CHAPTER XXIV
Hushed were his Gertrude's lips; but still their bland And beautiful expression seemed to melt With love that could not die! and still his hand She presses to the heart no more that felt. --_Gertrude of Wyoming_.
The brief arrangements of the dragoons had prepared two apartments forthe reception of the ladies, the one being intended as a sleeping room,and situated within the other. Into the latter Isabella was immediatelyconveyed, at her own request, and placed on a rude bed by the side ofthe unconscious Sarah. When Miss Peyton and Frances flew to herassistance, they found her with a smile on her pallid lip, and acomposure in her countenance, that induced them to think her uninjured.
"God be praised!" exclaimed the trembling aunt. "The report of firearms,and your fall, had led me into error. Surely, surely, there was enoughhorror before; but this has been spared us."
Isabella pressed her hand upon her bosom, still smiling, but with aghastliness that curdled the blood of Frances.
"Is George far distant?" she asked. "Let him know--hasten him, that Imay see my brother once again."
"It is as I apprehended!" shrieked Miss Peyton. "But you smile--surelyyou are not hurt!"
"Quite well--quite happy," murmured Isabella; "here is a remedy forevery pain."
Sarah arose from the reclining posture she had taken, and gazed wildlyat her companion. She stretched forth her own hand, and raised that ofIsabella from her bosom. It was dyed in blood.
"See," said Sarah, "but will it not wash away love? Marry, young woman,and then no one can expel him from your heart, unless,"--she added,whispering, and bending over the other,--"you find another there beforeyou; then die, and go to heaven--there are no wives in heaven."
The lovely maniac hid her face under the clothes, and continued silentduring the remainder of the night. At this moment Lawton entered. Inuredas he was to danger in all its forms, and accustomed to the horrors of apartisan war, the trooper could not behold the ruin before him unmoved.He bent over the fragile form of Isabella, and his gloomy eye betrayedthe workings of his soul.
"Isabella," he at length uttered, "I know you to possess a couragebeyond the strength of women."
"Speak," she said, earnestly; "if you have anything to say, speakfearlessly."
The trooper averted his face as he replied, "None ever receive a ballthere, and survive."
"I have no dread of death, Lawton," returned Isabella. "I thank you fornot doubting me; I felt it from the first."
"These are not scenes for a form like yours," added the trooper. "'Tisenough that Britain calls our youth to the field; but when suchloveliness becomes the victim of war, I sicken of my trade."
"Hear me, Captain Lawton," said Isabella, raising herself withdifficulty, but rejecting aid. "From early womanhood to the present hourhave I been an inmate of camps and garrisons. I have lived to cheer theleisure of an aged father, and think you I would change those days ofdanger and privation for any ease? No! I have the consolation ofknowing, in my dying moments, that what woman could do in such a cause,I have done."
"Who could prove a recreant, and witness such a spirit! Hundreds ofwarriors have I witnessed in their blood, but never a firmer soul amongthem all."
"'Tis the soul only," said Isabella. "My sex and strength have denied methe dearest of privileges. But to you, Captain Lawton, nature has beenmore bountiful; you have an arm and a heart to devote to the cause; andI know they are in arm and a heart that will prove true to the last.And George--and--" she paused, her lip quivered, and her eye sank tothe floor.
"And Dunwoodie!" added the trooper. "Would you speak of Dunwoodie?"
"Name him not," said Isabella, sinking back, and concealing her face inher garments. "Leave me, Lawton--prepare poor George for thisunexpected blow."
The trooper continued for a little while gazing, in melancholy interest,at the convulsive shudderings of her frame, which the scanty coveringcould not conceal, and withdrew to meet his comrade. The interviewbetween Singleton and his sister was painful, and, for a moment,Isabella yielded to a burst of tenderness; but, as if aware that herhours were numbered, she was the first to rouse herself to exertion. Ather earnest request, the room was left to herself, the captain, andFrances. The repeated applications of the surgeon, to be permitted touse professional aid, were steadily rejected, and, at length, he wasobliged unwillingly to retire.
