The Spy

  CHAPTER XXX

  And here, forlorn and lost, I tread, With fainting steps, and slow; Where wilds, immeasurably spread, Seem length'ning as I go. --GOLDSMITH.

  The night had set in dark and chilling, as Frances Wharton, with abeating heart but light step, moved through the little garden that laybehind the farmhouse which had been her brother's prison, and took herway to the foot of the mountain, where she had seen the figure of himshe supposed to be the peddler. It was still early, but the darkness andthe dreary nature of a November evening would, at any other moment, orwith less inducement to exertion, have driven her back in terror to thecircle she had left. Without pausing to reflect, however, she flew overthe ground with a rapidity that seemed to bid defiance to allimpediments, nor stopped even to breathe, until she had gone half thedistance to the rock that she had marked as the spot where Birch madehis appearance on that very morning.

  The good treatment of their women is the surest evidence that a peoplecan give of their civilization; and there is no nation which has more toboast of, in this respect, than the Americans. Frances felt but littleapprehension from the orderly and quiet troops who were taking theirevening's repast on the side of the highway, opposite to the fieldthrough which she was flying. They were her countrymen, and she knewthat her sex would be respected by the Eastern militia, who composedthis body; but in the volatile and reckless character of the Southernhorse she had less confidence. Outrages of any description were seldomcommitted by the really American soldiery; but she recoiled, withexquisite delicacy, from even the appearance of humiliation. When,therefore, she heard the footsteps of a horse moving slowly up the road,she shrank, timidly, into a little thicket of wood which grew aroundthe spring that bubbled from the side of a hillock near her. Thevidette, for such it proved to be, passed her without noticing her form,which was so enveloped as to be as little conspicuous as possible,humming a low air to himself, and probably thinking of some other fairthat he had left on the banks of the Potomac.

  Frances listened anxiously to the retreating footsteps of his horse,and, as they died upon her ear, she ventured from her place of secrecy,and advanced a short distance into the field, where, startled at thegloom, and appalled with the dreariness of the prospect, she paused toreflect on what she had undertaken. Throwing back the hood of hercardinal, she sought the support of a tree, and gazed towards the summitof the mountain that was to be the goal of her enterprise. It rose fromthe plain like a huge pyramid, giving nothing to the eye but itsoutlines. The pinnacle could be faintly discerned in front of a lighterbackground of clouds, between which a few glimmering stars occasionallytwinkled in momentary brightness, and then gradually became obscured bythe passing vapor that was moving before the wind, at a vast distancebelow the clouds themselves. Should she return, Henry and the peddlerwould most probably pass the night in fancied security upon that veryhill towards which she was straining her eyes, in the vain hope ofobserving some light that might encourage her to proceed. Thedeliberate, and what to her seemed cold-blooded, project of the officerfor the recapture of the fugitives, still rang in her ears, andstimulated her to go on; but the solitude into which she must venture,the time, the actual danger of the ascent, and the uncertainty of herfinding the hut, or what was still more disheartening, the chance thatit might be occupied by unknown tenants, and those of the worstdescription--urged her to retreat.

  The increasing darkness was each moment rendering objects less and lessdistinct, and the clouds were gathering more gloomily in the rear of thehill, until its form could no longer be discerned. Frances threw backher rich curls with both hands on her temples, in order to possess hersenses in their utmost keenness; but the towering hill was entirely lostto the eye. At length she discovered a faint and twinkling blaze in thedirection in which she thought the building stood, that, by its revivingand receding luster, might be taken for the glimmering of a fire. Butthe delusion vanished, as the horizon again cleared, and the star ofevening shone forth from a cloud, after struggling hard, as if forexistence. She now saw the mountain to the left of the place where theplanet was shining, and suddenly a streak of mellow light burst upon thefantastic oaks that were thinly scattered over its summit, and graduallymoved down its side, until the whole pile became distinct under the raysof the rising moon. Although it would have been physically impossiblefor our heroine to advance without the aid of the friendly light, whichnow gleamed on the long line of level land before her, yet she was notencouraged to proceed. If she could see the goal of her wishes, shecould also perceive the difficulties that must attend her reaching it.

