!” exclaimed the wondering priest, a little suspicious of his companion’s sanity.

“No! what a pity it is that the powers of man are not equal to his ambition. Now turn your eyes westward; observe that vast expanse of water which rolls between the shores of America and China.”

“I see nothing but land,” said the trembling priest; “there is no water to be seen.”

“‘Tis impossible to behold objects at a distance of three thousand miles!” repeated Lawton, pursuing his walk. “If you apprehend the savages, seek them in the ranks of your prince. Rum and gold have preserved their loyalty.”

“Nothing is more probable than my being deceived,” said the man of peace, casting furtive glances at the colossal stature and whiskered front of his companion; “but the rumors we have at home, and the uncertainty of meeting with such an enemy as yourself, induced me to fly at your approach.”

“‘Twas not judiciously determined,” said the trooper, “as Roanoke has the heels of you greatly; and flying from Scylla, you were liable to encounter Charybdis. Those woods and rocks cover the very enemies you dread.”

“The savages!” exclaimed the divine, instinctively placing the trooper in the rear.

“More than savages; men who, under the guise of patriotism, prowl through the community, with a thirst for plunder that is unsatiable, and a love of cruelty that mocks the ingenuity of the Indian–fellows whose mouths are filled with liberty and equality, and whose hearts are overflowing with cupidity and gall–gentlemen that are ycleped the Skinners.”

“I have heard them mentioned in our army,” said the frightened divine, “and had thought them to be the aborigines.”

“You did the savages injustice.”

They now approached the spot occupied by Hollister, who witnessed with surprise the character of the prisoner made by his captain. Lawton gave his orders, and the men immediately commenced securing and removing such articles of furniture as were thought worthy of the trouble; and the captain, with his reverend associate, who was mounted on a mettled horse, returned to the quarters of the troop.

It was the wish of Singleton that the remains of his sister should be conveyed to the post commanded by his father, and preparations were early made to this effect. The wounded British were placed under the control of the chaplain; and towards the middle of the day Lawton saw all the arrangements so far completed, as to render it probable that in a few hours he would be left with his small party, in undisturbed possession of the Corners.

While leaning in the doorway, gazing in moody silence at the ground which had been the scene of the last night’s chase, his ear caught the sound of a horse, and the next moment a dragoon of his own troop appeared dashing up the road, as if on business of the last importance. The steed was foaming, and the rider had the appearance of having done a day’s service. Without speaking, he placed a letter in the hand of Lawton, and led his charger to the stable. The trooper knew the hand of the major, and ran his eye over the following:–

“I rejoice it is the order of Washington, that the family of the Locusts are to be removed above the Highlands. They are to be admitted to the society of Captain Wharton, who waits only for their testimony to be tried. You will communicate this order, and with proper delicacy I do not doubt. The English are moving up the river; and the moment you see the Whartons in safety, break up and join your troop. There will be good service to be done when we meet, as Sir Henry is reported to have sent out a real soldier in command. Reports must be made to the commandant at Peekskill, for Colonel Singleton is withdrawn to headquarters, to preside over the inquiry upon poor Wharton. Fresh orders have been sent to hang the peddler if we can take him, but they are not from the commander in chief. Detail a small guard with the ladies, and get into the saddle as soon as possible.”

Yours sincerely,
“PEYTON DUNWOODIE.”

This communication entirely changed the whole arrangement. There was no longer any motive for removing the body of Isabella, since her father was no longer with his command, and Singleton reluctantly acquiesced in an immediate interment. A retired and lovely spot was selected, near the foot of the adjacent rocks, and such rude preparations were made as the time and the situation of the country permitted. A few of the neighboring inhabitants collected from curiosity and interest, and Miss Peyton and Frances wept in sincerity over her grave. The solemn offices of the church were performed by the minister, who had so lately stood forth to officiate in another and very different duty; and Lawton bent his head, and passed his hand across his brow, while the words that accompanied the first clod were uttered.

A new stimulus was given to the Whartons by the intelligence conveyed in the letter of Dunwoodie; and Caesar, with his horses, was once more put in requisition. The relics of the property were intrusted to a neighbor, in whom they had confidence; and, accompanied by the unconscious Sarah, and attended by four dragoons and all of the American wounded, Mr. Wharton’s party took their departure. They were speedily followed by the English chaplain, with his countrymen, who were conveyed to the waterside, where a vessel was in waiting to receive them. Lawton joyfully witnessed these movements; and as soon as the latter were out of sight, he ordered his own bugle to sound. Everything was instantly in motion. The mare of Mrs. Flanagan was again fastened to the cart; Dr. Sitgreaves exhibited his shapeless form once more on horseback; and the trooper appeared in the saddle, rejoicing in his emancipation.

The word to march was given; and Lawton, throwing a look of sullen ferocity at the place of the Skinner’s concealment, and another of melancholy regret towards the grave of Isabella, led the way, accompanied by the surgeon in a brown study; while Sergeant Hollister and Betty brought up the rear, leaving a fresh southerly wind to whistle through the open doors and broken windows of the “Hotel Flanagan,” where the laugh of hilarity, the joke of the hardy partisan, and the lamentations of the sorrowing, had so lately echoed.

CHAPTER XXV