CHAPTER VI
A NIGHT AND A MORNING
As our coach passed Crown Street I could no longer doubt whither wewere bound. The shock of certainty aroused me from the stunned lethargywhich had chained me to silence. At the same moment Sir Peter thrusthis head from the window and called to his coachman:
"Drive home first!" And to me, resuming his seat: "We had nighforgotten the case of pistols, Carus."
The horses swung west into Maiden Lane, then south through NassauStreet, across Crown, Little Queen, and King Streets, swerving to theright around the City Hall, then sharp west again, stopping at our owngate with a clatter and clash of harness.
Sir Peter leaped out lightly, and I followed, leaving Dr. Carmody, withhis surgical case, to await our return.
Under the door-lanthorn Sir Peter turned, and in a low voice asked meif I could remember where the pistol-case was laid.
My mind was now clear and alert, my wits already busily at work. Toprevent Sir Peter's facing Walter Butler; to avoid Cunningham'sgallows; could the first be accomplished without failure in the second?Arrest might await me at any instant now, here in our own house, thereat the Coq d'Or, or even on the very field of honor itself.
"Where did you leave the pistol-case that day you practised in thegarden?" I asked coolly.
"'Twas you took it, Carus," he said. "Were you not showing the pistolsto Elsin Grey?"
I dropped my head, pretending to think. He waited a moment, then drewout his latch-key and opened the door very softly. A singlesconce-candle flared in the hall; he lifted it from the gilded socketand passed into the state drawing-room, holding the light above hishead, and searching over table and cabinet for the inlaid case.
Standing there in the hall I looked up the dark and shadowy stairway.There was no light, no sound. In the drawing-room I heard Sir Petermoving about, opening locked cupboards, lacquered drawers, and crystaldoors, the shifting light of his candle playing over wall and ceiling.Why he had not already found the case where I had placed it on thegilded French table I could not understand, and I stole to the door andlooked in. The French table stood empty save for a vase of shadowyflowers; Sir Peter was on his knees, candle in hand, searching theendless lines of book-shelves in the library. A strange suspicion stoleinto my heart which set it drumming on my ribs. Had Elsin Grey removedthe pistols? Had she wit enough to understand the matters threatening?
I looked up at the stairs again, then mounted them noiselessly, andtraversed the carpeted passage to her door. There was a faint lightglimmering under the sill. I laid my face against the panels andwhispered, "Elsin!"
"Who is there?" A movement from within, a creak from the bed, a rustleof a garment, then silence. Listening there, ear to her door, I hearddistinctly the steady breathing of some one also listening on the otherside.
"Elsin!"
"Is it you, Carus?"
She opened the door wide and stood there, candle in one hand, rubbingher eyes with the other, lace night-cap and flowing, beribboned robestirring in the draft of air from the dark hallway. But under theloosened neck-cloth I caught a gleam of a metal button, and instantly Iwas aware of a pretense somewhere, for beneath the flowing polonaise ofchintz, or Levete, which is a kind of gown and petticoat tied on theleft hip with a sash of lace, she was fully dressed, aye, and shod forthe street.
Instinctively I glanced at the bed, made a quick step past her, anddrew the damask curtain. The bed had not been slept in.
"What are you thinking of, Carus?" she said hotly, springing to thecurtain. There was a sharp sound of cloth tearing; she stumbled, caughtmy arm, and straightened up, red as fire, for the hem of her Levete waslaid open to the knee, and displayed a foot-mantle, under which a tinygolden spur flashed on a lacquered boot-heel.
"What does this mean?" I said sternly. "Whither do you ride at such anhour?"
She was speechless.
"Elsin! Elsin! If you had wit enough to hide Sir Peter's pistols,render them to me now. Delay may mean my ruin."
She stood at bay, eying me, uncertain but defiant.
"Where are they?" I urged impatiently.
"He shall not fight that man!" she muttered. "If I am the cause of thisquarrel I shall end it, too. What if he were killed by Walter Butler?"
"The pistols are beneath your mattress!" I said suddenly. "I must havethem."
Quick as thought she placed herself between me and the bed, blue eyessparkling, arms wide.
"Will you go?" she whispered fiercely. "How dare you intrude here!"
Taken aback by the sudden fury that flashed out in my very face, I gaveground.
