The Continental Dragoon

by Robert Neilson Stephens

  CHAPTER XII.

  THE CHALLENGE.

  A very few moments had elapsed, and Peyton still sat by the table, ina dogged study, when the door from the south hall was opened slightly,and if he had looked he might have seen a pair of eyes peeping throughthe aperture. But he did not look, either then or when, some secondslater, the door opened wide and Miss Sally bobbed gracefully in.

  It has been related how, after her brilliant but exhausting conduct ofthe important scene assigned her, she sought repose in her room.Looking out of her window presently, she saw something, of which shethought it advisable to inform Elizabeth. Therefore she camedown-stairs. Did she listen at the door to the last part of thatnotable conversation? Ungallant thought, aroint thee! 'Tis well knownwomen have little curiosity, and what little they have they would not,being of Miss Sally's station in life, descend to gratify byeavesdropping. Let it be assumed, therefore, that the much vauntedinformant, feminine intuition, told Miss Sally of the end of theinterview between her niece and the captain, both as to the time ofthat end and as to its nature.

  She entered, tremulous with a vast idea that had blazed suddenly onher mind. Now that Elizabeth was quite through with Peyton, now thatPeyton must be low in his self-esteem for Elizabeth's humiliation ofhim, and therefore likely to be grateful for consolatory attentions,Miss Sally might resume her own hopes. But there was no time to belost.

  "Your pardon, captain," she began, sweetly, with her most flatteringsmile. "I am looking for Miss Elizabeth."

  "She was here awhile ago," replied Peyton, glumly, not bringing hiseyes within range of the smile. "She went that way. I trust you'verecovered from your attack."

  "My attack?" inquiringly, with surprise.

  "The queer spell, I think Miss Philipse called it. She said you weresubject to them."

  "Well, how does she dare--" She checked her tongue, lest she mightbetray the device for his detention. Something in his absent, carelessway of associating her with a queer spell irritated her a little forthe moment, and impelled her to retaliation. "I suppose that was notthe only thing she said to you?" she added, ingenuously.

  "No,--she said other things." He rose and went to the fireplace,leaned against the mantel, and gazed pensively at the red embers.

  "They don't seem to have left you very cheerful," ventured MissSally.

  "Not so very damned cheerful!--I beg your pardon."

  Miss Sally's moment of resentment had passed. Now was the time tostrike for herself. She thought she had hit on a clever plan ofgetting around to the matter.

  "Captain," said she, "you're a man of the world. I know it'spresumptuous of me to ask it, but--if you would give me a word ofadvice--"

  Peyton did not take his look from the fire, or his thoughts from theirdismal absorption. He answered, half-unconsciously:

  "Oh, certainly! Anything at all."

  "You are aware, of course," she went on, with smirking, rosyconfusion, "that Mr. Valentine is a widower."

  "Indeed? Oh, yes, yes, I know."

  "Yes, a widower twice over."

  "How sad! He must feel twice the usual amount of grief."

  "Why,--I don't know exactly about that."

  "The poor man has my sympathy. Doubtless he is inconsolable." Peytonscarce knew what he was saying, or whom it was about.

  "Why, no," said Miss Sally, averting her eyes, with a smiling shyness,"not altogether inconsolable. That's just it."

  "Oh, is it?" said Peyton, obliviously.

  "You may have noticed that he spends a good deal of time here atpresent," she went on.

  "A good deal of time," he repeated. "There's doubtless some strongattraction."

  "Yes. Perhaps I oughtn't to say it, but there _is_ a strongattraction. In fact, he has proposed marriage to me, and now, as a manof the world to a woman of little experience, would you advise me toaccept him?"

  And she looked at the disconsolate officer so sweetly, it seemedimpossible he should do aught but say it would be throwing herselfaway to bestow on an old man charms of which younger and warmer eyeswere sensible. But he answered only:

  "Certainly! An excellent match!"

  For a time Miss Sally was speechless, yet open-mouthed. And then, forthe length of one brief but fiery tirade, she showed herself to be herniece's aunt:

  "Sir! The idea! I wouldn't have that old smoke-chimney if he were thelast man on earth! I'd have given him his conge long ago, if it hadn'tbeen that he might propose to my friend, the widow Babcock! I've onlykept him on the string to prevent her getting him. When I want youradvice, Captain Peyton, I'll ask for it! Excuse me, I must findElizabeth. I've news for her."

