CHAPTER VIII.
THE HELP OF JACOB COHEN.
On leaving Maria, Lord Medway went straight to his friend GeneralClinton. He had just dined, and having taken much wine, was bland andgood-tempered. Medway's entrance delighted him. "I have had my orderlyriding about for a couple of hours looking for you," he said. "Wherehave you been Ernest? My dinner wanted flavor without you."
"I have been seeing some people about this son of Bradley's that thePolice Court has in its clutches. By-the-bye, why don't you put a stopto its infamous blackmailing? As a court, it is only a part of Howe'streachery, formed for the very purpose of extortion, and of bringing HisMajesty's Government into disrepute. Abolish the whole affair, Henry.You are court sufficient, in a city under martial law."
"All you say is true, Ernest, and there is no doubt that Matthews andDuBois and the rest of them are the worst of oppressors. But I amexpected to subjugate the whole South this winter, and I must leave NewYork in three or four weeks now."
"The Government expects miracles of you, Henry; but if militarymiracles are possible, you are the soldier to work them. I have foundout to-day why you are not more popular; it is this Police Court, andthey call it a _Military_ Police Court, I believe; and all its tyranniesare laid to you because your predecessor instituted it. They might aswell lay Howe's love for rebels to you."
"Speaking of rebels, I hear most suspicious things of Bradley's son. Infact, he is a spy. Matthews tells me that he ought to have been hungto-day. There is something unusual about the affair and I wanted to talkto you concerning it. Bradley himself has been here and said things thathave made me uncomfortable--you know how he brings the next world intothis one; Smith has been here, also, asking me to pardon the fellow,because the feeling in the city about Tryon's doings in Connecticut isyet like smoldering fire in the hearts of the burghers. Powell has beenhere asking me to pardon, because the spy's father has a thousandbridles to make for the troops going South, and he thinks hanging theyouth would kill his father, or at least incapacitate him for work, andRivington has just left, vowing he will not answer for consequences ifhis newspaper does not sympathize with the Bradleys. If Bradley's sonhad been the arch-rebel's son, there could hardly have been morepetitions for his life. I don't understand the case. What do you say?"
"That Matthews and DuBois have made a tremendous blunder in fining theSemples for disloyalty in the matter. I will warrant the Semples'loyalty with my own."
"So would I. It is indisputable."
"Yet the Elder has been fined two hundred pounds, and Mr. Neil Sempleone hundred pounds, because Bradley's son tied his boat at theirlanding; a fact they were as ignorant of as you or I. And you get theblame and ill-will of such tyranny, Henry. It is shameful!"
"It is," answered Clinton in a tone of self-pity; "the boat, however,was full of goods, about which the young man would say nothing at all."
"Women's bits of lace and ribbons; a mended fan, and some gloves andstockings."
"There was also a Bradley saddle."
"Yes, Bradley acknowledged it."
"Then father or son ought to have given information about it."
"It was their business; and if either you or I were brought before suchan irresponsible court and such autocratic judges, I dare say we shouldconsider silence our most practical weapon of defense. In HarryBradley's position, I should have acted precisely as he did. The wholeaffair resolves itself into a lovers' tryst; the lad would not give thelady a disagreeable publicity; he would die first. You yourself wouldshield any good woman with your life, Henry, you know you would."
And Clinton thought of the bewitching Mrs. Badely and the lovely MissBlundell, and answered with an amazing air of chivalry, "Indeed Iwould!"
"Have you ever noticed a Captain Macpherson, belonging to your ownHighland regiment?"
"Who could help noticing him? He is always the most prominent figure inevery room."
"He will be so no longer. He was almost hissed out of court to-day, andI was told the demonstrations on the street sent him stamping andswearing to his quarters. Well, he is the villain of this pitiful littledrama. The heroine is that lovely granddaughter of Semples."
"I know her; a little darling! and as good as she is beautiful."
