CHAPTER XIX.
THE WEARING OF A RED ROSE.
"She gives thee a garland woven fair, Take care! It is a fool's-cap for thee to wear, Beware! Beware! Trust her not. She's fooling thee!" --LONGFELLOW.
The winter that followed was a quiet one in Hillsboro'. Joscelyn sewedat the flaming poppies of her embroidery during the mornings, rode withBetty or Mary Singleton over the commons in the afternoons when the snowwas not too deep, and in the evenings played cribbage with her mother orsang to the sound of her spinet in the fire-lighted parlour. Now andthen news of the outside strife came over the mountains or out of thefar reaches to the north and east; but the red wave of war spent itselfbefore it reached the inland town. Washington was jealously watching theBritish in New York, and in the south the fate of Charleston was rapidlybeing sealed, while now and then a soldier, coming home on furlough orsick leave, brought tidings of the partisan warfare, ceaselessly wagedthrough the Carolinas and Georgia by Sumter and Marion and other boldleaders; but Hillsboro', upon the Eno, dozed through the long wintermonths.
"This war is worse than tiresome; it's perfectly hateful," JanetCameron said, twisting her yellow curls about her fingers and poutingdisconsolately; "it is making old maids of us whether the men wish itor not. Here I am, eighteen this coming Whitsuntide, and not a genuinesuitor have I had."
"Fie, Janet! Where is Billy Bryce?" asked Joscelyn, in whose room thetwo sat. "Billy has loved you from your pinafore days."
"That baby?" with a scornful accent.
"You did not use to think him such a baby."
"Perchance not; for he is a whole six months older than I, and that is amighty age!"
"What manner of lover do you want now?"
"Oh, a grown man--a big strong fellow with a will of his own, who neverasks for a kiss, but just takes it."
"You little minx! what know you of kissing menfolk?"
"Nothing--that is just it--"
"Janet!"
"--for when Billy blushes like a peony, and politely and decorously begsto kiss my cheek, I am in duty bound to look shocked, and blush back,and say no; nothing else would satisfy my dignity, though I could pinchhim for it! That is why I call him a baby," stoutly maintained the girl,her lips curling, and her voice full of mockery.
"He does not wish to forget his manners."
"To say always 'if you please' for tender favours is not the manners fora lover."
"Since you are so wise, tell me what sort of manners a lover shouldhave."
"Oh, you know without the telling! He ought to be headstrong andmasterful and a--a bold robber when it comes to claiming favours fromhis lady; and full of mock repentance after the theft."
"Well, when Billy comes from the war, I shall give him a hint as to howto mend his behaviour."
"An you did, I should hate you. Why, he does not even know how to writeto a girl. Here is a letter from him in which he sends his duty to hismother--did you ever hear of such idiocy? A love-letter with a messagelike that! A love letter should be private and confidential, filled fullof such sweetness that one pair of eyes alone should read it; and hesends his duty to his mother, forsooth! Why, that prying old creaturewould insist upon reading every line written here if I gave her themessage--and Heaven knows she might, and be none the wiser, for all ofsentiment there is in it is this last sentence, 'I would send you mylove, an I dared; but I would not for the world make you angry or hurtyour maidenly modesty.' Now that is a love-letter for you!"
"Well, it is not deliriously passionate," admitted Joscelyn.
"It is deliriously idiotic. I'd just have him understand that my modestyis not quite so thin-skinned as he imagines."
Joscelyn fell back in her chair, shrieking with laughter, while theyellow-headed tempest before the glass shook her curls, and emphasizedher words with a scouting gesture, "Why, Joscelyn, if I were that boy'sgreat-grandmother, he could not treat me with more deferential respect."
"I think it is beautiful in him."
"Beautiful! Well, I think it is _imbecile_! Hurt my maidenly modesty,indeed!--one would think my modesty were a sore toe to be stubbed ortrod upon. Stop laughing, Joscelyn Cheshire; you are as stupid asBilly." And when Joscelyn answered with another silvery peal, Janet, inhigh indignation, flung out of the room and down the steps, her heelsclattering as she went; and the next morning her maid carried theoffending letter to Mistress Bryce with a sweetly worded note, sayingBilly had no doubt made a mistake in the address of his missive. AndBilly swore his first oath when he heard of it.