"Raise me," said the dying young woman, "and let me look on a face thatI love, once more." Frances silently complied, and Isabella turned hereyes in sisterly affection upon George. "It matters but little, mybrother--a few hours must close the scene."
"Live, Isabella, my sister, my only sister!" cried the youth, with aburst of sorrow that he could not control. "My father! my poor father--"
"There is the sting of death; but he is a soldier and a Christian. MissWharton, I would speak of what interests you, while yet I have strengthfor the task."
"Nay," said Frances, tenderly, "compose yourself; let no desire tooblige me endanger a life that is precious to--to--so many." The wordswere nearly stifled by her emotions, for the other had touched a chordthat thrilled to her heart.
"Poor, sensitive girl!" said Isabella, regarding her with tenderinterest; "but the world is still before you, and why should I disturbthe little happiness it may afford! Dream on, lovely innocent! and mayGod keep the evil day of knowledge far distant!"
"Oh, there is even now little left for me to enjoy," said Frances,burying her face in the clothes. "I am heartstricken in all that Imost loved."
"No!" interrupted Isabella; "you have one inducement to wish for life,that pleads strongly in a woman's breast. It is a delusion that nothingbut death can destroy--" Exhaustion compelled her to pause, and herauditors continued in breathless suspense, until, recovering herstrength, she laid her hand on that of Frances, and continued moremildly, "Miss Wharton, if there breathes a spirit congenial toDunwoodie's, and worthy of his love, it is your own."
A flush of fire passed over the face of the listener, and she raised hereyes, flashing with an ungovernable look of delight, to the countenanceof Isabella; but the ruin she beheld recalled better feelings, and againher head dropped upon the covering of the bed. Isabella watched heremotion with a look that partook both of pity and admiration.
"Such have been the feelings that I have escaped," she continued. "Yes,Miss Wharton, Dunwoodie is wholly yours."
"Be just to yourself, my sister," exclaimed the youth; "let no romanticgenerosity cause you to forget your own character."
She heard him, and fixed a gaze of tender interest on his face, butslowly shook her head as she replied,--
"It is not romance, but truth, that bids me speak. Oh! how much have Ilived within an hour! Miss Wharton, I was born under a burning sun, andmy feelings seem to have imbibed its warmth; I have existed forpassion only."
"Say not so--say not so, I implore you," cried the agitated brother."Think how devoted has been your love to our aged father; howdisinterested, how tender, your affection to me!"
"Yes," said Isabella, a smile of mild pleasure beaming on hercountenance, "that, at least, is a reflection which may be taken tothe grave."
Neither Frances nor her brother interrupted her meditations, whichcontinued for several minutes; when, suddenly recollecting herself, shecontinued,--
"I remain selfish even to the last; with me, Miss Wharton, America andher liberties were my earliest passion, and--" Again she paused, andFrances thought it was the struggle of death that followed; butreviving, she proceeded, "Why should I hesitate, on the brink of thegrave! Dunwoodie was my next and my last. But," burying her face in herhands, "it was a love that was unsought."
"Isabella!" exclaimed her brother, springing from the bed, and pacingthe floor in disorder.
"See how dependent we become under the dominion of worldly pride; it ispainful to George to learn that one he loves had not feelings superiorto her nature and education."
"Say no more," whispered
Frances; "you distress us both--say no more, Ientreat you."
"In justice to Dunwoodie I must speak; and for the same reason, mybrother, you must listen. By no act or word has Dunwoodie ever inducedme to believe he wished me more than a friend; nay, latterly, I have hadthe burning shame of thinking that he avoided my presence."
"Would he dare?" said Singleton, fiercely.
"Peace, my brother, and listen," continued Isabella, rousing herselfwith an effort that was final. "Here is the innocent, the justifiablecause. We are both motherless; but that aunt--that mild, plain-hearted,observing aunt, has given you the victory. Oh! how much she loses, wholoses a female guardian to her youth. I have exhibited those feelingswhich you have been taught to repress. After this, can I wish to live?"