Then Medway, with an inimitable scornful mimicry told the story of thepebble and the note, the alarm of the Highland troops, the arrest of theElder and his son, the subsequent proceedings in court, the sympathy ofthe people with the Semples, and the contempt which no one tried toconceal for the informer. Then, changing his voice and attitude, hedescribed Bradley's speechless grief, the Semple's wounded loyalty andindignation, and finally the passionate sorrow of the mistress andsister of the doomed man.
"It is the most pitiful story of the age," he continued, "and if I wereyou, Henry, I would not permit civilians to usurp the power you ought tohold in your own hand. You have to bear the blame of all the crimescommitted by this infamous court. Pardon the prisoner with a stroke ofyour pen, if only to put these fellows in their proper place."
"But there was a cipher message in his possession--here it is. It was inthe binding of a book he carried in his pocket."
"He says he did not put it there. No one can read it. If you found aletter in the Babylonish speech, would you hang a man because you couldnot read the message he carried!"
"Special pleading, Ernest. And he ought to have told who rebound thebook, and to whom he was carrying it. The paper on which the cipher iswritten is my paper. Some one, not far from me, must have taken it."
"Suppose you question Smith?"
"Do you intend to say that Smith is a traitor?"
"I say, ask Smith. I have no doubt he can read the Babylonish foryou--if he will."
"You alarm me. Am I surrounded by enemies?"
"I think you have many round you. I have warned you often. My advice toyou at this time is to pardon young Bradley."
"Why are you taking such an interest in young Bradley?"
"I have no secrets from you, he is my rival."
"Preposterous! How could he rival you in anything?"
"Yet he is my rival in the affections of Maria Semple."
"Then let him hang! He will be out of your way."
"No, he would be forever in my way. She would idolize him, make him ahero and a saint, and worship him in some secret shrine of memory aslong as she lives. I am going to marry her, and I want no secretshrines. He is a very good-looking, ordinary young man; only thecircumstances of the time lifted him out of the average and thecommonplace. Let him go scot free that he may find his level which isfar below the horizon of my peerless Maria."
"I don't think I can let him go 'scot free,' Ernest. I should offendmany if I did, and it would be made a precedent; suppose I imprison himduring the continuance of the war!"
"That is too romantic. Maria would haunt the prison and contrive someway of communication. He would still be her hero and her lover."
"And you will marry this infatuated girl?"
"Yes, a thousand times, yes! Her love for that boy is mere sentiment. Iwill teach her what love really means. She has promised to marry me--ifI save Harry Bradley's life."
"I never saw you taken so with any woman before."
"I never cared for a woman before. The moment I saw Maria Semple it wasdifferent. I knew that she belonged to me. Henry, you are my bestfriend, give me my wife; no one but you can do so."
"Ernest! Ernest! You ask a great thing."
"Not too great for you to grant. You have the will and you have thepower. Are you not going to make me happy, Henry?"
"Privately, it would be a delight to humor you, Ernest; but officially,what am I to say to Matthews, DuBois and others."
"Tell them, that as a matter of military policy, you wish the prisonerreleased. Why should you make explanations to them? Oh, they are suchcourtiers, they will smile and do all you wish. You are above theirrascally court; reverse their decision in this affair and show them yourpower. Believe me, it will be, politicall
y, a wise step."
There was silence for a few moments, and then Clinton said: "I am sorryfor the Semples. I like them both, and there is something about thesaddler that sets him above other men. But it would not be right to letthis young spy--for he is a spy--off, without some punishment."
"I think that is right."
"He must be told that he will be shot on sight if he enters New Yorkagain."
"He will deserve it."
"And I will have him drummed out of the city as a rogue and a suspect.We will make no hero of him--quite the contrary."
"I oppose nothing of that kind. I ask for his life and his freedom,because he stands between Maria Semple and myself. If I wanted any otherreason, because I thoroughly respect his father, and am on excellentterms with his sister, who has been very hospitable to me and who is aremarkable girl. It has troubled me to-day to remember her lonely sorrowand anxiety."
"You have given me three good reasons for granting your request, andhave omitted the strongest of all, Ernest."
"What is that, Henry?"
"That I love you."
"And I love you. You have always been like a big brother to me; alwayspetted me and humored my desires."
"Well, then, I will see Matthews and DuBois in the morning."