Nor was Janet the only one who came to confessional in Joscelyn's room.It was there that Betty found the only outlet for her secret joy. Inspite of the war and its sad consequences, the year had been such ahappy one--the sweetest year she had ever known; for it had been full ofdreams and fancies, of thrills and hopes. Even the self-reproach, withwhich she sometimes tormented herself because of her mother, had in ita touch of sweetness since it was linked with her love. The whole worldwas as a new place; the winter snows held an unthought of revelation ofbeauty, and each flower that budded to the spring sunshine was a freshcreation bearing on its petals an unspelled message of love. She wouldnot write to Eustace, for that would be undutiful to her mother; butJoscelyn's letters were filled with tender messages for her, with nowand then a little wafered note that burnt her fingers with a delicioussense of forbidden fruit, and which she read and re-read in the privacyof her white-curtained room, trembling and flushing at the story theytold,--the future they painted.
But as the spring advanced, a shade of sadness crept over her happiness,a film like the impalpable dust that gathers on a fine picture hangingalways in the light. Eustace had ceased to write. Two months had goneby, and no word had come from him. A strange, new fear was tugging atBetty's heart.
"Naught of evil has befallen him, or Mary would know; and you said theyhad no tidings?" she asked wistfully one evening, as she leaned againstJoscelyn's window and watched the pale-petalled stars blossom throughthe purple gloaming.
"I rode all the way to the Singletons' yesterday afternoon on purpose toask, and they know nothing."
"And his mother feels no uneasiness?"
"None. She says Lord Cornwallis would immediately inform her if heshould be killed."
Betty heaved a deep sigh; and then that latent fear came out, "I supposehe finds the ladies of the city so beautiful and entertaining that hehas forgotten his--his friends here."
"S-o! that is what makes you so long of face these days? Well, I do notbelieve a word of it. Eustace is no jilt. You will find that you atleast are remembered, and that his silence is from reasonable cause."
"His cousin, Ellen Singleton, is such a beautiful woman--you rememberRichard told us of her in his letter about the Philadelphia fete. LikeMary, he said, only more lovely. They must of necessity be muchtogether, for she, too, is in New York."
"And betrothed to Major Grant, you jealous child."
"But that need really make no difference so far as Eustace's admirationgoes. Besides, there must be others as lovely."
"Of course; but you are pretty, too, when your face is not long and youreyes red with weeping."
Betty went home comforted; and that night, when her mother made somesharp remark about the Singleton household, she plucked up courage tosay it was scarcely fair to judge the whole family adversely because ofthe father's shortcomings. And then, scared at her own temerity, sheran away to her room, and cried out her trouble to that insensate andinanimate confessor of wronged or sorrowing womanhood,--her pillow.
A week later, Joscelyn, coming from the Singletons', tied a red ribbonon her shutter as a sign that she had news; and Betty, hastening over,soon learned of Clinton's long and tempestuous voyage from New York toCharleston, whither he went to subdue that city. Eustace had been badlyhurt in the storm that wrecked so many of the transports, and had beenlaid up in the hospital at Tybee Bay for weeks, while Clinton went on toCharle
ston to begin the siege.
So the British had come again to the south to teach the people of thatsection their duty to their king, and the quiet that had reigned atHillsboro' was broken by the coming and going of recruiting parties, andby the vacillating reports of victory or failure from the beleagueredcity.
But it was not until August that the climax came. Then Gates, smartingwith the defeat at Camden, halted the remnant of his flying army,scarcely a thousand strong, at the town on the Eno, to rest and sum upthe full measure of the disaster that had befallen him. During the shorttime that he remained, the town was in a ferment. The way to the campwas thronged with sympathizers; kitchen chimneys smoked with the extracooking, and in every house was a banquet of the best that could be had.Only in the Cheshire house was there no preparation, nor yet upon thedoor was there the blue and buff cockade that marked the others. Therewere not lacking those who called official attention to this fact, andso many comments and criticisms crept about among the soldiers that acouple of young officers, bent on a frolic and thinking to teach thiswilful Joscelyn a needed lesson, stopped upon her porch and sent wordthat they would speak with her. And presently she came down to them,dressed fit to dance in a queen's minuet in silver brocade over ascarlet petticoat, the round whiteness of her neck and arms shiningthrough foamy lace, a red rose in her powdered hair, and a black patchnear the corner of her mouth giving a saucy emphasis to her lips. As shestepped out of the door, the young fellows who had been lounging on theporch rail instantly sprang up and uncovered at the sight of so muchbeauty and dignity. They had thought to find a country maid, mayhap awoman past her youth; and instead, this glowing creature stood beforethem.
"What is your pleasure, gentlemen?" she asked; but the stiff courtesy ofher question was belied by the laugh in her eyes.