"Isabella! my poor Isabella! you wander in your mind."
"But one word more--for I feel that blood, which ever flowed tooswiftly, rushing where nature never intended it to go. Woman must besought to be prized; her life is one of concealed emotions; blessed arethey whose early impressions make the task free from hypocrisy, for suchonly can be happy with men like--like Dunwoodie." Her voice failed, andshe sank back on her pillow in silence. The cry of Singleton brought therest of the party to her bedside; but death was already upon hercountenance; her remaining strength just sufficed to reach the hand ofGeorge, and pressing it to her bosom for a moment, she relinquished hergrasp, and, with a slight convulsion, expired.
Frances Wharton had thought that fate had done its worst, in endangeringthe life of her brother, and destroying the reason of her sister; butthe relief conveyed by the dying declaration of Isabella taught her thatanother sorrow had aided in loading her heart with grief. She saw thewhole truth at a glance; nor was the manly delicacy of Dunwoodie lostupon her--everything tended to raise him in her estimation; and, formourning that duty and pride had induced her to strive to think less ofhim, she was compelled to substitute regret that her own act had drivenhim from her in sorrow, if not in desperation. It is not in the natureof youth, however, to despair; and Frances now knew a secret joy thatgave a new spring to her existence.
The sun broke forth, on the morning that succeeded this night ofdesolation, in unclouded luster, and seemed to mock the petty sorrows ofthose who received his rays. Lawton had early ordered his steed, and wasready to mount as the first burst of light broke over the hills. Hisorders were already given, and the trooper threw his leg across thesaddle, in silence; and, casting a glance of fierce chagrin at thenarrow space that had favored the flight of the Skinner, he gave Roanokethe rein, and moved slowly towards the valley.
The stillness of death pervaded the road, nor was there a single vestigeof the scenes of the night, to tarnish the loveliness of a gloriousmorn. Struck with the contrast between man and nature, the fearlesstrooper rode by each pass of danger, regardless of what might happen;nor did he rouse himself from his musing, until the noble charger,snuffing the morning air, greeted the steeds of the guard under SergeantHollister.
Here, indeed, was to be seen sad evidence of the midnight fray, but thetrooper glanced his eye over it with the coolness of one accustomed tosuch sights. Without wasting the moments in useless regrets, heproceeded, at once, to business.
"Have you seen anything?" he demanded of the orderly.
"Nothing, sir, that we dared to charge upon," returned Hollister; "butwe mounted once, at the report of distant firearms."
"'Tis well," said Lawton, gloomily. "Ah! Hollister, I would give theanimal I ride, to have had your single arm between the wretch who drewthat trigger and these useless rocks, which overhang every bit ofground, as if they grudged pasture to a single hoof."
"Under the light of day, and charging man to man, I am as good asanother; but I can't say that I'm overfond of fighting with those thatneither steel nor lead can bring down."
"What silly crotchet is uppermost, now, in that mystified brain ofthine, Deacon Hollister?"
"I like not the dark object that has been maneuvering in the skirt ofthe wood since the first dawn of day; and twice, during the night, itwas seen marching across the firelight, no doubt with evil intent."
"Is it yon ball of black, at the foot of the rock maple, that you mean?In truth it moves."
"But without mortal motion," said the sergeant, regarding it with awfulreverence. "It glides along, but no feet have been seen by any whowatch here."
"Had it wings," cried Lawton, "it is mine; stand fast, until I join."The words were hardly uttered before Roanoke was flying across theplain, and apparently verifying the boast of his master.
"Those cursed rocks!" ejaculated the trooper, as he saw the object ofhis pursuit approaching the hillside; but, either from want of practiceor from terror, it passed the obvious shelter they offered, and fledinto the open plain.
"I have you, man or devil!" shouted Lawton, whirling his saber from itsscabbard. "Halt, and take quarter!"
His proposition was apparently acceded to; for, at the sound of hispowerful voice, the figure sank upon the ground, exhibiting a shapelessball of black, without life or motion.