"Send for them here to-night. If their court is a Military Police Court,you are Commander-in-Chief."
"Right! I will send for them. It is only about nine o'clock."
"And you will insist that the prisoner be given his life andfreedom--nothing less?"
"I give you my word for it. But I will have him punished as I said. Hemust be prevented from coming to New York again. This kind of thing cannot happen twice."
"I know. If words could thank you, Henry, I would say them."
"Nonsense, Ernest; what are words between us? We know each other'sheart;" then he laid his arm across his friend's shoulder and theirhands clasped; there was no need of words.
Very early in the morning Maria and Agnes received the good tidings.Maria was asleep when Medway's letter, with a basket of hot-house fruitwas brought to her. Agnes was making her father's coffee, and they bothlooked at the unexpected letter with a fearful anticipation. But as soonas Agnes glanced at it, she perceived that it brought good news, and shegave it to her father. She could not speak, and for a few minutesBradley was equally silent. Not that they were ungrateful, oh, no! Theywere only inarticulate. They had a gratitude so deep and holy that theyhad no words with which to express it; and when the happy father foundspeech, it was weak and tremulous as that of a man in the lastextremity. _"I was brought low, and He helped me!"_ That was all, but hestood up, steadying himself by his chair, and uttered the verse with areverence and holy joy that no language can describe.
In a little while he began to talk to his daughter. "I knew God wouldnot fail me," he said. "Yesterday afternoon I did all I could, and thenI left the rest with Him. I saw General Clinton and said a few wordswhich he could not gainsay. I saw Smith, and told him plainly if Harrydied, he should translate that cypher message to the Commander-in-Chief.I saw Powell, and many others, whom _I hold at my mercy_, and they know_that_ now, if they never knew it before. Andrews left New York an hourafter I saw him; he is a fearful creature and he believed I would speak,though Harry had been silent; well, I must see the boy as soon aspossible, there is certain to be some difficulty that only gold canovercome. I hope they will not imprison him."
"Lord Medway says, he will be set free."
"Thank God!"
He rose with the words and Agnes brought him his top-coat. Then, as theystood face to face, she was shocked at the ravage thirty hours oftravail in the shadow of death had made on him. "Father," she said, "oh,father, forgive me! I did wrong to deceive you! I did wrong!"
"Yes, my girl, you did wrong; and nothing right can come from wrong; butAgnes, I have been worse than you. I, also, have been living a deceitfullife, thinking that the end justified the means. I set you the example.Your fault is my fault. We have both been trying to do the right thingin _our own way_. We have been patriots, as Nicodemus was aChristian--by night. That is wrong. We must do right first hand, notsecond hand. From this hour that kind of thing will be sinning with oureyes open; it will be looking God's Commandments in the face, and thenbreaking them. Do you understand, Agnes?"
Then he went away, and Agnes tried to turn to her household duties. Shewondered if Maria would come and see her or if she ought to go to Maria,and while she was debating the question Neil called. He was muchdepressed. The good news about Harry only affected him through Agnes,and he was very anxious about his father, who was in a high fever andwas constantly talking of his fine and his inability to pay it. "MaybeI'll hae to go to prison for the debt," was his constant cry, and Neilfelt that his father's fine must be satisfied, no matter at what cost.So it was a troubled little visit; the day before each was so uncertain,so full of probabilities which the slightest momentum might divert toeither joy or sorrow. They could not feel that their congratulationswere full ripe; something might yet happen to destroy their hopes.
Neil went first to his office. He found Mr. Curtis preparing for thecourt, and as yet unaware of the decision in Harry's case; "but it is agreat piece of good luck for the young scamp," he said, when Neil toldhim, "for he's a spy, if ever there was one. I have no doubt he deservesdeath, fifty times over."
"I have no doubt there are fifty men in New York who deserve it morethan he does--men of power and prominence."
"I would keep such observations to myself, Neil. Your father is far toooutspoken and he is paying for it now."
"I hope my father will never be less outspoken."
"Well, as I say, he has to pay for his opinions. He has two hundredpounds to pay, but then he had his two hundred pounds worth offault-finding."
