From Kingdom to Colony

by Mary Devereux

  CHAPTER XXXIII

  An hour later the three stood before the door of Washington's privateoffice; and in response to John Devereux's knock, the voice that wasnow so familiar to Dorothy bade them enter.

  As they came into the room, Washington advanced toward Dorothy with hishand held out in greeting, and his eyes were filled with kindness asthey looked into the charming face regarding him half fearfully.

  "Welcome," he said,--"welcome, little Mistress Southorn."

  At the sound of that name, heard now for the first time, a rush ofcolor suffused Dorothy's cheeks, while the two younger men smiled,albeit each with a different meaning.

  The one was triumphantly happy, but Jack's smile was touched withbitterness, and a sudden contraction, almost painful, caught his throatfor a second.

  "I trust that my orders were properly carried out for your comfort,"continued Washington, still addressing Dorothy, as he motioned them allto be seated.

  She courtesied, and managed to make a fitting reply. But she feltquite uncomfortable, and somewhat alarmed, to find her small self anobject of so much consideration.

  The Commander-in-Chief now seated himself, and turned a graver face tothe young Englishman.

  "May I ask, Captain Southorn, if the plans of which you told LieutenantDevereux and myself are to be carried out?"

  The young man bowed respectfully.

  "I am most happy, sir, to assure you that they are, and at thespeediest possible moment after I return to Boston."

  Washington was silent a moment, and his eyes turned to LieutenantDevereux, who, seemingly regardless of all else, was watching hissister.

  "And you, Lieutenant, do you give your consent to all this?"

  "Yes, sir." But the young man sighed.

  "And now, little Mistress Southorn," Washington said, smiling oncemore, "tell me, have you consented to leave America and go with yourhusband?"

  "Yes, sir," she replied almost sadly, and stealing a look at herbrother's downcast face.

  "It would seem, then, that the matter is settled as it should be, andto the satisfaction of all parties," Washington said heartily. "And Iwish God's blessing upon both of you young people, and shall hope,Mistress Dorothy, that your heart will not be entirely weaned from yourown land."

  "That can never be, sir," she exclaimed with sudden spirit, andglancing almost defiantly at her husband, who only smiled in return.

  "Aye, child--so? I am truly glad to hear it." Then rising from hischair, he said: "And now I must ask you to excuse me, as I have mattersof importance awaiting my attention, and regret greatly that I cannotspare more time thus pleasantly. You will escort your sister back toDorchester in the morning, Lieutenant?"

  "Aye, sir, with your permission."

  "You have it; and you had better take the same number of men you hadyesterday. Return as speedily as possible, as there are signs of--"

  He checked himself abruptly, but swept away any suggestion ofdiscourtesy by saying, as he held out his hand to the young Englishman,"I'll bid you good-night, Captain Southorn; you see that it is naturalnow to think of you as a friend."

  "It is an honor to me, sir, to hear you say as much," the otherreplied, as he took the extended hand and bowed low over it. "And Ibeg to thank you for all your kindness to me and to--my wife."

  Dorothy now courtesied to Washington, and was about to leave the room,when he stretched out a detaining hand.

  "Stay a moment, child. I am not likely to see you again before youdepart, and therefore it is good-by as well as good-night. You willsee that I have endeavored to do what was best for you, although I mustadmit"--and he glanced smilingly at Jack--"it was no great task for meto bring your brother to see matters as I did. And now may God blessyou, and keep your heart the brave, true one I shall always remember."

  She was unable to speak, and could only lift her eyes to the face ofthis great man, who, notwithstanding the weight of anxiety andresponsibility pressing upon him, had been the one to smooth away thetroubles which had threatened to mar her young life, and who had nowbrought about the desire of her heart.

  But his kindly look at length gave her courage, and she managed to say,although chokingly, "I can never find words in which to thank you, sir."

  He bowed as the three left the room, and no word was spoken while theytook their way down the hall to Dorothy's apartment.

  Jack opened the door and motioned the others to enter.

  "I must leave you now," he said, "and go to see Hugh Knollys. He isnot feeling just right to-night."

  "Why, is he ill? I wondered that he was not at supper with us."Dorothy spoke quickly, her voice trembled, and her brother saw that shewas weeping.

  He followed them into the room and closed the door. Then he turned toDot, and taking her by the hand, asked tenderly, "What is troublingyou, my dear child?"

