From Kingdom to Colony

by Mary Devereux

  CHAPTER XXXI

  Doak and his charges had gone but a short distance when the sound ofhoofs behind them caused all three to turn, wondering who might beapproaching.

  It was a man, evidently an American by his appearance; and as theylooked back at him, he seemed to check the hitherto brisk gait of hishorse.

  Dorothy was the first to recognize him.

  "Oh, Mary, 't is that dreadful man who frightened us!"

  "Frightened ye?" echoed Doak, interrogatively. "How was that,mistress?"

  When Mary explained what had taken place the night before, he glancedback again, and saw that the distance between them was rapidlyincreasing, for the man in the rear was letting his horse walk, whilehe sat swinging loosely in the saddle.

  "There be naught to fear now," he said, in a way to reassure the twogirls. "He's not like to think o' tryin' any frightenin' game with me.An' he rides like he had too much store o' liquor aboard to be thinkin'of aught but keepin' firm hold on his craft." Then, when he had lookedagain, "He be fallin' way behind, so there's no call for bein'fright'ed, either one o' ye."

  They soon lost sight of the stranger, and without further happeningarrived safely at their destination, to receive a motherly welcome fromMistress Knollys, who had been most anxious concerning them, knowinghow the roads were infested with stragglers from both armies.

  She insisted upon Doak alighting to take some refreshment; and he,nothing loath, did so, while she wrote a letter to her son for thefisherman to carry back to Cambridge.

  Dorothy and Mary also improved the opportunity to write to Jack, Doteven venturing to enclose a little missive for Captain Southorn, whichshe begged her brother to deliver.

  It was her first love letter, although so demure and prim in itswording as scarcely to deserve that name. But a loyal affectionbreathed through it, praying him to hope, and to trust in Washington'sfriendship for them.

  Mistress Knollys listened with widening eyes to Mary's account of theirinterview with the great man,--for she invested him with all the powerof His Gracious Majesty, and regarded him with more awe than ever shehad King George himself.

  She laughed outright over the description of their having been caughtin his apartments, and asked to see the paper he had given Dorothy,touching it as something most sacred.

  Dorothy had gone above stairs, leaving Mary and the good woman togetherin the living-room, where the afternoon sunshine poured across thefloor in broad slants from the two windows opening upon the garden atthe rear of the house.

  Presently Mistress Knollys said, "It would seem, my dear, to be thevery best outcome for Dorothy's matter, the way things have befallen."

  "Yes," Mary assented with a sigh, "so it does."

  "And yet," added the old lady, "I fear it will be hard for the littlemaid, with a brother and husband fighting against one another."

  "Ah, but you forget, dear Mistress Knollys, that he told her he thoughtof setting sail for his home in England."

  "And then I suppose she would go with him."

  "Aye;" and Mary sighed again. "I think she will surely wish to dothis."

  "Well, well, my dear," said Mistress Knollys, speaking more briskly,"that is not like to be right away, as he must await his exchange as aprisoner, and there's no telling when that will come to pass. Let usborrow no trouble until we know the end, which, after all, may be ahappy one."

  It was the fourth day after this that Mary was gladdened by the sightof her husband riding up in front of Mistress Knollys' door; and withhim were Hugh and a dozen other stout fellows on horseback. Heexplained that they had but a short time to tarry, and were come atWashington's command, to carry Dorothy back with them to Cambridge.

  "Hey, you little mischief, see the stir you are guilty ofmaking,--getting half the camp by the ears with your goings on," hesaid laughingly, and in a way to set at rest all her misgivings, as hetook her in his arms.

  "But what am I to go to Cambridge for?" she asked rather nervously,still with her arms around his neck, and holding back her head to get abetter look at his face, in which a serious expression seemed to beunderlying its usual brightness.

  "Did I not tell you,--because General Washington sent us to fetch you?But come," he added more gravely, "we must get away at once. Hastenand get yourself ready and I will tell you all as we ride along."

  "Had I not better go with her?" asked Mary, when Dot had left them.

  Her husband shook his head. "No, it was only Dot we were to bring."

  "But for her to go alone, with a lot of men--" Mary began.

  He put an arm around her shoulder as he interrupted her remonstrances.

  "She goes with her brother, sweetheart, and to meet her husband."

  "But she is coming back?" And Mary spoke very anxiously.

  "Aye, she'll return sometime to-morrow; but for how long is for herselfand the other to decide."

  Then he explained: "The British have a man of ours, one CaptainPickett, a valiant soldier, with a stout arm and true heart. They havehad him these three months, a prisoner in Boston, and we have been mostanxious to bring about his exchange. General Washington has nowarranged this through Southorn, who is to return to-morrow to Boston,and Captain Pickett is to be sent to us. After that, as I have said,we have no right to dictate Dorothy's movements. Captain Southorn hastold me that he should return to England as soon as may be."