"What do you mean, Curtis?"
"Don't you remember how imprudently he spoke about Mr. Hulen'simprisonment?"
"He said nothing but the truth. Mr. Hulens is the most loyal ofgentlemen, but because he was not sufficiently polite to a town major,he was imprisoned with felons and vagabonds and afterward compelled topublicly apologize. It was an infamous wrong."
"Precisely what the Elder said. It has not been forgotten."
"There were the two De Lanceys----"
"Yes, to be sure! And why did he trouble himself about them? There areenough of De Lanceys to look after De Lanceys."
"The injustice of the affair was every man's business. These two DeLanceys were private gentlemen, who, because they had some wordswith a German chasseur, were seized in their homes and tried bycourt-martial--though they had no connection whatever with the army: atthe worst it was a simple assault, the most trifling offense the civillaw notices, yet the De Lanceys were degraded and imprisoned for twomonths, and then compelled to beg this German mercenary's pardon beforeall the troops at Kingsbridge. Remember Mr. Hicks, turned out of hishotel by General Patterson at the request of that unmentionable creatureLoring--because Loring wanted it for one of his parasites. Remember poorAmberman, the miller at Hempstead, who, because he asked Major Stocktonfor payment for the flour he had bought, was nearly flogged to death,and then run through with Major Crew's sword, and kicked out of theway--dead. Nothing was done to Stockton; I met him on the street an hourago, still an officer in His Majesty's service. I could add one hundredexamples to these--but what is the use? And why are we lawyers? There isno law. The will of any military officer is the law."
"Still we are lawyers, Neil; and special counselors to three of thecommissaries."
"I shall not be counselor much longer. I am going to write myresignation now."
"Are you mad? These fees are about all the ready money we make."
"I should deserve to be called mad, or worse, if I continued to serve agovernment which had just fined me for not being careful of itsinterests."
"For Heaven's sake, don't throw hundreds a year away for a figment!"
"Honor is something more than a figment. But you had better go t
o courtearly this morning. When you come back, I want you to let me have twohundred pounds until I can sell some property."
Curtis burst into a loud laugh: "I could not let you have two hundredshillings," he said. "Good gracious, Neil, how can you suppose I havemoney to spare?"
"I know you have money, but if you are averse to lending it, that is adifferent thing. I thought you might have some memory of all I have donefor you."
"I have. Of course I have. You have put thousands of pounds in my way;I don't deny or forget it, but I have a family----"
"I understand. I wish you would hasten about Bradley's case. His fatherwill be expected to pay for their service."
"I suppose his case is settled. I am sorry he has got off--deuced sorry!A saucy youth who looked defiance at his betters all the time."
"Were they his betters?"
"He ought to be hung!" And he went on talking rapidly about Bradley'sdeserts. Neil knew the bluster was affected in order to preventrecurrence to the subject of money, and with a heart hot and wounded hesat down to write his resignation of the offices which were hisprincipal support. Curtis was disconcerted and uneasy, and his lastwords on leaving the office were an entreaty to Neil to do "nothingfoolish and hasty." But the papers were written, and then he tookhimself to the proper departments.
He was woefully unhappy. His father's and mother's condition made hisstrong heart tremble, and though no one could have supposed from hisappearance that he had a single care, the sudden falling away of hisfriends and acquaintances wounded him like a sword.
As he walked the streets, so gravely erect, so haughtily apart, he wasmade to feel, in many ways, that he had lost in public estimation. Noone took the trouble to ask him a favor or stopped to seek his opinion,or told him bits of gossip about events transpiring. He was classed withthe Bradleys. The Misses Robertson passed him with the most formal ofrecognitions; Miss Smith did not notice him at all, while Joris VanEmerslie, who had taken his advice the previous week about the sale ofhis business, crossed the street to avoid him.
Friends were not far behind enemies. As he stood a moment on the stepsof the barracks commissary, Judge Lawson, an old man and an intimateacquaintance of the Semples, stopped and said, "Good-morning, Neil. I amglad to see you here. I heard Cornelius Bloch had asked for yourposition and was likely to get it."