"You little wildcat," I said, amazed, "give me the pistols! I know howto act. Give them, I say! Do you think me a poltroon to allow Sir Peterto face this rascal's fire?"
She straightened with a sudden quiver.
"You! The pistols were for _you!_"
"For me and Walter Butler," I said coolly. "Give them, Elsin. What hasbeen done this night has set me free of my vow. Can you not understand?I tell you he stands in my light, throwing the shadow of the gallowsover me! May a man not win back to life but a chit of a maid mustsnatch his chance away? Give them, or I swing at dawn upon the common!"
A flush of horror swept her cheeks, leaving her staring. Her wide-flungarms dropped nervelessly and hung beside her.
"Is it _true_," she faltered--"what he came here to tell us on his wayto that vile tavern? I gave him the lie, Carus. I gave him the lie therein the hall below." She choked, laying her white hand on her throat."Speak!" she said harshly; "do you fear to face this dreadful charge heflung in my teeth? I"--she almost sobbed--"I told him that he lied."
"He did not lie. I am a spy these four years here," I said wearily."Will you give me those pistols now?--or I take them by force!"
"Carus," called Sir Peter from the hall, "if Lady Coleville has mypistols, she must render them to you on the instant."
His passionless voice rang through the still, dark house.
"She has gone to the Coq d'Or," muttered Elsin Grey, motionless beforeme.
"To stop this duel?"
"To stop it. Oh, my God!"
There was a silence, broken by a quick tread on the stairs. The nextmoment Sir Peter appeared, staring at us there, candle flaring in hishand, his fingers striped with running wax.
"What does this mean?" he asked, confused. "Where is Lady Coleville?"
"She has gone to the Coq d'Or," I said. "Your pistols are hidden, sir."
He paled, gazing at Elsin Grey.
"She guessed that I meant to--to exchange a shot with Captain Butler?"he stammered.
"It appears," said I, "that Mr. Butler, with that delicacy for which heis notorious, stopped here on his way to the tavern. You may imagineLady Coleville could not let this matter proceed."
He gazed miserably at Elsin, passing his hand over his haggard face.Then, slowly turning to me: "My honor is engaged, Carus. What is bestnow? I am in your hands."
I laid my arm in his, quietly turning him and urging him to the stairs."Leave it to me," I whispered, taking the candle he held. "Go to thecoach and wait there. I will be with you in a moment."
The door of Elsin's chamber closed behind us. He descended the blackstairway, feeling his way by touch along the slim rail of thebanisters, and I waited there, lighting him from above until the frontdoors clashed behind him. Then I turned back to the closed door ofElsin's chamber and knocked loudly.
She flung it wide again, standing this time fully dressed, a gilt-edgedtricorn on her head, and in her hands riding-whip and gloves.
"I know what need be done," she said haughtily. "Through this meshedtangle of treachery and dishonor there leads but one clean path. That Ishall tread, Mr. Renault!"
"Let the words go," I said between tightening lips, "but give me thatpair of pistols, now!"
"For Sir Peter's use?"
"No, for mine."
"I shall not!"
"Oh, you would rather see me hanged, like Captain Hale?"
&n
bsp; She whitened where she stood, tugging at her gloves, teeth set in herlower lip.
"You shall neither fight nor hang," she said, her blue eyes fixed onspace, busy with her gloves the while--so busy that her whip dropped,and I picked it up.
There was a black loup-mask hanging from her girdle. When her gloveswere fitted to suit her she jerked the mask from the string and set itover her eyes.
"My whip?" she asked curtly.
I gave it.
"Now," she said, "your pistol-case lies hid beneath my bed-covers. Takeit, Mr. Renault, but it shall serve a purpose that neither you norWalter Butler dream of!"
I stared at her without a word. She opened the beaded purse at hergirdle, took from it a heaping handful of golden guineas, and droppedthem on her dresser, where they fell with a pleasant sound, rollingtogether in a shining heap. Then, looking through her mask at me, shefumbled at her throat, caught a thin golden chain, snapped it in two,and drew a tiny ivory miniature from her breast; and still lookingstraight into my eyes she dropped it face upward on the polished floor.It bore the likeness of Walter Butler. She set her spurred heel upon itand crushed it, grinding the fragments into splinters. Then she walkedby me, slowly, her eyes still on mine, the hem of her foot-mantleslightly lifted; and so, turning her head to watch me, she passed thedoor, closed it behind her, and was gone.