  While deliberating in distressing incertitude, now shrinking with thetimidity of her sex and years from the enterprise, and now resolving torescue her brother at every hazard, Frances turned her looks towards theeast, in earnest gaze at the clouds which constantly threatened toinvolve her again in comparative darkness. Had an adder stung her, shecould not have sprung with greater celerity than she recoiled from theobject against which she was leaning, and which she for the first timenoticed. The two upright posts, with a crossbeam on their tops, and arude platform beneath, told but too plainly the nature of the structure;even the cord was suspended from an iron staple, and was swinging to andfro, in the night air. Frances hesitated no longer, but rather flew thanran across the meadow, and was soon at the base of the rock, where shehoped to find something like a path to the summit of the mountain. Hereshe was compelled to pause for breath, and she improved the leisure bysurveying the ground about her. The ascent was quite abrupt, but shesoon found a sheep path that wound among the shelving rocks and throughthe trees, so as to render her labor much less tiresome than itotherwise would have been. Throwing a fearful glance behind, thedetermined girl commenced her journey upwards. Young, active, andimpelled by her generous motive, she moved up the hill with elasticsteps, and very soon emerged from the cover of the woods, into an openspace of more level ground, that had evidently been cleared of itstimber, for the purpose of cultivation. But either the war or thesterility of the soil had compelled the adventurer to abandon theadvantages that he had obtained over the wilderness, and already thebushes and briers were springing up afresh, as if the plow had nevertraced furrows through the mold which nourished them. Frances felt herspirits invigorated by these faint vestiges of the labor of man, and shewalked up the gentle acclivity with renewed hopes of success. The pathnow diverged in so many different directions, that she soon saw it wouldbe useless to follow their windings, and abandoning it, at the firstturn, she labored forward towards what she thought was the nearest pointof the summit. The cleared ground was soon past, and woods and rocks,clinging to the precipitous sides of the mountain, again opposedthemselves to her progress. Occasionally, the path was to be seenrunning along the verge of the clearing, and then striking off into thescattering patches of grass and herbage, but in no instance could shetrace it upward. Tufts of wool, hanging to the briers, sufficientlydenoted the origin of these tracks, and Frances rightly conjectured thatwhoever descended the mountain, would avail himself of their existence,to lighten the labor. Seating herself on a stone, the wearied girl againpaused to rest and to reflect; the clouds were rising before the moon,and the whole scene at her feet lay pictured in softest colors.

  The white tents of the militia were stretched in regular linesimmediately beneath her. The light was shining in the window of heraunt, who, Frances easily fancied, was watching the mountain, rackedwith all the anxiety she might be supposed to feel for her niece.Lanterns were playing about in the stable yard, where she knew thehorses of the dragoons were kept, and believing them to be preparing fortheir night march, she again sprang upon her feet, and renewed her toil.

  Our heroine had to ascend more than a quarter of a mile farther,although she had already conquered two thirds of the height of themountain. But she was now without a path or any guide to direct her inher course. Fortunately, the hill was conical, like most of themountains in that range, and, by advancing upwar
ds, she was certain ofat length reaching the desired hut, which hung, as it were, on the verypinnacle. Nearly an hour did she struggle with the numerous difficultiesthat she was obliged to overcome, when, having been repeatedly exhaustedwith her efforts, and, in several instances, in great danger from falls,she succeeded in gaining the small piece of tableland on the summit.

  Faint with her exertions, which had been unusually severe for so slighta frame, she sank on a rock, to recover her strength and fortitude forthe approaching interview. A few moments sufficed for this purpose, whenshe proceeded in quest of the hut. All of the neighboring hills weredistinctly visible by the aid of the moon, and Frances was able, whereshe stood, to trace the route of the highway, from the plains into themountains. By following this line with her eyes, she soon discovered thepoint whence she had seen the mysterious dwelling, and directly oppositeto that point she well knew the hut must stand.