"I did not resign my position, Judge, until five minutes ago. Thecommissioners have not yet received it."
"Very true, but every one knew you must resign--the servants of the Kingmust be above suspicion, eh?"
"Suspicion, sir!"
"Now, now, Neil! You must keep your temper for younger men; I am too oldto be bluffed."
Then Neil walked silently away, and the old friend of the family watchedhim with a queer mingling of pity and satisfaction. "Proud creatures,them Semples, old and young," he muttered; "but good, true hearts inthem, I'm half sorry for Neil, he was always ready to do me a kindness;but a little pull-down won't hurt him, he carries his head too high foranything."
But high as Neil carried his head, his heart was in the depths. Itseemed to him that all the fair, honorable life he had built was fallinginto ruin. He needed now both help and sympathy, and his friends lookedcoldly upon him, or took the same reproving tone as the self-righteouscomforters of the man of Uz. Full of bitter thoughts he was walking downQueen Street, when he heard a soft, familiar voice, almost at his ear,say, "Mr. Semple! Honored sir, will you speak to me for a few minutes?"He looked up quickly, and saw that he was close to the doorstep of JacobCohen, the Jewish dealer in fine furniture, china, jewelry, etc.
"Certainly, Mr. Cohen," he answered, as he stepped inside the gloomywarehouse, crowded with articles of great beauty and astonishing value.
"Will you sit here, if you please, sir," and Cohen drew a large stoolforward for Neil; "I must not detain you, your time is worth much money,many people wish to buy it, but it is land I would buy, if you will sellit to me."
"Land, Mr. Cohen! Perhaps a house----"
"No, it is the land you own next to our synagogue. If you will remember,I had it in my heart to buy this plot of ground six years ago. I thoughtthen we could build a larger temple, one more worthy for our worship;but we did not reach agreement at that time and then came the war. Ioffered you then, four hundred pounds for the land; to-day I make youthe same offer if you will take it."
Neil's emotion was almost beyond his control. For a few minutes he couldnot answer the proposition, but Cohen had the patience of the Jew, andhe divined the young man's agitation and mental tremor. Silent andmotionless he waited for Neil's reply. It came strained and hesitating,as if speech was an effort.
"Mr. Cohen--I will sell you the land--yes, indeed! As you say, for fourhundred pounds."
"To-morrow? Can the sale be completed to-morrow?"
"I will prepare the papers to-day."
"I am well pleased."
"Mr. Cohen, this is a great surprise--a good surprise--you do notunderstand how good. I believe it is something more than business youintend; it is sympathy, kindness, friendship."
"It is business, but it is kindness also, if you will accept it. Yourhouse have ever done me good, and not evil. I and mine prayed foryou--yes, the Jew knows the pang of injustice that must be borne withoutprotest and without redress."
"You have done my family and myself an unspeakable kindness. I were theworst of ingrates not to acknowledge it," and Neil rose and offered hishand. And when Cohen took it, and held it for a few moments within hisown, a marvellous change passed over the old man. The timid attitude,the almost servile respect, vanished; his face beamed with a loftyexpression, his eyes met Neil's frankly; in the prosaic surroundings ofthe dark, crowded shop he looked, for a few moments, like an Easternprince.
As they stood thus together, Neil longing to say something that shouldshow his deep gratitude and friendship, and forgetting that Israel inAmerica at that day still preserved much of their Oriental seclusion inhousehold matters, asked after his daughter, Mrs. Belasco. "I have notseen her since her marriage," he said; "but I can never forget her. Itwas her promptitude in the duel between Captain Hyde and myself thatsaved my life."
"She has a good heart;" then suddenly, "come, come into my home, yes,come in and see her."
He walked toward the back of the shop and Neil followed him into alarge, low room, where there was a table covered with a white cloth.Another white cloth, folded lengthwise, shielded the bread and the chinalaid ready for the noonday meal. Cohen stood at the entrance andpermitted Neil to pass in. As he did so, a small, dark Jew rose andbringing forward a chair, said, "Welcome be the guest."