"What have we here?" cried Lawton, drawing up by its side. "A gala suitof the good maiden, Jeanette Peyton, wandering around its birthplace, orsearching in vain for its discomfited mistress?" He leaned forward inhis stirrups, and placing the point of his sword under the silkengarment, by throwing aside the covering, discovered part of the form ofthe reverend gentleman who had fled from the Locusts, the eveningbefore, in his robes of office.
"In truth, Hollister had some ground for his alarm; an army chaplain is,at any time, a terror to a troop of horse."
The clergyman had collected enough of his disturbed faculties, todiscover that it was a face he knew, and somewhat disconcerted at theterror he had manifested, and the indecent attitude in which he had beenfound, he endeavored to rise and offer some explanation. Lawton receivedhis apologies good-humoredly, if not with much faith in their truth;and, after a short communication upon the state of the valley, thetrooper courteously alighted, and they proceeded towards the guard.
"I am so little acquainted, sir, with the rebel uniform, that I reallywas unable to distinguish, whether those men, whom you say are your own,did or did not belong to the gang of marauders."
"Apology, sir, is unnecessary," replied the trooper, curling his lip."It is not your task, as a minister of God, to take note of the facingsof a coat. The standard under which you serve is acknowledged byus all."
"I serve under the standard of his gracious Majesty, George III,"returned the priest, wiping the cold sweat from his brow. "But reallythe idea of being scalped has a strong tendency to unman a new-beginner,like myself."
"Scalped!" echoed Lawton, stopping short in his walk. Then recollectinghimself, he added, with composure, "If it is to Dunwoodie's squadron ofVirginia light dragoons that you allude, it may be well to inform youthat they generally take a bit of the skull with the skin."
"Oh! I can have no apprehensions of gentlemen of your appearance," saidthe divine, with a smirk. "It is the natives that I apprehend."
"Natives! I have the honor to be one, I assure you, sir."
"Nay, I beg that I may be understood--I mean the Indians; they who donothing but rob, and murder, and destroy."
"And scalp!"
"Yes, sir, and scalp too," continued the clergyman, eying his companiona little suspiciously; "the copper-colored, savage Indians."
"And did you expect to meet those nose-jeweled gentry in the neutralground?"
"Certainly; we understand in England that the interior swarms withthem."
"And call you this the interior of America?" cried Lawton, againhalting, and staring the other in the face, with a surprise toonaturally expressed to be counterfeited.
"Surely, sir, I conceive myself to be in the interior."
"Attend," said Lawton, pointing towards the east. "See you not thatbroad sheet of water which the eye cannot compass? Thither lies theEngland you deem worthy to hold dominion over half the world. See youthe land of your nativ
ity?"
"'Tis impossible to behold objects at a distance of three thousandmiles!" exclaimed the wondering priest, a little suspicious of hiscompanion's sanity.
"No! what a pity it is that the powers of man are not equal to hisambition. Now turn your eyes westward; observe that vast expanse ofwater which rolls between the shores of America and China."
"I see nothing but land," said the trembling priest; "there is no waterto be seen."
"'Tis impossible to behold objects at a distance of three thousandmiles!" repeated Lawton, pursuing his walk. "If you apprehend thesavages, seek them in the ranks of your prince. Rum and gold havepreserved their loyalty."
"Nothing is more probable than my being deceived," said the man ofpeace, casting furtive glances at the colossal stature and whiskeredfront of his companion; "but the rumors we have at home, and theuncertainty of meeting with such an enemy as yourself, induced me to flyat your approach."
"'Twas not judiciously determined," said the trooper, "as Roanoke hasthe heels of you greatly; and flying from Scylla, you were liable toencounter Charybdis. Those woods and rocks cover the very enemiesyou dread."
"The savages!" exclaimed the divine, instinctively placing the trooperin the rear.
"More than savages; men who, under the guise of patriotism, prowlthrough the community, with a thirst for plunder that is unsatiable, anda love of cruelty that mocks the ingenuity of the Indian--fellows whosemouths are filled with liberty and equality, and whose hearts areoverflowing with cupidity and gall--gentlemen that are ycleped theSkinners."