  The chilling air sighed through the leafless branches of the gnarled andcrooked oaks, as with a step so light as hardly to rustle the dry leaveson which she trod, Frances moved forward to that part of the hill whereshe expected to find this secluded habitation; but nothing could shediscern that in the least resembled a dwelling of any sort. In vain sheexamined every recess of the rocks, or inquisitively explored every partof the summit that she thought could hold the tenement of the peddler.No hut, nor any vestige of a human being could she trace. The idea ofher solitude struck on the terrified mind of the affrighted girl, andapproaching to the edge of a shelving rock, she bent forward to gaze onthe signs of life in the vale, when a ray of keen light dazzled hereyes, and a warm ray diffused itself over her whole frame. Recoveringfrom her surprise, Frances looked on the ledge beneath her, and at onceperceived that she stood directly over the object of her search. A holethrough its roof afforded a passage to the smoke, which, as it blewaside, showed her a clear and cheerful fire crackling and snapping on arude hearth of stone. The approach to the front of the hut was by awinding path around the point of the rock on which she stood, and bythis, she advanced to its door.

  Three sides of this singular edifice, if such it could be called, werecomposed of logs laid alternately on each other, to a little more thanthe height of a man; and the fourth was formed by the rock against whichit leaned. The roof was made of the bark of trees, laid in long stripsfrom the rock to its eaves; the fissures between the logs had beenstuffed with clay, which in many places had fallen out, and dried leaveswere made use of as a substitute, to keep out the wind. A single windowof four panes of glass was in front, but a board carefully closed it, insuch a manner as to emit no light from the fire within. After pausingsome time to view this singularly constructed hiding place, for suchFrances well knew it to be, she applied her eye to a crevice to examinethe inside. There was no lamp or candle, but the blazing fire of drywood made the interior of the hut light enough to read by. In one cornerlay a bed of straw, with a pair of blankets thrown carelessly over it,as if left where they had last been used. Against the walls and rockwere suspended, from pegs forced into the crevices, various garments,and such as were apparently fitted for all ages and conditions, and foreither sex. British and American uniforms hung peaceably by the side ofeach other; and on the peg that supported a gown of striped calico, suchas was the usual country wear, was also depending a well-powdered wig:in short, the attire was numerous and as various as if a whole parishwere to be equipped from this one wardrobe.

  In the angle against the rock, and opposite to the fire which wasburning in the other corner, was an open cupboard, that held a plate ortwo, a mug, and the remains of some broken meat. Before the fire was atable, with one of its legs fractured, and made of rough boards; these,with a single stool, composed the furniture, if we except a few articlesof cooking. A book, that by its size and shape, appeared to be a Bible,was lying on the table, unopened. But it was the occupant of the hut inwhom Frances was chiefly interested. This was a man, sitting on thestool, with his head leaning on his hand, in such a manner as to concealhis features, and deeply occupied in examining some open papers. On thetable lay a pair of curiously and richly mounted horseman's pistols, andthe handle of a sheathed rapier, of exquisite workmanship, protrudedfrom between the legs of the gentleman, one of whose hands carelesslyrested on its guard. The tall stature of this unexpected tenant of thehut, and his form, much more athletic than that of either Harvey or herbrother, told Frances, without the aid of his dress, that it was neitherof those she sought. A close surtout was buttoned high in the throat ofthe stranger, and parting at his knees, showed breeches of buff, withmilitary boots and spurs. His hair was dressed so as to expose the wholeface; and, after the fashion of that day, it was profusely powdered. Around hat was laid on the stones that formed a paved floor to the hut,as if to make room for a large map, which, among the other papers,occupied the table.

  This was an unexpected event to our adventurer. She had been soconfident that the figure twice seen was the peddler, that on learninghis agency in her brother's escape, she did not in the least doubt offinding them both in the place, which, she now discovered, was occupiedby another and a stranger. She stood, earnestly looking through thecrevice, hesitating whether to retire, or to wait with the expectationof yet meeting Henry, as the stranger moved his hand from before hiseyes, and raised his face, apparently in deep musing, when Francesinstantly recognized the benevolent and strongly marked, but composedfeatures of Harper.