They exchanged uneasy glances, and one took a step toward the porchexit; but the other, who was to be spokesman, summing up resolution,stammered and answered:--
"We found no cockade of the nation's colours on your door, and did butstop to ask the reason."
"Your general sent you?"
"No, no; we were but passing, and came of our own accord."
"Oh, a friendly visit, with no official significance? I pray you presenteach other," and she courtesied at each name. "And now let us go intothe parlour and see what can be done for your entertainment."
And in the parlour she gave them the best chairs, and set herself withmuch graciousness of manner to entertain them, plying them with delicatecompliments, singing her Tory ballads with such laughing abandon that inthe same spirit of fun they applauded her, thinking not a moment of thesongs, but of the singer. Later on she brewed them a cup of tea, tellingthem it was a love potion to win a fair one's favour; and although theybegan by protesting vehemently, yet they ended by drinking it, for shefirst put her own lips to the cups, and then dared them with her eyes.After that they would scarcely have hesitated at hemlock. At the end ofan hour she dismissed them, each with a red rose in his coat.
"The colour suits your handsome eyes," she said softly to one, with aravishing glance, as she fastened the flower in place. And to the othershe murmured, with downcast lids and a sweet similitude of faltering,"This is for memory," as though for them both this hour was to be atryst for thought and tender recollection, and the rose its symbol.
Neither of them had the wish nor the will to tear the flower away; andso with a certain crestfallen exhilaration they took their leave, ridingslowly down the street, swearing each other to silence. But the storygot the rounds within the hour, for Mistress Strudwick, seeing thementer the house and fearing some danger or annoyance to Joscelyn, hadfollowed quickly, and sat in the next room with the door ajar during theentire interview. And she was not slow in publishing it abroad, so thatthe young officers were twitted unmercifully at mess and headquarters;even General Gates, when told of it, forgot for a moment the humiliationof his late defeat, and laughed long and loud. Under the banter one ofthe men threw his rose away; but the other held stoutly to his, meetingthe raillery with the assertion that it was a lady's favour and not aking's colour that he wore.
"It was not kindly of you to take such mean advantage of them, Joscelyn,seeing how irresistible you can make yourself, but it was just thecleverest thing you ever did," Janet cried, squeezing Joscelyn's waist."Mistress Strudwick has near had apoplexy with laughter, and evenMistress Bryce--who hates you like a double dose of senna and was thefirst to call attention to your undecorated door--could not keep astraight face to hear how neatly you outwitted the young coxcombs. Butreally, my dear, you deserve no great credit for it; for in that gownyou are fit to melt harder hearts than Providence gave our gallantyoung soldiers."
"I do not flatter myself their hearts were touched; it was only theirvanity that melted like wax in the flame of my flattery."
"Well, they deserved what they got,--trying to teach you behaviour,indeed!"
The next day the army, refreshed and rested, took up its line of march,passing directly in front of the Cheshire homestead. On the veranda, inher brocade and brilliant petticoat and framed by the riotous rose vine,Joscelyn sat and made pretence to be very busy with her flax wheel; butfrom under her drooping lids she saw the whole procession.
Beside his company rode a young lieutenant, his eager gaze ahead of himuntil he reached the undecorated house; then his hat came off, andlifting his lapel on which hung a faded red rose, he cried up to thegirl in the balcony:--
"This is for memory!"
And Joscelyn laughed and fluttered her white handkerchief with whatmight or might not be the suggestion of a kiss. And he, forgetful ofmilitary decorum, turned in his saddle and kept his gaze upon her untilthe troop passed beyond the corner.
"Do you know, Joscelyn," cried Janet, rushing up the steps, her eyesshining and her yellow curls flying in the wind, "that was LieutenantWyley from Halifax--and he is brother to Frederick--and Frederickdanced with no one but me last night (you don't know what you missed innot going to the cotillion!)--and he has been at my house the livelongmorning."
"S-o! You have then a new beau to your string?"
"Oh, yes! and he is strong and masterful, and talks love beautifully,and he does not say 'by your leave' like Billy, but is just what a lovershould be."
"Janet, Janet!" cried Joscelyn, reprovingly; but the laughing girltossed her yellow curls coquettishly, the exhilaration of a new conquestupon her; then suddenly hid her face on Joscelyn's shoulder:--
"Joscelyn, dearest, did you ever feel a lover's lips against your cheekfor just one little moment?"
And Joscelyn went suddenly as red as she, remembering that November daywhen Richard came home.
Joscelyn Cheshire: A Story of Revolutionary Days in the Carolinas Page 19