  "News?" he echoed, stupidly.

  "Yes. From my chamber window awhile ago I saw some one riding this wayon the post-road,--Major Colden!"

  And she swept out by the same door that had closed, a few minutesbefore, on Elizabeth.

  "Major Colden!" Peyton's teeth tightened, his eyes shot fire, his handflew to his sword-hilt, as he spoke the name.

  He went to the window, the same window at which Elizabeth had lookedout a week ago, and peered through the panes at the night.

  "Why, the ground is white," he said. "It has begun to snow."

  But, through the large flakes that fell thick and swiftly among thetrees, he did not yet see any humankind approaching. His view of thebranch road was, at some places, obstructed by tall shrubbery thatrose high above the palings and the hedge.

  Yet through those flakes, assaulted by them in eyes and nostrils,invaded by them in ears and neck, humankind was riding. It was,indeed, Colden that Miss Sally had seen through a fortuitous opening,which gave, between the trees, a view of the most eminent point of thepost-road southward. He was to conduct Elizabeth home the next day,but had availed himself of his opportunity to ride out to themanor-house that night, so as to have the few more hours in hersociety. He had this time taken an escort of two privates of his ownregiment, but these men were not as well mounted as he, and, in hisimpatience, having seen the best their horses could do, and havingpassed King's Bridge, he had ridden ahead of them, leaving them tofollow to the manor-house in their own speediest time. Thus it wasthat now he bore alone down from the post-road, his horse's feetmaking on the new-fallen snow no other sound than a soft crunching,scarce louder than its heavy breathing or its mouth-play on the bit,or the creak and clank of saddle, bridle, stirrups, pistols, andscabbard. His eyes dwelt eagerly on the manor-house, where awaited himlight and warmth and wine, refuge from the pelting flakes, and, aboveall else, the joy-giving presence of Elizabeth. His breast expanded,he sighed already with relief; he approached the gate as a releasedsoul, with admission ticket duly purchased by a deathbed repentance,might approach the gate of heaven.

  But Peyton, looking out on the white world, saw no one. He did notchange his attitude when the door reopened and Elizabeth and her auntcame into the parlor, arm in arm.

  "You're sure 'twas he, aunt Sally?" Elizabeth had been saying.

  "Positive. He should be here now," Miss Sally had replied.

  Elizabeth cast a look of secret elation on the unheeding rebelcaptain, whose forehead was still against the window-pane. She saw apossible means of his still further degradation.

  Suddenly he took a quick step back from the window, impulsivelyrenewed his grasp of his sword-hilt, and showed a face of resoluteantagonism.

  Elizabeth knew from this that he had seen Colden. She gave a smile ofpleasant anticipation.

  But Miss Sally had relapsed into her usual timid self. She heldtightly to Elizabeth's arm.

  "Oh, dear!" she whispered. "Won't something happen when those twomeet?"

  "I hope so!" said Elizabeth, placidly.

  "Why?" demanded Miss Sally, beginning to weaken at the knees.

  "If Colden sends him to the ground, in our presence, that will crownthe fellow's humiliation."

  Five brisk knocks, in quick succession, were heard from the outsidedoor of the east hall.

  Peyton walked across the parlor, turne
d, and stood facing the easthall door, the greater part of the room's length being between him andit. His hand remained on his sword. He paid no heed to Elizabeth, shepaid none to him.

  "His knock!" she said, and called out through the east hall door:"'Tis Major Colden, Sam. Show him here at once." She then stepped backfrom the door, to a place whence she could see both it and Peyton. Heraunt clung to her arm all the while, and now whispered, "Oh,Elizabeth, I fear there will be trouble!"

  "If there is, it won't fall on your silly head," whispered Elizabeth,in reply.

  From the hall came the sound of the drawing of bolts. Peyton did nottake his eyes from the door.

  A noise of footfalls, accompanied by clank of spurs and weapons, andin came Colden, his hat in his left hand, snow on his hat andshoulders, his cloak open, his sword and pistols visible, his righthand ungloved to clasp Elizabeth's.

  She received him with such a cordial smile as he had never before hadfrom her.