  All that Dunwoodie had said of his power and disposition, all that hehad himself promised her brother, and all the confidence that had beencreated by his dignified and paternal manner, rushed across the mind ofFrances, who threw open the door of the hut, and falling at his feet,clasped his knees with her arms, as she cried,--

  "Save him--save him--save my brother; remember your promise, and savehim!"

  Harper had risen as the door opened, and there was a slight movement ofone hand towards his pistols; but it was cool and instantly checked. Heraised the hood of the cardinal, which had fallen over her features, andexclaimed, with some uneasiness,--

  "Miss Wharton! But you cannot be alone?"

  "There is none here but my God and you; and by His sacred name, Iconjure you to remember your promise, and save my brother!"

  Harper gently raised her from her knees, and placed her on the stool,begging her at the same time to be composed, and to acquaint him withthe nature of her errand. This Frances instantly did, ingenuouslyadmitting him to a knowledge of all her views in visiting that lone spotat such an hour, and by herself.

  It was at all times difficult to probe the thoughts of one who held hispassions in such disciplined subjection as Harper, but still there was alighting of his thoughtful eye, and a slight unbending of his muscles,as the hurried and anxious girl proceeded in her narrative. Hisinterest, as she dwelt upon the manner of Henry's escape, and the flightto the woods, was deep and manifest, and he listened to the remainder ofher tale with a marked expression of benevolent indulgence. Herapprehensions, that her brother might still be too late through themountains, seemed to have much weight with him, for, as she concluded,he walked a turn or two across the hut, in silent musing.

  Frances hesitated, and unconsciously played with the handle of one ofthe pistols, and the paleness that her fears had spread over her finefeatures began to give place to a rich tint, as, after a short pause,she added,--

  "We can depend much on the friendship of Major Dunwoodie, but his senseof honor is so pure, that--that--notwithstanding his--his--feelings--hisdesire to serve us--he will conceive it to be his duty to apprehend mybrother again. Besides, he thinks there will be no danger in so doing,as he relies greatly on your interference."

  "On mine," said Harper, raising his eyes in surprise.

  "Yes, on yours. When we told him of your kind language, he at onceassured us all that you had the power, and, if you had promised, wouldhave the inclination, to procure Henry's pardon."

  "Said he more?" asked Harper, who appeared slightly uneasy.

  "Nothing but reiter
ated assurances of Henry's safety; even now he is inquest of you."

  "Miss Wharton, that I bear no mean part, in the unhappy struggle betweenEngland and America, it might now be useless to deny. You owe yourbrother's escape, this night, to my knowledge of his innocence, and theremembrance of my word. Major Dunwoodie is mistaken when he says that Imight openly have procured his pardon. I now, indeed, can control hisfate, and I pledge to you a word which has some influence withWashington, that means shall be taken to prevent his recapture. Butfrom you, also, I exact a promise, that this interview, and all that haspassed between us, remain confined to your own bosom, until you have mypermission to speak upon the subject."

  Frances gave the desired assurance, and he continued,--

  "The peddler and your brother will soon be here, but I must not be seenby the royal officer, or the life of Birch might be the forfeiture."

  "Never!" cried Frances, ardently. "Henry could never be so base as tobetray the man who saved him."

  "It is no childish game that we are now playing, Miss Wharton. Men'slives and fortunes hang upon slender threads, and nothing must be leftto accident that can be guarded against. Did Sir Henry Clinton know thatthe peddler had communion with me, and under such circumstances, thelife of the miserable man would be taken instantly; therefore, as youvalue human blood, or remember the rescue of your brother, be prudent,and be silent. Communicate what you know to them both, and urge them toinstant departure. If they can reach the last pickets of our army beforemorning, it shall be my care that there are none to intercept them.There is better work for Major Dunwoodie than to be exposing the life ofhis friend."

