The Continental Dragoon

by Robert Neilson Stephens

  CHAPTER XI.

  THE CONQUEST.

  Miss Sally saw at a glance that her niece was dressed for conquest;then, with immense relief and supreme exultation, but with a feelingof exhaustion, knowing that her work was done, she silently left theroom by the door she had guarded, closed it noiselessly behind her,and went up-stairs to restore her worked-out energies.

  Elizabeth wore a blue satin gown, the one evening dress she had, inthe possibility of a candle-light visit from the officers at theoutpost, brought with her from New York. Her bare forearms, and thewhite surface surrounding the base of her neck, were thus for thefirst time displayed to Peyton's view. A pair of slender goldbracelets on her wrists set off the smoothness of her rounded arms,but she wore no other jewelry. She had not had the time or thefacilities to have her hair built high as a grenadier's cap, but shelooked none the less commanding. She was, indeed, a radiant creature.Peyton, having never before seen her at her present advantage, openedwide his eyes and stared at her with a wonder whose openness wasexcused only by the suddenness of the dazzling apparition.

  She cast on him a momentary look of perfect indifference, as she mighton any one that stood in her way; then walked lightly to the spinet,giving him a barely noticeable wide berth in passing, as if he weresomething with which it was probably desirable not to come in contact.Her slight deviation from a direct line of progress, though madeinoffensively, struck him like a blow, yet did not interrupt, for morethan an instant, his admiration. He stood dumbly looking after her, ather smooth and graceful movement, which had no sound but the rustlingof skirts, her footfalls being noiseless in the satin slippers shewore.

  Peyton was not now as impatient as he had been to depart. In fact, helost, in some measure, his sense of being in the act of departure.What he felt was an inclination to look longer on this so unexpectedvision. She sat down at the spinet with her back towards him, andsomehow conveyed in her attitude that she thought him no longer in theroom. He felt a necessity for establishing the fact of his presence.

  "Pardon me for addressing you," he said, with a diffidence new to him,taking up the first pretext that came to mind, "but I fear your auntrequires looking to. She behaves strangely."

  "Oh," said Elizabeth, lightly, too wise to give him the importance ofpretending not to hear him, "she is subject to queer spells at times.I thought you had gone."

  She began to play the spinet, very quietly and unobtrusively, with anabsence of resentment, and with a seemingly unconscious indifference,that gave him a paralyzing sense of nothingness.

  Unpleasant as this feeling made his position, he felt the situationbecome one from which it would be extremely awkward to flee. For thefirst time since certain boyhood fits of bashfulness, he nowrealized the aptness of that oft-read expression, "rooted to thespot." That he should be thrown into this trance-like embarrassment,this powerlessness of motion, this feeling of a schoolboy firstintroduced to society, of a player caught by stage fright, wasintolerable.

  When she had touched the keys gently a few times, he shook offsomething of the spell that bound him, and moved to a spot whence hecould get a view of her face in profile. It had not an infinitesimaltrace of the storm that had driven him from the room a short timebefore. It was entirely serene. There was on it no anger, no grief, noreproach of self or of another, no scorn. There was pride, but onlythe pride it normally wore; reserve, but only the reserve habitual toa high-born girl in the presence of any but her familiars. It was hardto believe her the woman who had been stirred to such tremendous wratha few minutes ago, by the disclosure that she had been deceived, herlove tricked and misplaced. Rather, it was hard to believe that thescene of wrath had ever occurred, that this woman had ever been sostirred by such cause, that she had ever loved him, that he had everdared pretend love to her. The deception and the confession, with allthey had elicited from her, seemed parts of a dream, of some fancy hehad had, some romance he had read.

  As for Elizabeth, she knew not, thought not, whether, in bearing himhot resentment, she still loved him. She knew only that she cravedrevenge, and that the first step towards her desired end was to assumethat indifference which so puzzled, interested, and confounded him. Aweak or a stupid woman would have shown a sense of injury, withflashes of anger. An ordinarily clever woman would have affecteddisdain, would have sniffed and looked haughty, would have overdoneher pretended contempt. It is true, Elizabeth had moved slightly outof her way to pass further from him, but she had done this withapparent thoughtlessness, as if the act were dictated by some innersense of his belonging to an inferior race; not with a visibleintention of showing repulsion. It is true she had assumed ignoranceof his presence, but she had given him to attribute this to a beliefthat he had left the room. When his voice declared his whereabouts,she treated him just as she would have treated any other indifferentperson who was _not quite_ her equal.