"This is Mr. Belasco," said Cohen, and then Neil knew the woman who wasstanding behind Mr. Belasco's chair. It was the still beautiful Miriam.The happiness of perfect love lighted the dusky white of her complexionand filled her glorious eyes. A brilliant silk kerchief was thrown overher black hair, and she wore a rich, flowing garment of many colors.There were gems in her ears and around her neck, and her slim, brownfingers sparkled with sapphires and diamonds. Behind her was thewhitewashed wall of a room on which was traced some black Hebrewcharacters--wise or comforting passages from the Psalms or the Prophets;and on shelves of ordinary wood, a quantity of beautiful china, somesilver vessels, and a copper lamp with seven beaks, brightly polished.Before her sat Belasco, his swarthy face revealing both power andintellect, purposely veiled beneath a manner of almost obsequiousdeference. But his voice, like Cohen's, was full of those vague tones ofsoftness and melody, of which Orientals preserve the eternal poetry,with the eternal secret. Outside, but within sight and hearing, was thevibrant, noisy, military life of New York--western turmoil--hurry ofbusiness--existence without pause; but here, in this grave, unornamentedroom, with its domestic simplicity and biblical air, was the veryatmosphere of the East.
Neil, who really possessed the heart and the imagination of a poet, feltthe vibration of the far-off life, and even while addressing Mr.Belasco, had visions of palm-trees and of deserts an
d of long, longjourneys with the caravans of camels, from oasis to oasis. He wasstanding amid the children of the patriarchs. These souls were of olderrace than himself; they had the noblest of kindreds, a country that wasthe mother of nations.
With the ideal respect born of such thoughts he offered his hand to Mrs.Belasco. Then she called her children and proudly exhibited them toNeil, and in a few moments a slave brought in a dish of lamb stewed withrice and herbs, some dates, a plate of little cakes strewed with carawayseeds, and some strong coffee. A roll of bread was at each plate, andCohen broke his with Neil. Miriam did not eat with them; she waitedsilently on their wants, her face beaming with pleasure and goodwill.And Neil felt as if he had suddenly passed through a little wooden doorinto the life of the far East.
He said something like this, and Cohen answered, "God has said to us, asto His servant Abraham, Get thee out of thy country, and from thykindred. We are the wayfarers of the Eternal, confessing still, asMoses in the Law taught us--'a Syrian ready to perish was my father.'"Deut. 26:5.
It was an unlooked-for and wonderful hour, and Neil left the shop ofJacob Cohen a very different being from the depressed, anxious man whohad entered it an hour previously. His first thought was his father andmother, and he went to his office, wrote the following note, and sent amessenger with it to them:
MY HONORED AND BELOVED PARENTS: I have sold a plot of land in Mill Street for four hundred pounds, and the fines will be paid to-morrow. We shall not require to borrow a farthing from any one. Be at ease. I will come to you as soon as I have written the necessary transfer papers. Your affectionate son, NEIL.
Then an unconquerable desire to see Agnes, or at least to do somethingfor her, took entire possession of him; and he laid aside his business,and went as rapidly as possible to the Bradley house. But Agnes wouldnot see him. She asked to be left alone, and Neil understood her need ofsolitude, and respected it. In Maiden Lane he met Lord Medway, who said,"I have been at your office seeking you, Mr. Semple. Young Bradley is tobe put outside the city at two o'clock to-day."
"He is pardoned then, on what conditions?"
"He will be shot on sight if he comes within five miles of New York; andI fear he will not have a pleasant escort to the barricade."
"You mean that he will be drummed out by the military and assaulted bythe mob?"
"Yes, the court said, as a vagabond and spy and common rogue against HisMajesty's government and interests."
"Oh! I suppose the court is right; there is nothing to be done."
"His father has sent a number of men with some message to all therespectable burghers he can influence; and I think Bradley can influencea great many, either through their fear of him, or their respect forhim."
"What does he propose to do? He can not prevent this publicdemonstration, and he ought not to try to do so. His son has got offmiraculously well. It is his place to submit and be grateful."