What the strange maid meant to do I did not know, but I knew what laybefore me now. First I flung aside the curtains of her bed, tore thefine linen from it, burrowing in downy depths, under pillow, quilt, andvalance, until my hands encountered something hard; and I dragged outthe pistol-case and snapped it open. The silver-chased weapons laythere in perfect order; under the drawer that held them was anotherdrawer containing finest priming-powder, shaped wads, ball, and a caseof flints.
So all was ready and in order. I closed the case and hurried up thestairway to my room, candle in hand. Ha! The wainscot cupboard I had socunningly devised was swinging wide. In it had been concealed thatblotted sheet rejected from the copy of my letter to hisExcellency--nothing more; yet that alone was quite enough to hang me,and I knew it as I stood there, my candle lighting an empty cupboard.
Suddenly terror laid an icy hand upon me. I shook to my knees,listening. Why had he not denounced me, then? And in the same instantthe answer came: _He_ was to profit by my disgrace; _he_ was to beaggrandized by my downfall. The drama he had prepared was to be set inscenery of his own choosing. His savant fingers grasped the tiller,steering me inexorably to my destruction.
Yet, as I stood there, teeth set, tearing my finery from me, flingingcoat one way, waistcoat another, and dressing me with blind haste inriding-clothes and boots, I felt that just a single chance was left tome with honor; and I seized the passes that Sir Henry had handed me forSir Peter and his lady, and stuffed them into my breast-pocket.
Gloved, booted, spurred, I caught up the case of pistols, ran down thestairs, flung open the door, and slammed it behind me.
Sir Peter stood waiting by the coach; and when he saw me with hispistol-case he said: "Well done, Carus! I had no mind to go hammeringat a friend's door to beg a brace of pistols at such an hour."
I placed the case after he had entered the coach. Dr. Carmody made roomfor me, but I shook my head.
"I ride," I said. "Wait but an instant more."
"Why do you ride?" asked Sir Peter, surprised.
"You will understand later," I said gaily. "Be patient, gentlemen;" andI ran for the stables. Sleepy hostlers in smalls and bare feet tumbledout in the glare of the coach-house lanthorn at my shout.
"The roan," I said briefly. "Saddle for your lives!"
The stars were no paler in the heavens as I stood there on the grass,waiting, yet dawn must be very near now; and, indeed, the birds' chorusbroke out as I set foot to stirrup, though still all was dark aroundme.
"Now, gentlemen," I said, spurring up to the carriage-door. I nodded tothe coachman, and we were off at last, I composed and keenly alert,cantering at Sir Peter's coach-wheels, perfectly aware that I wasriding for my liberty at last, or for a fall that meant the end of allfor me.
There was a chaise standing full in the light of the tavern windowswhen we clattered up--a horse at the horse-block, too, and more horsestied to the hitching-ring at the side-door.
At the sound of our wheels Mr. Jessop appeared, hastening from thecherry grove, and we exchanged salutes very gravely, I asking pardonfor the delay, he protesting at apology; saying that an encounter bystarlight was, after all, irregular, and that his principal desired towait for dawn if it did not inconvenience us too much.
Then, hat in hand, he asked Sir Peter's indulgence for a privateconference with me, and led me away by the arm into a sweet-smellinglane, all thick with honeysuckle and candleberry shrub.
"Carus," he said, "this is painfully irregular. We are proceeding aspassion dictates, not according to code. Mr. Butler has no choice butto accept, yet he is innocent of wrong intent, and has so informed me."
"Does he deny his marriage?" I asked.
"Yes, sir, most solemnly. The lady was his mistress, since discarded.He is quite guiltless of this affront to Sir Peter Coleville, anddesires nothing better than to say so."
"That concerns us all," I said seriously. "I am acting for Sir Peter,and I assume the responsibility without consulting him. Where is Mr.Butler?"
"In the tap-room parlor."
"Say to him that Sir Peter will receive him in the coffee-room," I saidquietly.
Jessop impulsively laid his honest hand upon my shoulder as we turnedtoward the tavern.
"Thank you, Carus," he said. "I am happy that I have to deal with youinstead of some fire-eating, suspicious bullhead sniffing for secretmischief where none lies hid."