  Peyton felt more and more uncomfortable. Would she continue playingthe spinet forever, so perfectly at ease, so content not to look athim again, so assuming it for granted that, the operation ofleave-taking being considered over between hostess and guest, theguest might properly be gone any moment without further attention oneither side?

  He began to fear that, if he did not soon speak, his voice would bebeyond recovery. So, with a desperate resolve to recover hisself-possession at a single _coup_, he blurted out, bunglingly:

  "'Tis the first time I have seen you in that gown, madam."

  Elizabeth, not ceasing to let her fingers ramble with soft touch overthe keyboard, replied, carelessly:

  "I have not worn it in some time."

  Having found that he retained the power of speech, he proceeded toutter frankly his latest thought, concealing the slight bitterness ofit with a pretence of playful, make-believe reproach:

  "'Tis not flattering to me, that you never wore it while I was yourguest, yet put it on the moment you thought I had departed."

  She answered with good-humored lightness, "Why, sir, do you complainof not being flattered? I thought such complaints were made only bywomen, and only to their own hearts."

  "If by flattery," said he, "you mean merited compliment, there arewomen who can never have occasion to complain of not receiving it."

  "Indeed? When was that discovery made?"

  "A minute ago, madam."

  "Oh!" and she smiled with just such graciousness as a woman might showin accepting a compliment from a comparative stranger. "Thank you!"

  "When I think of it," said he, "it seems strange that you--ah--nevertook pains to--eh--to appear at your best--nay, I should say, as yourreal self!--before me."

  "Oh, you allude to my wearing this gown? Why, you must pardon my nothaving received you ceremoniously. _Your_ visit began unexpectedly."

  "Then somebody else is about to begin a visit that _is_ expected?"

  "Didn't you know? I thought all the house was aware Major Colden wasto return in a week. He may be here to-night, though perhaps not tillto-morrow."

  "Confound that man!" This to himself, and then, to her: "I was of theimpression you did not love him."

  "Why, what gave you that impression?"

  "No matter. It seems I was wrong."

  "Oh, I don't say that,--or that you're right, either."

  "However," quoth he, with an inward sigh of resignation, "it is for_him_ that you are dressed as you never were for me!"

  She did not choose to ask what reason had existed for considering himin selecting her attire. It was better not to notice his presumption,and she became more absorbed in her music.

  Peyton strode up and down a few moments, then sat by the table, andrested his cheek on his hand, wearing a somewhat injured look.

  "Major Colden, eh?" he mused. "To think I should come upon him again!"He essayed to renew conversation. "I trust, Miss Philipse, when I amgone--" But Elizabeth was now oblivious of surroundings; the notesfrom the spinet became louder, and she began to hum the air in a low,agreeable voice. Peyton looked hopeless. Presently he stood up aga
in,watching her.

  Elizabeth brought the piece to a lively finish, rose capriciously,took up the flowers she had laid on the spinet earlier in the evening,put them in her corsage, and made to readjust the bracelet on herright arm. In this attempt, she accidentally dropped the bracelet tothe floor. Peyton ran to pick it up. But she quickly recovered itbefore he could reach it, put it on, walked to the table and sat downby it, removed the flowers from her bosom to the table, took up thevolume of "The School for Scandal," and turned the leaves over as ifin quest of a certain page.

  While she was looking at the book, Peyton took up the flowers.Elizabeth, as if thinking they were still where she had laid them, putout her hand to repossess them, keeping her eyes the while on thebook. For a moment, her hand ranged the table in search, then sheabandoned the attempt to regain them.

  Peyton held them out to her.

  "No, I thank you," she said, laying down the book, and went back tothe spinet.

  "Ah, you give them to me!" cried Peyton, with sudden pleasure.

  "Not at all! I merely do not wish to have them now."

  "Oh," said he, thinking to make account by finding offence where nonewas really expressed, "has my touch contaminated them for you?"

  "How can you talk so absurdly?" And she resumed her seat at thespinet, and her playing.

  Peyton stood holding the flowers, looking at her, and presentlyheaved a deep sigh. This not moving her, he suddenly had an access ofpride, brought himself together, and saying, with quick resolution, "Ibid you good-night and good-by, madam," went rapidly towards the doorof the east hall. But his resolution weakened when his hand touchedthe knob, and, to make pretext for further sight of her, he turned andwent to go out the other door.

  Elizabeth had had a moment of alarm at his first sign of departure,but had not betrayed the feeling. Now when, from her seat at thespinet, she saw him actually crossing the threshold near her, shecalled out, gently, "A moment, captain."