"He tells me the last man drummed out of town was nearly killed by themissiles thrown at him, and did lose the sight of one eye. He proposesto prevent the mob's playfulness, if he can."
"But how?"
"He has asked a number of the tradesmen and merchants in the city tosend their apprentices and clerks, and thus, by influence and example,keep the unruly element in check. No one can prevent their presence. Infact, good citizens are expected to countenance the rogue's punishment.I may show myself at some point of the route," he added, with a laugh;"I have a little friend who may ask me about it," and he lookedcuriously at Neil, wondering if Maria had told him how the miracle hadbeen performed which saved Harry's life.
But Neil made no sign, and Medway continued: "I wish you would dinewith me this evening, Mr. Semple. I have something of importance to tellyou. I dine at five, shall we say at The King's Arms. Afterward I willwalk home with you, if I may."
"I will join you at five o'clock. What time does the young man begin hismarch, and from what point?"
"From Whitehall Slip to Dock Street, Hanover Square, Queen Street, CrownStreet, William Street, King George Street to the Boston Road, and so tothe eastern gate of the barrier. I rather think the companions of thejourney will be few in number ere they reach the barrier. They startabout two o'clock I believe. You will not forget dinner at five?"
Then the young men parted and Neil went to his office to consider hismovements. Events had happened with a celerity that made him nervous anduncertain. He was used to method and plenty of time. Hurry, under anycircumstances, destroyed his balance. Between his father and mother,Agnes, Maria, John Bradley and his son, Jacob Cohen and Lord Medway, hefelt as if in a whirlwind. He wanted an hour of solitude in which tocollect himself. But his office, that usually quiet, methodical place,was this day full of unrest. His partner was fuming at Harry Bradley'srelease, and wondering "what on earth was the use of the law, or thenecessity for lawyers to interpret it?"
"There is now no necessity for either law or lawyers," answered Neil;"we may pack our books and lock our door."
"Neil, I have been thinking how I could manage to get two hundred foryou."
"It is not necessary. I am sorry I spoke to you on the subject."
"I hope you have reconsidered the question of resignation."
"I sent in my resignation this morning."
"Of course the commissioners will include me with you."
"Not necessarily."
"Yes, necessarily; and I think you have been very selfish and unkind."
"My honor."
"My wife and children! They are of as much account as your honor."
Then Neil rose and went out again; there seemed no peace anywhere, hehad scarcely reached the street when he heard in the distance themocking strains of the drums and the fifes. They sounded so intolerablethat he fled to his home to escape their cruel clamor. His mother sawhis approach and was at the door to meet him. Her face looked strangelygrey and thin, but it had something too of its old spirit andcheerfulness as she said:
"Neil, my dear lad, your letter set our old hearts singing. How did youmanage it? Who helped you?"
"God and Jacob Cohen helped me," he answered. "The Jew has bought myland in Mill Street, and the strange thing is that he bought it out ofrespect and sympathy for my father. I am as sure of that as I am thatJacob Cohen is the only Christian in New York who remembered us for pastkindness or cared for us in present trouble. I want to rest an hour,mother; I have an appointment with Lord Medway at five o'clock, and Ifeel like a leaf that has been blown hither and thither by the wind fortwo days. You might tell Maria that Agnes Bradley's brother will beoutside of New York, a free man, in an hour."
"I am glad he is out o' our life, anyway. Much sorrow and loss he hasbrought us, and you will see that Maria's good name will be none thebetter for being mixed up with the affair."
"That is Macpherson's fault. For her sake, and for your sake, he mighthave held his tongue. I will not forgive him."
"His duty, Neil----"
"Nonsense! He could have given the information without bringing inMaria's name. He was mad with wounded vanity, it was a miserable,cowardly bit of revenge."
"I don't think he is a coward."
"He is; any man is a coward who takes his spite out on a woman, and youhave been so kind, so motherly to him. He is a disgrace to the tartan:but I want an hour's rest, and tell father to be perfectly easy aboutthe money. I shall have it in the morning. It rests on Cohen's word; Iknow no better human security."
"Are you not hungry?"
"I had dinner with the Cohens, a simple, excellent meal."
