The Tory Maid

  CHAPTER IV

  THE RED COCKADE

  The stirring notes of the bugle made us spring up in the morning, tofind, when we were again downstairs, that every one was talking of thedisappearance of Charles Gordon of the Braes.

  Master Richard marvelled much at the disappearance of the Tory, and,though I knew it was of the Tory maid he was thinking, I said not aword, but went on with my duties; and manifold they were for many daysto come. The drilling of the raw recruits, who, though they were fullof fire and _elan_, were not used to the strict obedience of orders,was at first very difficult. But soon there came the spirit and thepride that were to make them the best drilled troops, the dandies andmacaronies of the army. And so, with the drilling of recruits andassisting Captain Ramsay in the formation of the regiment, a weekpassed by before a day came when Dick and I found a few spare hours onour hands. And having certain plans and purposes in view, and notwishing them to be known to Dick, I sat and watched for an opportunityto slip away.

  Master Richard, it was evident, had also some plans on foot, for aftermoving from the chair to the top of a box and then back again, hestretched his arms above his head, and, yawning, said: "I believe Iwill take a little canter down the south road; come along?"

  "No," I replied; "I am going to ride a short distance down the eastroad."

  "All right," said he, and springing from his chair, he went to orderhis horse. I soon followed, and, having seen Dick well on his way,rode for a short distance on the east road, then turned, rode back,and entered the road which runs along the bank of the Elk, by which wehad entered the town on our journey from Kent. As I rode, I hummed ajovial hunting-song and touched Toby with the spur, for I was quitejubilant at having got rid of Dick and so well on the road to myadventure.

  My time was short and it was good twelve miles to the Braes, butToby's sire was a son of old Ranter, and I knew he could do it in anhour and a half. So Toby felt the spur, and I barely noticed the milesas we flew along, until we came to the road that leads south to theBraes. Down this road we turned, and as we were so near the end of ourjourney I began to think of the reasons and excuses I should give formy visit. Reason! Pshaw! What better reason does a Marylander wantthan a pair of blue eyes? And if Mistress Jean should so much asdemand it by the merest glance of those eyes, I would tell her so.Aye, but she is a Tory and wears the red cockade. True, but the fairerthe enemy the more difficult the prize, the greater the glory andeffort to win.

  And so, having justified my invasion of the stronghold of the Tory, Ipricked Toby with the spur and rode on more rapidly, when, on turninga bend in the road where it is intersected by one from the east, whomshould I come face to face with but Master Richard? For a moment hestared at me with open mouth, and I at him; then his brow grew dark.

  "I thought," he cried; but suddenly the humour of our meeting cameover him. Thrusting his hands into his pockets, he broke out into ahearty burst of laughter, and I could do nothing but follow.

  "And so, Master Frisby, you rode down the east road."

  "And you, methinks, rode down the south." Again our laughter rangthrough the woods.

  "Come," he cried, "which is it to be? So fair a maid deserves twocavaliers, but we would be at sword points within a week, and I do notwish to lose the friendship of Mr. James Frisby of Fairlee."

  "A chance has brought us here, so let chance decide."

  "Agreed," said Dick, pulling out a sovereign, and with a twitch of thethumb, he sent it high in the air. "Heads, you win. Tails, I win."Then catching it as it fell: "By Jove, you have it. Present mycompliments to Mistress Jean," he cried, with a grandiloquent bow,"and tell her how near she came to being Mrs. Dick Ringgold of HuntingField."

  "That I will, Sir Richard." But Dick was gone, and I was left to rideon to the Braes.

  A long, rambling house it was, standing white amid the trees, a widelawn around it stretching down to the creek at its foot; while beyondcould be seen the sunlight gleaming on the bay. A quaint,old-fashioned place, the low roof already growing dark with age; thequiet air of ease and comfort brooding over all, making a fittingsetting for the quaint, slender little lady that ruled its destinies.

  A negro took my horse; another showed me across the broad hall, withits hunting whips and trophies on the wall, to the parlour, and thereI awaited the coming of the Tory maid. And as I sat there, gentlystroking the toe of my boot with my whip, and thinking of that nightat the inn, of that soft "Thank you" on the old south road, I heardthe soft swish of her skirts, and, looking up, saw Mistress Jeanstanding in the doorway. A beautiful picture it was, like some oldportrait of Lely's, the maid standing there framed in the old oak. AndI, though I had been to the balls at the Governor's house the winterbefore, and was therefore a man of the world, sat staring for amoment. But she advanced, and I was on my feet with a low and sweepingbow.

  "Father is away," said she, "but in his name I wish to thank you fordefending us at the inn that night."

  So she knew.

  "It was to save the honour of Maryland gentlemen," I replied modestly."Heretofore they have not fought in mobs. But will you not thank mefor yourself?"

  "When you turn loyalist, yes," said she.

  "Almost thou persuadest me to become a traitor."

  "You are that already," she said with spirit.

  "Yes, that is the way they have written 'Patriot' since Tyranny firststalked across the world. But patriot or traitor, Mistress Jean, Ihave already won one 'Thank you,' and I hope some day to win another."

  "Won one 'Thank you'--when and where?" and she looked at me with wideopen eyes.

  Now every Marylander will admit that there are no more gallant fellowsin the world than we are, and if any one chooses to dispute it, welland good, we are willing to cross swords with him any day, and soreprove him for his recklessness. Indeed, we have been called withtruth the Gascons of the South, and, like those gallant gentlemen ofold France, we have never hidden our light under a bushel, to use ahomely phrase; and so when I saw Mistress Jean's air of surprise, thespirit of my race came over me.

  "Yes," I replied, "it was the sweetest 'Thank you' I ever heard."

  Again the mystified look.

  "But where?" said she again.

  "It was rather dark," I replied, "and the clouds were drifting acrossthe sky, and you, I am afraid, did not know who it was who receivedthat soft 'Thank you.'"

  "Were you the Lieutenant?"

  I bowed.

  "Oh," she said, and she stamped her tiny foot, "if you were only not arebel!"

  "But even rebels have their uses."

  Thus it was we became good friends in spite of the traitor stampedupon my brow. Ere I knew it, the time approached when I had to mountand ride. But before I left, her soft hand rested for a moment inmine.

  "We march in a few days," said I, "to the North, to the Leaguer ofBoston. There will be fighting there and bloody work. Can I not carrya single token?"

  Her nimble fingers flew to her hair, and took from thence a blood-redrose, and pinned it to my coat.

  "There," said she, "my red cockade;" and turning quickly, she ran intothe house.