  The pleased look on his face, as he turned towards her inquiringly,betrayed his gratification at being called back.

  "You are taking my flowers away," she said, in explanation.

  He plainly showed his disappointment. "Your pardon. My thoughtlessness.But you said you didn't wish to keep them." He laid them on the spinet.

  "I do not,--yet a woman must allow very few hands to carry off flowersof her gathering."

  She rose and took up the flowers and walked towards the fireplace.

  "Then you at least take them back from my hands," said Peyton.

  "Why, yes,--for this," and she tossed them into the fire.

  He looked at them as they withered in the blaze, then said, "Have youany objection to my carrying away the ashes, Miss Philipse?"

  She answered, considerately, "'Twill take you more time than you canlose, to gather them up."

  "Oh, I am in no haste."

  "Oh, then, I ask your pardon. A moment since, you were about to go."

  "But now I prefer to stay."

  "Indeed? May I ask the reason--but no matter."

  But he felt that a reason ought to be forthcoming. "Why, you know,because--" And here he thought of one. "I wish to stay to meet MajorColden, of whom you say I am afraid. I shall prove to you at least Iam no coward. After what you have said to me this night, I must inhonor wait to face him."

  "But it is late now. I don't think he will come till to-morrow."

  "Then I can wait till to-morrow."

  "But your duty calls you back to your own camp, now that your woundhas healed."

  "I think my wound has undergone a slight relapse. You shall see, atleast, I am not afraid of your champion."

  "If that is your only reason,--your desire to quarrel with MajorColden,--I cannot invite you to remain."

  "Well, then, to tell the truth, there _is_ another reason. When Isaid, a while since, I had never seen you in that gown, I used toomany words. I should have said I had never really seen you at all."

  "Where were your eyes?" she asked, absently, seeming to take his wordsliterally and to perceive no compliment.

  "I was in a kind of waking sleep."

  "It has been a time and place of hallucinations, I think. I, too, sir,have been, since I came here a week ago, under the strangest spell. Akind of light madness or witchery was over me, and made me actridiculously, against my very will. A week ago, when you weredisabled, I intended to give you up to the British,--as I should donow, if it would not be so troublesome--"

  "'Twould be troublesome to _me_, I assure you," he said, interrupting.

  "But at the last moment," she went on, "I did precisely the reverse ofwhat I wished. Awhile ago, in this room, I seemed to be in thepossession of some evil spirit, which made me say preposterous things.I can only remember some wild raving I indulged in, and someundeserved rudeness I displayed towards you. But, will you believe,the instant you left me, I recovered my right mind. I am like onereturned from bedlam, cured, and you will pardon any incivility I mayhave done you in my peculiar state, I'm sure, since you speak ofhaving been curiously afflicted yourself."

  "Then you mean," he faltered, "you did not really love me?"

  "Why, certainly I did not! How could you think I did? Somethingpossessed my will. But, thank heaven, I am myself again. Why, sir, howcould I? You know very little of me, sir, to think--Oh!" She coveredher face with her hands. "What things must I have said and done, in myclouded state, to make you think that! You,--an enemy, a rebel, aperson whose only possible interest to me arises from his enmity!"

  Dazzled as he was by her newly discovered beauty, the imposition onhim was complete. He saw this covetable being now indifferent to him,out of his power to possess, likely soon to pass into the possessionof another.

  "Pray try to forget awhile that enmity," he supplicated.

  "I shall try, and then you can have no interest for me at all."

  "Then don't try, I beg. I'd rather have an interest for you as anenemy than not at all."

  "Why, really, sir--" She seemed half puzzled, half amused.

  "Lord," quoth he, "how I have been deluded! I thought my love-makingthat night, feigned though it was, had wakened a response."

  "Love-making, do you say? Will you believe me, sir, I don't rememberwhat passed here that night, save the unaccountable ending,--my makingyou my guest instead of their prisoner."

  "I wish you were pretending all this!"

  "Why, if 'twould make you happier that I were, I wish so, too."

  "How can you speak so lightly of such matters?"

  "What matters?"

  "Love, of course."

  "Why, do men alone, because they laugh at women for taking loveseriously, have the right to take it lightly? And of what love am Ispeaking lightly,--the love you say you feigned for me, or the loveyou say you thought you had awakened in me?"

  "The love I vow I do _not_ feign for you! The love I wish I _could_awaken in you!"

  "Why, captain, what a change has come over you!"

  "Yes. I have risen from my sleep. If you, in waking from yours, putoff love, I, in waking from mine, took on love!"