  She gave a great sob and threw herself upon his breast.

  "'T is because of what he just said--as we left him. It made merealize that I am soon to go away across the sea from you--from all ofyou," she exclaimed passionately. "Oh--how can I bear it!"

  "'T is somewhat late, little sister, to think of that," her brotherreplied, caressing her curly head with the loving touch she had knownever since the childhood days. Then bending his lips close to her ear,he whispered, "See--you are making him unhappy."

  At this she glanced over her shoulder at her husband, who had walked tothe hearth, and stood looking into the fire.

  "Come, little girl, cheer up," said Jack, "for to-night, at least. Youare to have a little visit with him before he returns to his quarters.And before to-morrow noon he will be on the road to Boston."

  With a long, sobbing sigh, she released him; then, as she wiped thetears from her eyes, she said with a wan smile, "It is hard--cruellyhard, to have one's heart so torn in opposite ways."

  He knew her meaning, and thought, as he went away, how small was theirown grief compared with that of poor Hugh, who, utterly unmanned, hadimmured himself in his quarters.

  Dorothy stole to the hearth, where stood the silent figure of herhusband; and as he still did not speak, she ventured to reach out andsteal a timid hand within the one hanging by his side.

  His fingers instantly prisoned it in a close clasp, and so theyremained for a time looking silently into the fire. Presently hesighed, and drawing the chain and ruby ring from his pocket, said verygently, "Will you wear this ring, sweetheart, until such time as I canget one more suitable?"

  "Aye--but I'd sooner not wear any other," she replied, lookingwistfully at him,--awed and troubled by this new manner of his.

  "Would you?" And he smiled as he fastened the chain about her neck."Then I shall be obliged to have the half of it taken away, in order tomake a proper fit for that small finger. But you must let me put on aplain gold band, as well, so that all may be in proper form."

  She caught his hand and laid it against her cheek, while the light ofthe burning wood caught in the ruby ring, making it gleam like aruddier fire against the folds of her dark-green habit.

  "Why are you so unhappy?" she asked.

  "That I am not, sweet little wife," he answered, drawing her to him,"save when I see you unhappy."

  "But I am not unhappy," she protested, adding brokenly, "exceptthat--that--"

  "Except that you cherish a warm love for kindred and home, and one itwould be most unnatural for you to be lacking," he interrupted. "Butnever fear, little one,"--and he stroked her hair much as her brotherhad done--"you will not be unhappy with me, if you love me; and thatyou say you do, and so I know it for a truth--thank God. This warcannot last very long, and I've lost all heart to care whether King orcolony win. To tell the truth,"--and he laughed as he bent over tokiss her--"I fear my heart has turned traitor enough to love best thecause of her I love. So it is as well that I send in my resignation,which is certain to be accepted; and we'll go straight to my dear oldhome among the Devonshire hills, and be happily out of the way of thestrife. And when it is ov
er, we can often cross the sea to your ownhome, and perhaps your brother and his wife--if I can ever make mypeace with her--will also come to us. And so, sweetheart, you see theparting is not forever--nor for very long."

  Thus he went on soothing and cheering her as he seated himself again inthe big chair by the hearth and drew her to his knee. Presently, andas if to divert her thoughts, he said: "Come--tell me something of yourfamily. I have seen them all, as you know, but there are two of itsmembers with whom I never had speech."

  Dorothy puckered her brows and looked at him questioningly.

  "They are wide apart as to age," he added, smiling at herperplexity,--"for one of them is a sweet-faced old lady, and the otheris a lovely little girl with long yellow locks and wonderful blue eyes.She was with you that eventful day at the cave." And he laughed softlyat the thought of what that day had brought about.

  "Why, the old lady was Aunt Lettice, and the little girl is hergranddaughter--'Bitha Hollis, my cousin."

  "She looks a winsome little thing--this 'Bitha," he said, happy to seethe brightness come to Dorothy's face.

  She was smiling, for the names had brought visions of her dear oldhome, and she seemed to see all the loving faces in the fire before her.

  "Yes--and she is a dear child, and full of the oddest fancies." Andnow Dorothy laughed outright as some of 'Bitha's queer sayings came toher.

  She went on to tell her husband of these; and when Jack returned halfan hour later to escort Captain Southorn to his room, he found the twoof them laughing happily together.