"The world is tapsalteerie; I wonder at nothing that happens. Did yousee the young man? I mean Bradley's son?"
"Not I. I did not want to see him. I heard the drums and got out ofsight and hearing as quickly as possible. I believe his father hasmanaged the affair very wisely; I should not wonder if the rogue's marchturns out more of a triumph than an ig
nominy."
In a measure Neil's judgment proved to be correct. Respectable youngmen, charged to discountenance riotous abuse, began to join theprocession at its outset, and this element was continually augmented. Asthey passed Bradley's shop, Bradley himself stepped out of it andwalking at the head of the line, took his place at Harry's right hand.No one interfered. The drummers and fifers in front did not see him, andthe stupid Waldeckers, ignorant of English and of everything but theroutine of their regiment, took him as a part of the event. He wasdressed in black cloth, with a white lawn band around his neck, and ifthey speculated about him at all, they thought he was a clergyman, andconcluded the prisoner was to be hung at the barrier.
THE DRUMMERS AND FIFERS IN FRONT DID NOT SEE HIM.]
But Harry turned to his father a face full of love and gratitude. Theyouth's self-control was complete, for his disdain of the wholeproceeding was both breastplate and weapon to him. He was bare-headedand with the wind in his hair and the sunlight in his eyes he wentswinging onward to the song of victory he heard in his own heart. By theside of his father's massive contour and stern countenance, Harry lookedlike some young Michael, bright-faced and fearless.
Now and then a taunt was hurled at the lad, and occasionally a jibe farmore tangible, but of neither missile did he show the leastconsciousness. The presence of his father touched the rudest heart. Heremoved his hat when he saw his son's uncovered head, and his grey hairsevoked far more pity than contempt. When they passed through thefashionable residence streets, the sympathy was even remarkable; windowswere thrown up, handkerchiefs fluttered, and now and then a shrilllittle _"bravo!"_ made Harry look up and catch the influences of pityand admiration that women, young and lovely, and women, old and wayworn,rained down on him. As Medway predicted, the crowd melted away longbefore the barrier was reached, for the mood of mischief was not in it.The fifes screamed and the drums beat, but could not summon the devilishspirit of mob violence, and Harry Bradley's tramp to the Rogue's Marchwas a much more quiet and orderly affair than the Police Court intendedit to be.
At the barrier the gate was flung open, and, in the midst of afanfaronade of discordant sounds and scornful shouts Harry was hustledoutside. But his father had found opportunity to give him gold and totell him a negro was waiting with a swift horse behind the gates; andjust at the last moment, amid the scoffing and jeering of the soldiers,he put his arms about his son's neck and kissed and blessed him. He haddrunk the shameful cup to the dregs with the lad, and he turned to thelittle gathering a face that awed them. As one man they moved aside tolet him pass, and for a few moments watched him, as, with a mightystride he took the road homeward. For he looked beyond his nature largeand commanding, and he walked as if moved by some interior force thatwas beyond his control. Men gazed at him with awe and pity, but no oneventured to speak to him.
As he approached his home the inner momentum that had carried himwithout let or hinderance at a marvelous speed seemed to fail; hefaltered, looked round wearily, and then stumbled forward, as if he hadcharged his spirit for the last mile of life. When he reached his gatehe could not open it, and Agnes ran out to help him; speech wasimpossible, but with a pitiful glance he let her lead him into thehouse. Leaning on her, he stumbled forward until he reached the sofa,then, with a great cry he fell backward.
Fortunately, Neil Semple at that moment entered the house, and he wasinstantly at Bradley's side, rendering, with Agnes, the help at oncenecessary, and soothing the afflicted man with words of such sympathyand affection as few mortals had ever heard pass the lips of NeilSemple. "Mr. Bradley," he entreated, "do not fail yourself at this hour!We are all so sorry for you--all ready to weep with you--think ofAgnes--are you suffering?--Shall I go for a physician? What is thematter? Speak to me, Mr. Bradley."
"Sir," he answered, stretching out his trembling arms, "sir, I canneither see nor hear."
A Song of a Single Note: A Love Story Page 8