  "Elizabeth!" he cried,--beheld only her, hastened to her, took herproffered hand, bent his head and kissed the fingers, raised his eyeswith a grateful, joyous smile,--and saw Peyton standing motionless atthe other side of the room. The smile vanished; a look of amazementand hatred came.

  "I wish you a very good evening, _Major_ Colden!"

  Peyton said this in a voice as hard and ironical as might have comefrom a brass statue.

  For the next few seconds the two men stood gazing at each other, thewomen gazing at the men. At last the Tory major found speech:

  "Elizabeth,--what does it mean? Why is this man here,--again?"

  "'Tis rather a long story, Jack, and you shall hear it all in time,"said Elizabeth, determined he should never hear the true story.

  Before she could continue, Colden suffered a start of alarm to possesshim, and asked, quickly:

  "Are any of his troops here?"

  "No; he is quite alone," she answered.

  Colden at once took on height, arrogance, and formidableness.

  "Then why have not your servants made him a prisoner?" he asked.

  "Why," said she, "you being mentioned to-night, in his presence, hemade some kind of boast of not fearing you, and I, divining how soonyou would be here, thought fit his freedom with your name should bestbe paid for at _your_ hands, major."

  "Ay, major," put in Peyton, "and I have stayed to receive payment!"

  Colden thought for a short while. Then he said, "A moment, Elizabeth.Your pardon, Miss Williams," and drew Elizabeth aside, and spoke toher in a low tone: "We have only to temporize with him. Two of my menhave attended me from my quarters. I had a better horse, and rodeahead, in my eagerness to see you. My two fellows will be here soon,and the business will be done."

  But such doing of the business did not suit Elizabeth's purpose. "Iwish to humiliate the man," she answered Colden, inaudibly to theothers; "to take down his upstart pride! 'Twould be no shame to him,to be made prisoner by numbers."

  "What, then?" asked Colden, dubiously.

  "Bring down the coxcomb, before us women, in an even match!"

  To prevent objections, she then abruptly went from Colden, and resumedher place at her aunt's side.

  Colden stood frowning, not half pleased at her hint. It occurred tohim, as it did not to her, that the mere allegiance and favoringwishes of herself were not sufficient possessions to ensure victory insuch a match as she meant. Elizabeth, accustomed to success, did notconceive it possible that the chosen agent of her own designs couldfail. But the chosen agent had, in this case, wider powers ofconception.

  All this time, Captain Peyton had stood as motionless as a figure in apainting. He now interrupted Colden's meditations with the gentlereminder:

  "I am waiting for my payment, Major Colden."

  Colden was not a man of much originality. So, in his instinctiveendeavor to gain time, he bungled out the conventional reply, "Youwish to seek a quarrel with me, sir?"

  "Seek a quarrel?" retorted Peyton. "Is not the quarrel here? Has notMiss Philipse spoken of an offence to your name, for which I ought toreceive payment from you? Gad, she'd not have to speak twice to make_me_ draw!"

  Colden continued to be as conventional as a virtuous hero of a novel."I do not fight in the presence of ladies, sir," said he.

  "Nor I," said Peyton. "Choose your own place, in the garden yonder.With snow on the ground, there's light enough."

  And Harry went quickly, almost to the door, near which he stopped togive Colden precedence.

  "Nay," put in Elizabeth, "we ladies can bear the sight of a sword-cutor two. Wait for us," and she would have gone to send for wraps, butthat Colden raised his hand in token of refusal, saying:

  "Nay, Elizabeth. I will not consent."

  "Come, sir," said Peyton. "'Tis no use to oppose a lady's whim. But ifyou make haste, we may have it over before they can arrive on theground."

  In handling his sword-hilt, Peyton had pulled the weapon a few inchesout of the scabbard, and now, though he did not intend to draw whilein the house, he unconsciously brought out the full length of whatremained of the blade. For the time he had forgotten the sword wasbroken, and now he was reminded of it with some inward irritation.

  Meanwhile Colden was answering:

  "There's no regularity in such a meeting. Where are the seconds?"

  "I'll be your second, major," cried Elizabeth. "Aunt Sally, secondCaptain Peyton."

  "Ridiculous!" said the major.

  "Anything to bring you out," said Peyton, as desirous of avenginghimself on Elizabeth, through her affianced, as she was to completeher own revenge through the same instrument. "I'll fight you with halfa sword. I'd forgotten 'tis all I've left."