"I hear that Lady Coleville is come to stop the duel at any cost," Iobserved, halting at the door. "May we not hope to avoid a distressingscene, Jessop?"
"We must," he answered, as I left him in the hallway and entered thecoffee-room where Sir Peter waited, seated alone, his feet to the emptyfireplace.
"Where is Lady Coleville?" he asked, as I stepped up. "She must notremain here, Carus."
"You are not to fight," I said, smiling.
"Not to fight!" he repeated, slowly rising, eyes ablaze.
"Pray trust me with your honor," I replied impatiently, opening thedoor to a servant's knock. And to the wide-eyed fellow I said: "Go andsay to Lady Coleville that Sir Peter is not to fight. Say to her----"
I stopped short. Lady Coleville appeared in an open doorway across thehall, her gaze passing my shoulder straight to Sir Peter, who stoodfacing her behind me.
"What pleasantry is this?" she asked, advancing, a pale smile stampedon her lovely face.
I made way. She stepped before me, walking straight to Sir Peter. Ifollowed, closing the door behind me.
"Have I ever, ever in all these years, counseled you to dishonor?" sheasked. "Then listen now. There is no honor in this thing you seek todo, but in it there lies a dreadful wrong to me."
"He offered insult to our kin--our guest. I can not choose but ask theonly reparation he can give," said Sir Peter steadily.
"And leave me to the chance of widowhood?"
Sir Peter whitened to a deathly hue; his distressed eyes traveled fromher to me; he made to speak, but no sound came.
"This is all useless," I said quietly, as a knock came at the door. Istepped back and opened it to Walter Butler.
When he saw me his dark eyes lit up with that yellow glare I knewalready. Then he turned, bowing to Lady Coleville and to Sir Peter,who, pale and astounded, stared at the man as though the fiend himselfstood there before him.
"Sir Peter," began his enemy, "I have thought----"
But I cut him short with a contemptuous laugh.
"Sir Peter," I said, "Mr. Butler is here to say that he is not weddedto his Tryon County mistress--that is all; and as he therefore has notoffended you, there is no reason for you to challenge him. Now, sir, Ipray you take Lady Coleville and
return. Go, in God's name, Sir Peter,for time spurs me, and I have business here to keep me!"
"Let Sir Peter remain," said Butler coldly. "My quarrel is not withhim, nor his with me."
"No," said I gaily, "it is with me, I think."
"Carus," cried Lady Coleville, "I forbid you! What senseless thing isthis you seek?"
"Pray calm yourself, madam," said Mr. Butler; "he stands in more dangerof the gallows than of me."
Sir Peter pushed forward. I caught his arm, forcing him aside, but hestruggled, saying: "Did you not hear the man? Let me go, Carus; do youthink such an insult to you can pass me like a puff of sea-wind?"
"It strikes me first," I said. "It is to me that Mr. Butler answers."
"No, gentlemen, to _me!_" said a low voice behind us--the voice of ElsinGrey.
Amazed, we turned, passion still marring our white faces. Calm,bright-eyed, a smile that I had never seen imprinted on her closedlips, she walked to the table, unlocked the case of pistols, liftedthem, and laid them there in the yellow lamplight.
"Elsin! Elsin!" stammered Lady Coleville; "have you, too, gone mad?"
"This is _my_ quarrel," she said, turning on me so fiercely that Istepped back. "If any shot is fired in deference to me, _I_ fire it;if any bullet is sped to defend my honor, _I_ speed it, gentlemen.Why"--and she turned like a flash upon Sir Peter--"why do you assume tointerfere in this? Is not an honest man's duty to his own wife first?Small honor you do yourself or her!--scant love must you bear her torisk your life to chance in a quarrel that concerns not you!"
Astounded and dumb, we stood there as though rooted to the floor.
She looked at Butler and laughed; picked up a pistol, loaded it withincredible deftness, laid it on the table, and began loading the other.
"Elsin! Elsin!" cried Lady Coleville, catching her by the waist, "whatis this wild freak of yours? Have you all gone mad to-night?"
"You shake my hand and spill the powder," said the Hon. Miss Grey,smiling.
"Elsin," murmured Walter Butler, "has this fellow Renault poisoned youagainst me?"