  She smiled, as with amusement. "A somewhat speedy taking on, I shouldsay."

  "Love's born of a glance, _I_ say!"

  "Haven't I heard that before?" reflectively.

  "Aye, for I said it here when I did not mean it, and now I say itagain when I do!"

  "And of what particular glance am I to suppose--"

  "Of the first glance I cast on you when you entered this room in thatgown. Yes, born of a glance--"

  "Born of a gown, in that case, don't you mean?" derisively.

  "Of a gown, or a glance, or a what you wish."

  "I don't wish it should be born at all."

  "You don't wish I should love you?"

  "I don't wish you should love me or shouldn't love me. I don't wishyou--anything. Why should I wish anything of one who is nothing tome?"

  "Nothing to you! I would you were to me what I am to you!"

  "What is th
at, pray?"

  "An adorer!"

  "You are a--very amusing gentleman."

  "You refuse me a glimpse of hope?"

  "You would like to have it as a trophy, I suppose. You men treasurethe memories of your little conquests over foolish women, as an Indiantreasures the scalps he takes."

  "Lord! which sex, I wonder, has the busier scalping-knife?"

  "I can't speak for all my sex. Some of us seek no scalps--"

  "You don't have to. I make you a present of mine. I fling it at yourfeet."

  "We seek no scalps, I say,--because we don't value them a finger-snap."And she gave a specimen of the kind of finger-snap she did not valuethem at.

  "In heaven's name," he said, "say what you do value, that I may striveto become like it! What do you value, I implore you, tell me?"

  "Oh,--my studies, for one thing,--my French and my music,--"

  "Could I but translate myself into French, or set myself to an air!"

  "Nay, I don't care for _comic_ songs!"

  "I see you like flowers. If I might die, and be buried in your garden,and grow up in the shape of a rose-bush--"

  "Or a cabbage!"

  "I fear you don't like that flower."

  "Better come up in the form of your own Virginia tobacco."

  "And be smoked by old Mr. Valentine? No, you don't like tobacco. Ah,Miss Philipse, this levity is far from the mood of my heart!"

  "Why do you indulge in it, then?"

  "I? Is it I who indulge in levity?"

  "Assuredly, _I_ do not!" Oh, woman's privilege of saying unabashedlythe thing which is not!

  "No," said he, "for there's no levity in the coldness with whichbeauty views the wounds it makes."

  "I'm sure one is not compelled to offer oneself to its wounds."

  "No,--nor the moth to seek the flame."

  "La, now you are a moth,--a moment ago, a rose-bush,--"

  "And you are ten million roses, grown in the garden of heaven, andfashioned into one body there, by some celestial Praxiteles!"

  "Dear me, am I all that?"

  "Ay," he said, sadly, "and no more truly conscious of what it means tobe all that, than any rose in any garden is conscious of what itsbeauty means!"

  "Perhaps," she said, softly, feeling for a moment almost tendernessenough to abandon her purpose, "more conscious than you think!"

  "Ah! Then you are not like common beauties,--as poor and dull withinas they are rich and radiant without? You but pretend insensibility,to hide real feeling."

  "I did not say so," she answered, lightly, bracing herself again toher resolution.

  "But it is so, is it not?" he went on. "Your heart and mind are asroseate and delicate as your face? You can understand my praises andmy feelings? You can value such love as mine aright, and know 'tisworthy some repayment?"

  But she was not again to be duped by low-spoken, fervid words, or bywistful, glowing eyes. She must be sure of him.

  "I know,--I recall now," she said, with little apparent interest; "youspoke of love a week ago, with no less eloquence and ardor."

  "More eloquence and ardor, I dare say, for then I did not feel love.Then my tongue was not tied by sense of a passion it could not hope toexpress one hundredth part of! And, even if my tongue had gift to tellmy heart, I should not dare trust myself under the sway of myfeelings. But I _do_ love you now,--I do,--I do!"

  "If now, why not before?"

  "Haven't I said I've been blind to you until to-night? At first Iregarded you as only an enemy to be turned to my use in my peril.Having been fortunate in that, I gave myself to other thoughts. But,thinking my false love had drawn true love from you, I saw I could notin honor leave you under a false belief. But now the falsehood hasbecome truth. A week ago, I avowed a pretended passion, to gain mylife! Now, I declare a real one, to gain your love!"

  "What, you expect to take my love by storm, in reality, as you did, inappearance, a week ago?" She had risen from the music seat, and nowstood with her back against the spinet, her hands behind her, her headturned slightly upward, facing him.

