CHAPTER II
The bridle was lying slack upon the neck of the horse, who picked hisway carefully along the road, his hoofs now clicking over the stonyhighway, now falling noiselessly upon the brown pine needles. And theoccasional clatter of his shoes, or the busy chatter of a squirrel highup in a tree, were the only sounds to interrupt the musings of thestalwart rider, whose head was bowed, and whose eyes strayed moodilyabout.
He was dark and tall, well knit, and of powerful build, yet lithe andgraceful. The wandering breeze whipped out stray curling locks abouthis ears and temples from the mass of dark hair done up in a queue.The broad-brimmed riding-hat was pulled well down over his stronglymarked brows, and the smooth-shaven face betrayed the compressed lipsof the large but finely formed mouth.
A flash of something white speeding across the road a few yards infront of him caused the dark eyes to open wide, and brought his musingsto a sudden end.
Across the marshes to the left he caught a glimpse of twinkling feet,encased in low steel-buckled shoes that seemed to be bearing away fromhim a fleeting cloud of white drapery.
It was a female, with her so-called "cut" (a dress-skirt so narrow andstraight as to make rapid movement very difficult) thrown up over herhead and shoulders, as she went over the grass toward the beach at theside of the road facing the Neck.
Recognizing her at once, the horseman called out, "Dorothy!" andspurred his horse out of the road and across the marsh.
As though hearing him, she paused, and without lowering the "cut,"turned to look over her shoulder.
The wind, catching her dress, blew the white folds aside, showing aroguish face, and one bearing a strong family resemblance to the man inpursuit. But her features were small and delicate, while his, althoughnot lacking in refinement, were far bolder in strength of outline.
She had the same dark eyes, set far apart under delicate but firmlymarked brows,--the same swart curling lashes, and riotous locks.
But here the likeness ceased; for while his face was grave, and full ofa set purpose and resolution, hers was almost babyish, and full ofwitchery, with a peachy bloom coming and going in the rounded cheeks.
She was panting a little from her running, and now stood, waiting forhim to speak, her red lips parted in a mocking smile that showed tworows of little teeth, white as the meat of a hazel-nut.
"What mischief have you been up to, you little rogue, and why are yourunning away from me?" he asked. He spoke with quiet good nature, butlooked down at her with an elder brother's reproof showing in his face.
She did not answer, but only glanced up at him from the shelteringfolds of the skirt, billowing about her face like a cloud, while thehorse, recognizing a loved playmate, whinnied, and bowed his head toher shoulder as if mutely begging a caress.
"You have been to see Moll Pitcher again," the young man asserted; "andyou know our father would be angry that you should do it. And 't isvery wrong, Dorothy, in these times, that you should be over in thispart of the town alone."
Her brother called her so rarely by her full name that a change fromthe caressing "Dot" to the solemn-sounding "Dorothy" was a sure mark ofhis displeasure.
The smile died from her face, and her eyes fell. But she lookedmutinous, as she raised a small hand to stroke the horse's nose.
"I did not come alone, Jack," she explained. "Leet rowed me over, andPashar came with us; and I had little 'Bitha, too."
"An old darkey, who sits dozing in the boat, half a mile away from you,with his twelve-year-old grandson, and little Tabitha! These make afine protection, truly, had you met with soldiers or other troublesomepeople," he said with some sarcasm. "Do you not know there was a newvessel, filled with British soldiers, went into Salem harboryesterday--and belike they are roaming about the country to-day?" Heswitched his riding-boot as he spoke, scowling as though the mention ofthe matter had awakened vengeful thoughts.
"Hugh Knollys has but just ridden over from Salem; and he said theywere all housed there, along with the Governor," the girl said eagerly,glad to find something to say in her defence, as well as to turn thecurrent of her brother's thoughts.
"Hugh Knollys!" he repeated. "Has he been at our house this day?"
"No-o," she answered hesitatingly. "We met him just now as we came outof Moll's. He is at the Fountain Inn."
"We," he said, a smile showing about the corners of his lips. "Are youHis Gracious Majesty, Dot, that you speak of yourself as 'We'?"