  While Harper was speaking, he carefully rolled up the map he had beenstudying, and placed it, together with sundry papers that were alsoopen, into his pocket. He was still occupied in this manner, when thevoice of the peddler, talking in unusually loud tones, was hearddirectly over their heads.

  "Stand farther this way, Captain Wharton, and you can see the tents inthe moonshine. But let them mount and ride; I have a nest here, thatwill hold us both, and we will go in at our leisure."

  "And where is this nest? I confess that I have eaten but little the lasttwo days, and I crave some of the cheer you mention."

  "Hem!" said the peddler, exerting his voice still more. "Hem--this foghas given me a cold; but move slow--and be careful not to slip, or youmay land on the bayonet of the sentinel on the flats; 'tis a steep hillto rise, but one can go down it with ease."

  Harper pressed his finger on his lip, to remind Frances of her promise,and, taking his pistols and hat, so that no vestige of his visitremained, he retired deliberately to a far corner of the hut, where,lifting several articles of dress, he entered a recess in the rock, and,letting them fall again, was hid from view. Frances noticed, by thestrong firelight, as he entered, that it was a natural cavity, andcontained nothing but a few more articles of domestic use.

  The surprise of Henry and the peddler, on entering and finding Francesin possession of the hut, may be easily imagined. Without waiting forexplanations or questions, the warm-hearted girl flew into the arms ofher brother, and gave a vent to her emotions in tears. But the peddlerseemed struck with very different feelings. His first look was at thefire, which had been recently supplied with fuel; he then drew open asmall drawer of the table, and looked a little alarmed at findingit empty.

  "Are you alone, Miss Fanny?" he asked, in a quick voice. "You did notcome here alone?"

  "As you see me, Mr. Birch," said Frances, raising herself from herbrother's arms, and turning an expressive glance towards the secretcavern, that the quick eye of the peddler instantly understood.

  "But why and wherefore are you here?" exclaimed her astonished brother;"and how knew you of this place at all?"

  Frances entered at once into a brief detail of what had occurred at thehouse since their departure, and the motives which induced her toseek them.

  "But," said Birch, "why follow us here, when we were left on theopposite hill?"

  Frances related the glimpse that she had caught of the hut and peddler,in her passage through the Highlands, as well as her view of him on thatday, and her immediate conjecture that the fugitives would seek theshelter of this habitation for the night. Birch examined her featuresas, with open ingenuousness, she related the simple incidents that hadmade her mistress of his secret; and, as she ended, he sprang upon hisfeet, and, striking the window with the stick in his hand, demolished itat a blow.

  "'Tis but little luxury or comfort that I know," he said, "but even thatlittle cannot be enjoyed in safety! Miss Wharton," he added, advancingbefore Frances, and speaking with the bitter melancholy that was commonto him, "I am hunted through these hills like a beast of the forest; butwhenever, tired with my toils, I can reach this spot, poor and dreary asit is, I can spend my solitary nights in safety. Will you aid to makethe life of a wretch still more miserable?"

  "Never!" cried Frances, with fervor; "your secret is safe with me."

  "Major Dunwoodie"--said the peddler, slowly, turning an eye upon herthat read her soul.

  Frances lowered her head upon her bosom, for a moment, in shame; then,elevating her fine and glowing face, she added, with enthusiasm,--

  "Never, never, Harvey, as God may hear my prayers!"

  The peddler seemed satisfied; for he drew back, and, watching hisopportunity, unseen by Henry, slipped behind the screen, and enteredthe cavern.

  Frances and her brother, who thought his companion had passed throughthe door, continued conversing on the latter's situation for severalminutes, when the former urged the necessity of expedition on his part,in order to precede Dunwoodie, from whose sense of duty they knew theyhad no escape. The captain took out his pocketbook, and wrote a fewlines with his pencil; then folding the paper, he handed it tohis sister.

  "Frances," he said, "you have this night proved yourself to be anincomparable woman. As you love me, give that unopened to Dunwoodie, andremember that two hours may save my life."