"Why, no, sir. You are married to a wife and dare to court me! Therelies the poison, Mr. Butler!"
"Hush, Elsin!" murmured Lady Coleville. "It was a mistake, dear. Mr.Butler is not married to the--the lady--to anybody. He swears it!"
"Not wedded?" She stared, then turned scarlet to her hair. And WalterButler, I think, mistook the cause and meaning of that crimson shame,for he smiled, and drawing a paper from his coat, spread it to SirPeter's eyes.
"I spoke of the gallows, Sir Peter, and you felt yourself once moreaffronted. Yet, if you will glance at this----"
"What is it?" asked Sir Peter, looking him in the eye.
"Treason, Sir Peter--a letter--part of one--to the rebel Washington,written by a spy!"
"A lie! _I_ wrote it!" said the Hon. Miss Grey.
Walter Butler turned to her, amazed, doubting his ears.
"A jest," she continued carelessly, "to amuse Mr. Renault."
"Amuse _him_! It is in his own hand!" stammered Butler.
"Apparently. But I wrote it, imitating his hand to plague him. It isindifferently done," she added, with a shrug. "I hid it in the cupboardhe uses for his love-letters. How came it in your fingers, Mr. Butler?"
In blank astonishment he stood there, the letter half extended, hiseyes almost starting from his face. Slowly she moved forward,confronting him, insolent eyes meeting his; and, ere he could guesswhat she purposed, she had snatched the blotted fragment from him andcrushed it in her hand, always eying him until he crimsoned in thefocus of her white contempt.
"Go!" she said. Her low voice was passionless.
He turned his burning eyes from her to Lady Coleville, to Sir Peter,then bent his gaze on me. What he divined in my face I know not, butthe flame leaped in his eyes, and that ghastly smile stretched themuscles of his visage.
"My zeal, it seems, has placed me at a sorry disadvantage," he said."Error piled on error growing from a most unhappy misconstruction of mypurposes has changed faith to suspicion, amity to coldness. I know notwhat to say to clear myself--" He turned his melancholy face to Elsin;all anger had faded from it, and only deepest sadness shadowed the palebrow. "I ventured to believe, in days gone by, that my devotion was notutterly displeasing--that perhaps the excesses of a stormy andimpetuous youth might be condoned in the humble devotion of an honestpassion----"
The silence was intense. He turned dramatically to Sir Peter, hiswell-shaped hand opening in graceful salute as he bowed.
"I ask you, sir, to lend a gentle judgment till I clear myself. And ofyour lady, I humbly beg that mercy also." Again he bowed profoundly,hand on hilt, a perfect figure of faultless courtesy, graceful,composed, proudly enduring, proudly subduing pride.
Then he slowly raised his dark head and looked at me. "Mr. Renault," hesaid, "it is my misfortune that our paths have crossed three times. Itrust they cross no more, but may run hereafter in pleasant parallel. Iwas hasty, I was wrong to judge you by what you said concerning theOneidas. I am impatient, over-sensitive, quick to fire at what I deeman insult to my King. I serve him as my hot blood dictates--and,burning with resentment that you should dare imperil my design, Isearched your chamber to destroy the letter you had threatened warningthe Oneidas of their coming punishment. How can you blame me if I tookthis lady's playful jest for something else?"
"I do not blame you, Captain Butler," I said disdainfully.
"Then may we not resume an intercourse as entertaining as it was fullof profit to myself?"
"Time heals--but Time must not be spurred too hard," I answered,watching him.
His stealthy eyes dropped as he inclined his head in acquiescence.
Then Sir Peter spoke, frankly, impetuously, his good heart dictatingever to his reason; and what he said was amiable and kind, standingthere, his sweet lady's arm resting on his own. And she, too, spokegraciously but gravely, with a gentle admonition trailing at the end.
But when he turned to Elsin Grey, she softened nothing, and her gesturecommitted him to silence while she spoke: "End now what you have saidso well, nor add one word to that delicate pyramid of eloquence whichyou have raised so high to your own honor, Captain Butler. I amslow-witted and must ask advice from that physician, Time, whom Mr.Renault, too, has called in council."
"Am I, then, banished?" he asked below his breath.
"Ask yourself, Mr. Butler. And if you find no reply, then I shallanswer you."