  "Then," said Mary in a tone of conviction, and the tears springing toher eyes, "Dot will go with him."

  "Aye, belike," he sighed, "for they love one another truly."

  "And you, Jack, do you--can you look at and speak to this man with anytolerance?" demanded his wife, the asperity of her voice seeming to dryaway the tears.

  "I try to do so, for Dot's sake, and for what he is to her. I've foundhim to be a gentleman, and a right manly fellow, despite the prank ofwhich he was guilty."

  "Well, I shall hate him the longest day I live!"

  Mary could say nothing more, for Mistress Knollys and Hugh now came infrom another room, where they had been together.

  Dorothy had passed this room on her way up the stairs, and seeing Hugh,stopped, while he came forward quickly to meet her.

  "Oh, Hugh, but I am truly glad to see you once more!" she exclaimed."How long, how very long it seems since you went away!" And there weretears shining in the eyes she raised to his face.

  He clasped both her extended hands, and reminding himself of all he hadheard, strove to hide his true feelings, while his mother, from theroom back of them, watched the two in silence, still seeming to hearthe cry he had uttered only a moment before,--

  "Oh, mother, mother, I feel that my heart will break!"

  Dorothy could not but observe the paleness of his face, and the tracesas of recent tears showing about the blue eyes; but she attributedthese to other than the real cause,--perhaps to matters arising betweenhis mother and himself after their long separation.

  "I am glad you have missed me sufficiently to make the time seem longto you, Dot," he replied, well aware, in the bitterness of his ownheart, of how little this had to do with her show of emotion.

  "Aye, I have missed you very much," she declared earnestly. "And somany sad things have happened since!"

  "Yes--and so many that are not sad," he added significantly, desiring,since he might be expected to speak of her marriage, to have it overwith.

  A burning blush deepened the color in her cheeks. She drew away thehands he had been holding all this time, her eyes fell, and she seemedscarcely to know how to reply.

  "I pray God you will be very happy, Dorothy." And his speaking herfull name accentuated the gravity of his voice and manner.

  "Thank you, Hugh," she replied, trying to smile: then, with a nervouslaugh, "And when you return to Marblehead and see Polly Chine, I hope Imay say the same to you."

  The young man forced a laugh that well-nigh choked him. It had beenhard enough to endure before he saw her. But even when he knew fromher brother of her being forced
into a marriage with this Britisher,his heart refused to relinquish all hope, despite what his friend hadtold him of Dorothy's own feeling toward her husband.

  But he had still cherished the idea that somehow, in some way, theymight never come together again; that the Britisher, believing Dorothyto have no love for him, might sail away to England without her, shouldthe fortune of war spare him to do this.

  He also reckoned--hoped, rather--that the girl was so young as torecover from any sentiment this stranger might have awakened within herheart.

  But now, in the light of what had come about and was soon to be, allhope was dead for him. The sight of the face and form he had neverloved so well as now,--when she seemed so sweet and so lovable in hernewly acquired womanliness--all this was unnerving him.

  With these thoughts whirling through his brain, he stood looking ather, while he forced such an unnatural laugh as made her glance at himnervously and draw herself away.

  "I'm not like to see the old town for many a long day, I fear," hemanaged to say, his voice growing less strained as he saw the wonderinglook in her dark eyes; "and as for Polly Chine, you must find one moresuited to my taste before you 've cause to wish me what I now wish youwith all my heart."

  With this he turned hastily away, and his mother asked, "You are goingto get ready to start for Cambridge, child?"

  "Yes," replied Dorothy, "I must leave at once."

  "And can I do aught to help?" the good woman inquired.

  Upon being assured that she could not, she cheerily bade the girl makehaste, and to remember that she was expected to return the next day.

  "I shall miss the child sorely," she said, as the click of Dorothy'slittle heels died away on the floor above.

  Hugh said nothing, but sighed heavily, as he stood looking out of thewindow with eyes that saw nothing.

  His mother went to him and laid a gentle hand upon his broad shoulder.

  "Oh, my son, my dear son," she said in a trembling voice, "my old heartis sore for you. I have hoped for years that--"

  He whirled suddenly about.

  "Don't mother--don't say any more--not now. Let me fight it out alone,and try to keep such a bearing as will prevent her from knowing thetruth."

  Then the passion in his voice died out, and he caressed her gray hairwith a loving touch.

  She drew his face down and kissed him.

  "Come," she said, with an effort at cheerfulness,--"come into the otherroom and have speech with Mary before you go, else she'll think we'velost all proper sense of our manners. This is the first time you andshe have met since her marriage."