  "I don't expect," said he. "I only hope."

  "And what gives you reason to hope?"

  "My own love for you. Love elicits love, they say."

  "They say wrong, then. If that were true, there would be no unrequitedlovers."

  "Ay, but such love as mine,--how can it so fill me to overflowing, andnot infect you?"

  "Love is not an infectious disease. If it were, I should have nofear,--knowing myself love-proof."

  "I can't believe that,--for a woman with no spark in herself could notlight so fierce a flame in me, by the mere meeting of our eyes."

  "If it should create in me such a disturbance as you seem to undergo,I shouldn't wish it to increase. But, I assure you, it isn't in me."

  "Pray think it is. Only imagine it is there, and soon it will be."

  She felt that the time was at hand to strike the blow.

  "If I could be perfectly sure you spoke in earnest," she said, seemingto search his countenance for testimony.

  "In earnest!" he echoed. "Great heavens, what evidence do you want? Ifthere is an aspect of love I do not have, tell me, and I shall put iton."

  "Yes, you are experienced in putting on the _aspects_ of love."

  "Oh, you well know I have no reason now for declaring a love I don'tfeel. If you could be sure I spoke in earnest, you said,--what then?Tell me, and I shall find a way to convince you I _am_ in earnest."

  "Convince me first."

  "'Convince me,' you say. And I say, 'Be convinced.' By the Lord, neverwas so great a sceptic! Is not your sense of your own charmssufficient to convince you of their effect?"

  "Mere words!"

  "I'll prove my love by acts, then!"

  "By what acts?"

  "By fighting for you or suffering for you, dying for you or living foryou, as you may command."

  "You can prove it thus. Say, 'Long live the King!'"

  He gazed at her a moment. "No," he said.

  "Say, 'Long live the King!'" She went to the door, and paused on thethreshold, looking at him, as if to give him a last opportunity.

  "Long live the King--" he said.

  She came back from the door.

  "Of France!" he added.

  "No," she cried, and dictated, "'Long live the King of GreatBritain!'"

  "Long live the King of Great Britain,--but not of America."

  "No! 'Long live George the Third, King of Great Britain and theAmerican colonies!'"

  "Long live George the Third, King of Great Britain and--Ireland."

  "'And of the American colonies.' Say it! Say it all!"

  "Long live Elizabeth Philipse, queen of beauty in the United States ofAmerica!" he answered.

  "You don't love me," said she, and set her mind to finding some othermeans by which he might evince what she knew he would neverdemonstrate in the way she had demanded. And she resolved hishumiliation should be all the greater for the delay. "You don't loveme."

  "I do. I swear, on my knees."

  "Then _get_ on your knees!"

  "I do!" He dropped on one knee.

  "Both knees!"

  "Both." He suited action to word.

  "Bow lower."

  "I touch the floor." He did so, with his forehead. "Are youconvinced?"

  "Yes." And she moved thoughtfully towards the door of the east hall.

  "Ah! Convinced that I love you madly?" In obedience to a gesture, heremained on his knees.

  "Perfectly convinced."

  "Then, the reward of which you hinted?"

  "Reward?"

  "You said, if you could be sure I spoke in earnest. Now you admit youare sure. What then?"

  She let her eyes rest on him a moment, without speaking, as he lookedardently and expectantly up at her from his kneeling attitude, whileshe took in breath, and then she flung her answer at him.

  "What then? This! That you are now more contemptible and ridiculousand utterly non-existent, to me
, than you have formerly been! That,whatever I may have done which seemed in your behalf, was partly fromthe strange insanity of which I have spoken, and partly from the mostmeaningless caprice! That, if you remain here till to-morrow, you maysee me in the arms of the man I really love, and that he may not be ascareless of the fate of a vagabond rebel as I am. And now, CaptainCrayton, or Dayton, or Peyton, or whatever you please, of somebody orother's light horse, go or stay, as you choose; you're as welcome asany other casual passer-by, for all the comical figure your impudencehas made you cut! Learn modesty, sir, and you may fare better in yournext love-making, if you do not aim too high! And that piece of adviceis the reward I hinted at! Good night!"

  And she whirled from the room, slamming behind her the mahogany door,at which Peyton stared for some seconds, in blank amazement, toooverwhelmed to speak or move or breathe or think.

  But gradually he came to life, slowly rose, stood for a momentthoughtful, fashioned his brows into a frown, drew his lips back hard,and muttered through his closed teeth:

  "I'll stay and fight that man, at least!"

  And he sat down by the table, to wait.