All eyes were on her. What magic metamorphosis had made this woman froma child in a single night! Where had vanished that vague roundness ofcheek and chin in this drawn beauty of maturity? that untroubled eye,that indecision of caprice, that charming restlessness, that childishconfidence in others, accepting as a creed what grave lips uttered as aguidance to the lesser years that rested lightly on her?
And Walter Butler, too, had noted some of this, perplexed at thereserve, the calm self-confidence, the unimagined strength and coldcomposure which he had once swayed by his passion, as a fair andclean-stemmed sapling tosses in tempests that uproot maturer growth.
His furtive, unconvinced eyes sought the floor as he took his leavewith every ceremony due himself and us. Dawn already whitened the east.He mounted by the tavern window, and I saw him against the pallid skyin silhouette, riding slowly toward the city, Jessop beside him, andtheir horses' manes whipping the rising sea-wind from the west.
"What a nightmare this has been!" whispered Lady Coleville, herhusband's hands imprisoned in her own. And to Elsin: "Child! whatscenes have we dragged you through! Heaven forgive us!--for you havelearned a sorry wisdom here concerning men!"
"I have learned," she said steadily, "more than you think, madam. Willyou forgive me if I ask a word alone with Mr. Renault?"
"Not here, child. Look! Day comes creeping on us yonder in the hills.Come home before you have your talk with Carus. You may ride with himif you desire, but follow us."
Sir Peter turned to gather up his pistols; but El
sin laid her hand onthem, saying that I would care for everything.
"Sure, she means to have her way with us as well as with WalterButler," he said humorously. "Come, sweetheart, leave them to this newwisdom Elsin found along the road somewhere between the Coq d'Or andWall Street. They may be wiser than they seem; they could not well beless wise than they are."
The set smile on Elsin's lips changed nothing as Sir Peter led hislady, all reluctant, from the coffee-room, where the sunken candlesflickered in the pallid light of morning.
From the front windows we saw the coach drive up, and Lady Coleville,looking back in protest, enter; and after her Sir Peter, and Dr.Carmody with his cases.
"Come to the door and make as though we meant to mount and follow," shesaid quietly. "Here, take these pistols. Raise the pan and lower thehammers. They are loaded. Thrust them somewhere--beneath your coat. Nowfollow me."
I obeyed in silence. As we came out of the tavern-door Lady Colevillenodded, and her coach moved off, passing our horses, which the hostlerswere bringing round.
I put Elsin up, then swung astride my roan, following her out into theroad--a rod or two only ere she wheeled into the honeysuckle lane,reining in so that I came abreast of her.
"Now ride!" she said in an unsteady voice. "I know the man you have todeal with. There is no mercy in him, I tell you, and no safety now foryou until you make the rebel lines."
"I know it," I said; "but what of you?"
"What of me?" She laughed a bitter laugh, striking her horse so that hebounded forward down the sandy lane, I abreast of her, stride forstride. "What of me? Why, I lied to him, that is all, Mr. Renault. _Andhe knew it!_"
"Is that all?" I asked.
"No, not all. _He_ told the truth to you and to Sir Peter. And _I_ knewit."
"In what did he tell the truth?"
"In what he said about--his mistress." Her face crimsoned, but she heldher head steady and high, nor faltered at the word.
"How is it that you know?"
"How does a woman know? Tell me and I'll confess it. I know because awoman knows such things. Let it rest there--a matter scarcely fittedfor discussion between a maid and a man--though I am being soundlyschooled, God wot, in every branch of infamy."
"Then turn here," I said, reining in, "and ride no more with what mencall a spy."
But she galloped on, head set, flushed and expressionless, and Ispurred to overtake her.
"Turn back!" I said hoarsely. "It may go hard with you if I am taken atthe lines!"
"Those passes that Sir Henry gave you--you have them?"
"Yes."
"For Sir Peter and his lady?"
"So they are made out."
"Do they know you at Kingsbridge?"
"Yes. The Fifty-fourth guard it."
"Then how can you hope to pass?"
"I shall pass one way or another," I said between my teeth.
She drew from her breast a crumpled paper, unfolded it, and passed itto me, galloping beside me all the while. I scanned it carefully; itwas a pass signed by Sir Henry Clinton, permitting her and me to passthe lines, and dated that very night.