  "I would not take an advantage," said the New Yorker.

  "Then break your own sword, and make us equal," said the Virginian.

  "I value my weapon too much for that."

  Peyton smiled ironically. But he tried again.

  "Then I shall be less scrupulous," said he. "I _will_ take anadvantage. The greater honor to you, if you defeat me. You take thebroken sword, and lend me yours."

  He held out his hilt for exchange.

  Colden pretended to laugh, saying:

  "Am I a fool to put it in your power to murder me?"

  "_I'll_ tell you what, gentlemen," put in Elizabeth. "Use the swordsabove the chimney-place, yonder. They are equal."

  "Yes!" cried Peyton.

  But Colden said:

  "I will not so degrade myself as to cross swords, except on thebattle-field, with one who is a rebel, a deserter, and no gentleman."

  Peyton turned to Elizabeth with a smile.

  "Then you see, madam," said he, "'tis no fault of mine if my affrontsgo unpunished, since this gentleman must keep his courage for thebattle-field! Egad," he added, sacrificing truth for the sake of thetaunt, "you Tories need all the courage there you can save up in along time! I take my leave of this house!"

  "'I TAKE MY LEAVE OF THIS HOUSE!'"]

  He thrust his sword back into the scabbard, bowed rapidly and low,with a flourish of his hat, and went out by the same door Elizabethhad used in her own moment of triumph. He unbolted the outside doorhimself, before black Sam could come from the settle to serve him.Snowflakes rushed in at the open door. He plunged into them, swingingthe door close after him. Out through the little portico he went, downthe walk outside the very parlor window through which he had lookedout awhile ago, but through which he did not now look in as hepassed; through the gate, and up the branch road to the highway. Hewas possessed by a confusion of thoughts and feelings,--temporary andsuperficial elation at having put Elizabeth's preferred lover in sobad a light, wild ideas of some future crossing of her path, swiftdreams of a future conquest of her in spite of all, a fierce desirefor such action as would lead to that end. He was eager to rejoin thearmy now, to participate in the fighting that would bring about thehumbling of her cause and make it the more in his power to master her.He heeded little the snow that impeded his steps as his boots sankinto
it, and which, in falling, blinded his eyes, tickled his face,and clung to his hair. The tumult of flakes was akin to that of hisfeelings, and he was in mood for encountering such opposition as thestorm made to his progress.

  Arriving at the post-road, he turned and went northward. At his leftlay the great lawn fronting the manor-house, and separated from theroad by hedge and palings. He could see, across the snowy expanse,between the dark trunks and whitened branches of the trees, the longfront of the manor-house, its roof and its porticoes already coveredwith snow, the light glowing in the one exposed window of the eastparlor. As he quieted down within, he felt pleasantly towards thehouse, to which his week's half-solitary residence in it, with thecomfort he had enjoyed there and the books he had read, had given himan attachment. He cast on it a last affectionate look, then breastedthe weather onward, wondering what things the future might have instore for him.

  He had little fear of not reaching the American lines in safety. Itwas unlikely that any of the enemy's marauders would be out on such anight, and more unlikely that any regular military movement would bemaking on the neutral ground. He expected to meet no one on the road,but he would keep a sharp lookout in all directions as he went, and,in case of any human apparition, would take to the fields or thewoods. But all the world, thought he, would stay within doors thiswhite night.

  Sliding back a part of every step he took in the snow, he passed theboundary of the Philipse lawn, and that of such part of the grounds asincluded, with other appurtenances, the garden north of the house. Hehad come, at last, to a place where the fence at his left ended andthe forest began. He had, a moment before, cast a long look backwardto assure himself the road was empty behind him. He now trudged on,his eyes fixed ahead.

  From behind a low pine-tree, at the end of the fence, two dark figuresglided up to the captain's rear, their steps noiseless in the snow.One of them caught both his forearms at the same instant, and pulledthem back together, as with grips of iron. A second pair of handsplaced a noose about his wrists, and quickly tightened it. Ere hecould turn, his first assailant released the bound arms to the second,drew a pistol, and thrust the muzzle close to Peyton's cheek,whereupon the second man said:

  "Your pardon, captain. Come quietly, or you're a dead man!"