CHAPTER XXXII
It was evening when the party reached the headquarters at Cambridge.
A faint afterglow of the brilliant sunset still lingered, but theroadway leading to the entrance of the house was dusky with the shadowsof coming night, which almost hid the great trees on either side.
The air about was filled with the faint hum of camp life. Occasionallya voice could be heard, or the neighing of a horse,--figures of menwere discernible here and there, and a sentry was pacing before thesteps of the mansion.
"Here we are, Dot," said her brother; and dismounting, he helped herfrom her horse. "Careful, child;" for she had tripped, herriding-skirt having become entangled about her feet as she followed himinto the open doorway. "I will take you directly to the room preparedfor you, and do you wait there until I return."
She said nothing, but held fast to his arm.
"Come, be brave," he whispered; "there is naught for you to fear." Andhe led her within, leaving Hugh Knollys with the other men outside.
The hall was spacious and well lighted. Several officers and privateswere moving about, all of whom stared wonderingly at the unusual sightof a lady,--although it was not easy to decide whether it was a womanor child--this dainty little figure in the riding-habit, who waslooking about with unconcealed curiosity.
Far down the hall, to the left, her brother opened a door, showing aspacious, well-furnished chamber, where a wood fire was blazing,--forthe night was drawing in chilly.
"Now take off your hat, child, and feel at home," he said, kissing her."Remember there is naught to fear. It is only that we are wishing tofix matters for you, little one, so that you'll be happy." And hekissed her again as she clung to his neck.
"Ah, Jack," she whispered, "you are so good to me!"
"I've never had the wish to be other than good," he replied lovingly.
As soon as she was alone, Dorothy removed her hat, and then, as shestood by the hearth, watching the leaping flames, smoothed out hercurls.
So engaged, and lost in thought, she did not hear the tapping upon thedoor, nor see that it opened softly and a man's figure paused on thethreshold, as if watching the slight form standing by the fire, withthe back turned squarely to him.
"Little one," came in a voice that startled the silence.
She turned like a flash, and although the firelight did not touch hisface, it was not needed to tell her who it was.
He closed the door, and advanced with outstretched arms, laughing withexultation when she fled to them.
"You are still of the same mind as when we parted?" he said, while heheld her as if never meaning to let her go from him again.
"How can you ask?" And she nestled yet closer to him.
His only answer was to kiss her. Then, bringing a chair to the hearth,he seated himself, and attempted to draw her upon his knee. But shefrustrated this by perching herself upon the arm of the chair, fromwhich she looked triumphantly into his face.
"Your hands are cold, little one," he said, holding them against hischeek.
"We had a long ride," she replied, her eyes drooping before theintensity of his gaze.
"Aye, so you did; are you tired?"
"No, not at all," was her smiling answer, and her appearance did notbelie the words.
"Hungry?"--with a little laugh, and tightening the clasp of his armabout her.
"No," again lifting her eyes to his happy face.
"Well, I have been hungry for days, and with a hunger that is now beinghappily appeased. But a supper is to be ready for you shortly, andthen you are to see General Washington. Do you understand, sweetheart,what all this is about?" He was looking down at the small handsresting in one of his own, and smiling as he noted with a lover's eyehow dainty and white they were.
"Yes," she said, "my brother explained all that to me."
"And you will come with me--now, at once, as soon as I can make myarrangements?" He spoke hurriedly, nervously.
"To England?" she asked, a very serious look now showing in her darkeyes.
"Aye, to England," he repeated in a tone whose firmness wascontradicted by his perturbed face.
Disengaging one hand, her arm stole around his neck as she whispered,"I would go to the ends of the earth with you now."
He held her head away, the better to look into her face, as he saidwith a sigh of contentment: "Now I can breathe easy! You see I did notdare believe you would really come,--you've ever been such a capriciouslittle rebel."
Presently he asked, as he toyed with her small fingers, "Where got youall these different rings, little one?" and a note almost of jealousysounded in his voice. "Here be many pretty brilliants--I thought maidsin this country never wore such. How comes such a baby as you with aring like this?" And he lifted her hand to look at the one which hadattracted his special notice.
"My father gave it to me," she said quietly; "it was my mother's--whomI never saw."
He pressed his lips to the sparkling circlet. "My little wife, I'll bemother, father--all things else to you. All of them together could notlove you more truly and sacredly than do I. Ah, my darling, you havebut poor knowledge of the way I love you, and how highly I prize youresteem. How can you, after the rough wooing to which I treated you?"
Then he whispered, "And where is the ruby ring?"
He felt her head stir uneasily against his shoulder, "Surely you didnot throw it away?" he asked after a moment's waiting.
Dorothy laughed, softly and happily.
"You told me that night at Master Weeks'," she whispered, "that you didnot believe what my lips said, but what my eyes had shown you."
"Aye, so I did, and so I thought when I spoke. But until now I've beentossed about with such conflicting thoughts as scarce to know what tothink."
"That may be so," she said, sitting erect to look at him. "But,believing what you read in my eyes then and before, think you I wouldthrow away the ring?"
"Then where is it?" he asked again, smiling at her earnestness.
For answer she raised her hands to her neck, and undoing the fasteningof a gold chain, drew it, with the ring strung upon it, from where theyhad rested, and laid them both in his hand.
His fingers closed quickly over them as he exclaimed, "Was there eversuch a true little sweetheart?"
Then lifting her into his lap, he said, "You have never yet said to mein words that you really love me. Tell me so now--say it!"
"Think you that you have need for words?" A bit of her old wilfulnesswas now showing in her laughing eyes.
"Nay--truly no need, after what you have done for me, and have said youwould go home with me. But there's a wish to hear such words, littleone, and to hear you speak my name--which, now that I think of it, Iverily believe you do not even know."
She nodded smilingly, but did not answer.
"What is it?" he asked coaxingly, as he would have spoken to a child.
"Ah--I know it." And she laughed teasingly.
"Then say it," he commanded with mock fierceness. "Say it this minute,or I'll--"
But her soft palm was against his lips, cutting short his threat.
"It is--Kyrle," she said demurely.
"Aye, so it is, and I never thought it could sound so sweet. Now saythe rest of it--there's a good child. Ah, little one," he exclaimedwith sudden passion, "I can scarcely yet believe all this is true. Layall doubt at rest forever by telling me you love me!"
The laughter was gone from her eyes, and a solemn light came into them.
"Kyrle Southorn, I love you--I do love you!"
They now heard voices and steps outside the door, and Dorothy sprang toher feet, while Captain Southorn arose hastily from the chair and setit back in place.
It was John Devereux who entered, followed by a soldier.
"Well, good people," he said cheerily, giving the young Britisher aglance of swift scrutiny, and then looking smilingly at Dorothy, "thereis a supper waiting for this small sister of mine; and, Dot, you mustcome
with me--and that speedily, as I am famishing."
He advanced and drew her hand within his arm; then turning with moredignity of manner to the Englishman, he added, "After we have supped,Captain Southorn, I will look for you in your room, as GeneralWashington will then be ready to receive us."
Southorn bowed gravely. Then, with a sudden boyish impulsiveness, heextended his hand.
"May I not first hear from your own lips," he asked earnestly, "thatyou wish me well?"
Jack clasped the hand as frankly as it had been offered, and Dorothy'sheart beat happily, as she saw the two dearest on earth to her lookingwith friendly eyes upon one another.
From Kingdom to Colony Page 33