  "I will--I will; but why delay? Why not fly, and improve these preciousmoments?"

  "Your sister says well, Captain Wharton," exclaimed Harvey, who hadreentered unseen; "we must go at once. Here is food to eat, aswe travel."

  "But who is to see this fair creature in safety?" cried the captain. "Ican never desert my sister in such a place as this."

  "Leave me! leave me!" said Frances. "I can descend as I came up. Do notdoubt me; you know not my courage nor my strength."

  "I have not known you, dear girl, it is true; but now, as I learn yourvalue, can I quit you here? Never, never!"

  "Captain Wharton," said Birch, throwing open the door, "you can triflewith your own lives, if you have many to spare; I have but one, and mustnurse it. Do I go alone, or not?"

  "Go, go, dear Henry," said Frances, embracing him; "go; remember ourfather; remember Sarah." She waited not for his answer, but gentlyforced him through the door, and closed it with her own hands.

  For a short time there was a warm debate between Henry and the peddler;but the latter finally prevailed, and the breathless girl heard thesuccessive plunges, as they went down the sides of the mountain at arapid rate.

  Immediately after the noise of their departure had ceased, Harperreappeared. He took the arm of Frances in silence, and led her from thehut. The way seemed familiar to him; for, ascending to the ledge abovethem, he led his companion across the tableland tenderly, pointing outthe little difficulties in their route, and cautioning heragainst injury.

  Frances felt, as she walked by the side of this extraordinary man, thatshe was supported by one of no common stamp. The firmness of his step,and the composure of his manner, seemed to indicate a mind settled andresolved. By taking a route over the back of the hill, they descendedwith great expedition, and but little danger. The distance it had takenFrances an hour to conquer, was passed by Harper and his companion inten minutes, and they entered the open space already mentioned. Hestruck into one of the sheep paths, and, crossing the clearing withrapid steps,
they came suddenly upon a horse, caparisoned for a rider ofno mean rank. The noble beast snorted and pawed the earth, as his masterapproached and replaced the pistols in the holsters.

  Harper then turned, and, taking the hand of Frances, spoke as follows:--

  "You have this night saved your brother, Miss Wharton. It would not beproper for me to explain why there are limits to my ability to servehim; but if you can detain the horse for two hours, he is assuredlysafe. After what you have already done, I can believe you equal to anyduty. God has denied to me children, young lady; but if it had been Hisblessed will that my marriage should not have been childless, such atreasure as yourself would I have asked from His mercy. But you are mychild: all who dwell in this broad land are my children, and my care;and take the blessing of one who hopes yet to meet you in happier days."

  As he spoke, with a solemnity that touched Frances to the heart, he laidhis hand impressively upon her head. The guileless girl turned her facetowards him, and the hood again falling back, exposed her lovelyfeatures to the moonbeams. A tear was glistening on either cheek, andher mild blue eyes were gazing upon him in reverence. Harper bent andpressed a paternal kiss upon her forehead, and continued: "Any of thesesheep paths will take you to the plain; but here we must part--I havemuch to do and far to ride; forget me in all but your prayers."

  He then mounted his horse, and lifting his hat, rode towards the backof the mountain, descending at the same time, and was soon hid by thetrees. Frances sprang forward with a lightened heart, and taking thefirst path that led downwards, in a few minutes she reached the plain insafety. While busied in stealing through the meadows towards the house,the noise of horse approaching startled her, and she felt how much morewas to be apprehended from man, in some situations, than from solitude.Hiding her form in the angle of a fence near the road, she remainedquiet for a moment, and watched their passage. A small party ofdragoons, whose dress was different from the Virginians, passed at abrisk trot. They were followed by a gentleman, enveloped in a largecloak, whom she at once knew to be Harper. Behind him rode a black inlivery, and two youths in uniform brought up the rear. Instead of takingthe road that led by the encampment, they turned short to the left andentered the hills.

  Wondering who this unknown but powerful friend of her brother could be,Frances glided across the fields, and using due precautions inapproaching the dwelling, regained her residence undiscovered andin safety.