At the sound of her baby name, all the brightness returned to her face,and glancing up at him, she whispered mischievously, "Look in thethicket behind you."
He turned to send a keen glance into the clump of bushes and vinesgrowing some dozen yards closer to the road he had just left; and therehe caught a glimpse of pale blue--like female raiment--showing amid thefoliage.
Wheeling his horse quickly, he rode toward it; and what he now saw wasa tall, blonde girl of eighteen or thereabouts, who arose slowly fromwhere she had been hiding, and came forward with a dignity that savoredof defiance, although there seemed to be a smile lurking in the cornersof her mouth.
Her gypsy hat hung by its blue ribbons on one white rounded arm, baredto the elbow, as the fashion of her sleeve left it. The neck of herpale blue gown was low cut; but a small cape of the same material wasover it,--crossed, fichu-wise, on her bosom, and then carried under thearms, to be knotted at the back.
Her round white throat rose out of the sheer blue drapery in fine,strong lines, to support a regal head, crowned with a glory of palebrown hair, now bared to the sun, and glinting as though goldensparkles were caught in its silky meshes.
As she approached, the rider held up his horse, and sat motionless,staring at her, while a merry peal of laughter, silvery as chimingbells, broke from sixteen-year-old Dorothy.
"Mary Broughton!" the young man exclaimed at length, as he lookedwonderingly at the fair-haired girl.
She paused a yard away and swept him a mocking courtesy as shesaid,--and her musical voice was of the quality we are told is "good inwoman,"--"Aye; at your service, Master John Devereux."
"Then you have been with our madcap here?" he asked, now finding histongue more readily.
"All the afternoon--an it please you, sir," she replied in the sametone of playful irony.
"It does please me," he said, now with a smile, "for it was much betterthan had Dot been alone, as I supposed at first. But think you it issafe for you two girls to come wandering over here by yourselves?" Andin the look of his dark eyes, in the very tone of his voice, there wassomething different,--more caressing than had been found even for hissmall sister, who had now drawn close to them.
Mary Broughton slipped her arm through Dorothy's, and the mockery lefther face.
"I suppose not," she answered frankly. "But, to tell the truth, I hadnot thought of such a thing until you mentioned it. We've not met asoul, save Hugh Knollys, who was riding into the inn yard as we camefrom Moll Pitcher's."
"And so you have been to consult Moll's oracle?" the young man saidbanteringly.
The white lids fell over the honest blue eyes that had been lookingstraight up into his own. The girl seemed greatly embarrassed, and hercolor deepened, while Dorothy only giggled, and slyly pinched the armupon which her slender fingers were resting.
Mary gave her a quick glance of reproof. Then she raised her eyes andsaid hesitatingly, "We heard she was down from Lynn, on a visit to herfather."
"You girls are bewitched with Moll Pitcher and her prophecies," heexclaimed with a laugh.
"Ah--but she tells such wonderful things," began Dorothy, impetuously.But Mary Broughton laid a small white hand over the red lips andglanced warningly at her companion.
"What did she tell?" the young man asked. But now Dorothy only smiled,and shook her head.
"Come, Dorothy," Mary said, "we had best get back to the boat." Andshe turned to go; but the younger girl hung back.
"Are you going to a meeting at the inn, Jack?" she inquired, l
ooking ather brother.
"Little girls must not ask questions," he answered, yet smiling at herlovingly. "But do you hasten to the boat, and get home, Dot, you andMary. It troubles me that you should be about here. Hurry home,now,--there's a good little girl." But he looked at both of them as hespoke.
"Shall you be home by evening?" his sister asked, keeping her facetoward him as she backed away, obliged to move in the direction of thebeach; for Mary, still holding her arm, was walking along.
He nodded and smiled; then riding back to the highway, wheeled hishorse and stopped to watch the two figures making their hurried wayacross the marsh. But his eyes rested longest upon one of them, talland regal, her blonde head showing golden in the waning light, thevivid green of the marshes and the deep purple of the sea making adefining background for the beauty of the woman to whom John Devereuxhad given his lifelong love.
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