"I have heard them mentioned in our army," said the frightened divine,"and had thought them to be the aborigines."
"You did the savages injustice."
They now approached the spot occupied by Hollister, who witnessed withsurprise the character of the prisoner made by his captain. Lawton gavehis orders, and the men immediately commenced securing and removing sucharticles of furniture as were thought worthy of the trouble; and thecaptain, with his reverend associate, who was mounted on a mettledhorse, returned to the quarters of the troop.
It was the wish of Singleton that the remains of his sister should beconveyed to the post commanded by his father, and preparations wereearly made to this effect. The wounded British were placed under thecontrol of the chaplain; and towards the middle of the day Lawton sawall the arrangements so far completed, as to render it probable that ina few hours he would be left with his small party, in undisturbedpossession of the Corners.
While leaning in the doorway, gazing in moody silence at the groundwhich had been the scene of the last night's chase, his ear caught thesound of a horse, and the next moment a dragoon of his own troopappeared dashing up the road, as if on business of the last importance.The steed was foaming, and the rider had the appearance of having done aday's service. Without speaking, he placed a letter in the hand ofLawton, and led his charger to the stable. The trooper knew the hand ofthe major, and ran his eye over the following:--
"I rejoice it is the order of Washington, that the family of the Locustsare to be removed above the Highlands. They are to be admitted to thesociety of Captain Wharton, who waits only for their testimony to betried. You will communicate this order, and with proper delicacy I donot doubt. The English are moving up the river; and the moment you seethe Whartons in safety, break up and join your troop. There will be goodservice to be done when we meet, as Sir Henry is reported to have sentout a real soldier in command. Reports must be made to the commandant atPeekskill, for Colonel Singleton is withdrawn to headquarters, topreside over the inquiry upon poor Wharton. Fresh orders have been sentto hang the peddler if we can take him, but they are not from thecommander in chief. Detail a small guard with the ladies, and get intothe saddle as soon as possible."
Yours sincerely,"PEYTON DUNWOODIE."
This communication entirely changed the whole arrangement. There was nolonger any motive for removing the body of Isabella, since her fatherwas no longer with his command, and Singleton reluctantly acquiesced inan immediate interment. A retired and lovely spot was selected, near thefoot of the adjacent rocks, and such rude preparations were made as thetime and the situation of the country permitted. A few of theneighboring inhabitants collected from curiosity and interest, and MissPeyton and Frances wept in sincerity over her grave. The solemn officesof the church were performed by the minister, who had so lately stoodforth to officiate in another and very different duty; and Lawton benthis head, and passed his hand across his brow, while the words thataccompanied the first clod were uttered.
A new stimulus was given to the Whartons by the intelligence conveyed inthe letter of Dunwoodie; and Caesar, with his horses, was once more putin requisition. The relics of the property were intrusted to a neighbor,in whom they had confidence; and, accompanied by the unconscious Sarah,and attended by four dragoons and all of the American wounded, Mr.Wharton's party took their departure. They were speedily followed by theEnglish chaplain, with his countrymen, who were conveyed to thewaterside, where a vessel was in waiting to receive them. Lawtonjoyfully witnessed these movements; and as soon as the latter were outof sight, he ordered his own bugle to sound. Everything was instantly inmotion. The mare of Mrs. Flanagan was again fastened to the cart; Dr.Sitgreaves exhibited his shapeless form once more on horseback; and thetrooper appeared in the saddle, rejoicing in his emancipation.
The word to march was given; and Lawton, throwing a look of sullenferocity at the place of the Skinner's concealment, and another ofmelancholy regret towards the grave of Isabella, led the way,accompanied by the surgeon in a brown study; while Sergeant Hollisterand Betty brought up the rear, leaving a fresh southerly wind to whistlethrough the open doors and broken windows of the "Hotel Flanagan," wherethe laugh of hilarity, the joke of the hardy partisan, and thelamentations of the sorrowing, had so lately echoed.