"How in Heaven's name did you secure this paper in the last nick oftime?" I cried, astounded.
"I knew you needed it--from what you said there in my chamber. Do youremember that Sir Henry left the Fort for a council? It is not far toQueen Street; and when I left you I mounted and galloped thither."
"But--but what excuse----"
"Ask me not, Carus," she said impatiently, while a new color flowedthrough cheek and temple. "Sir Henry first denied me, then he began tolaugh; and I--I galloped here with the ink all wet upon the pass.Whither leads this lane?"
"To the Kingsbridge road."
"Would they stop and search us if dissatisfied?"
"I think not."
"Well, I shall take no risk," she said, snatching the blotted paperfrom her bosom--the paper she had taken from Walter Butler, and whichwas written in my hand. "Hide it under a stone in the hedgerow, andplace the passes that you had for Sir Peter with it," she said, drawingbridle and looking back.
I dismounted, turned up a great stone, thrust the papers under, thendropped it to its immemorial bed once more.
"Quick!" she whispered. "I heard a horse's iron-shod foot striking apebble."
"Behind us?"
"Yes. Now gallop!"
Our horses plunged on again, fretting at the curb. She rode a mare asblack as a crow save for three silvery fetlocks, and my roan's stridedistressed her nothing. Into the Kingsbridge road we plunged in thewhite river-mist that walled the hedges from our view, and there, as wegalloped through the sand, far behind us I thought to hear a sound likemetal clipping stone.
"You shall come no farther," I said. "You can not be found in companywith me. Turn south, and strike the Greenwich road."
"Too late," she said calmly. "You forget I compromised myself with thatsame pass you carry."
"Why in God's name did you include yourself in it?" I asked.
"Because the pass was denied me until I asked it for us both."
"You mean----"
"I mean that I lied again to Sir Henry Clinton, Mr. Renault. Spare menow."
Amazed, comprehending nothing, I fell silent for a space, then turnedto scan her face, but read nothing in its immobility.
"Why did you do all this for me, a spy?" I asked.
"For that reason," she answered sharply--"lest the disgrace bespattermy kinsman, Sir Peter, and his sweet lady."
"But--what will be said when you return alone and I am gone?"
"Nothing, for I do not return."
"You--you----"
"I ask you to spare me. Once the lines are passed there is no dangerthat disgrace shall fall on any one--not even on you and me."
"But how--what will folk say----"
"They'll say we fled together to be wedded!" she cried, exasperated."If you will force me, learn then that I made excuse and got my passfor that! I told Sir Henry that I loved you and that I was plighted toWalter Butler. And Sir Henry, hating Mr. Butler, laughed until he couldnot see for the tears, and scratched me off my pass for Gretna Green,with his choicest blessing on the lie I offered in return! There, sir,is what I have done. I said I loved you, and I lied. I shall go withyou, then ask a flag of the rebels to pass me on to Canada. And so yousee, Mr. Renault, that no disgrace can fall on me or mine through anyinfamy, however black, that others must account for!"
And she drew her sun-mask from her belt and put it on.
Her wit, her most amazing resource, her anger, so amazed me that I rodeon, dazed, swaying in the stride of the tireless gallop. Then in aflash, alert once more, I saw ahead the mist rising from the Harlem,the mill on the left, with its empty windows and the two poplar-treesbeside it, the stone piers and wooden railing of the bridge, thesentinels on guard, already faced our way, watching our swift approach.
As we drew bridle in a whirlwind of sand the guard came tumbling out atthe post's loud bawling, and the officer of the guard followed,sauntering up to our hard-breathing horses and peering up into ourfaces.
"Enderly!" I exclaimed.
"Well, what the devil, Carus--" he began, then bit his words in two andbowed to the masked lady, perplexed eyes traveling from her to me andback again. When I held out the pass for his inspection, he took it,scrutinizing it gravely, nodded, and strolled back to the mill.
"Hurry, Enderly!" I called after him.
He struck a smarter gait, but to me it seemed a year ere he reappearedwith a pass viseed, and handed it to me.
"Have a care," he said; "the country beyond swarms with cowboys andskinners, and the rebel horse ride everywhere unchecked. They've anoutpost at Valentine's, and riflemen along the Bronx----"
At that instant a far sound came to my ears, distant still on the roadbehind us. It was the galloping of horses. Elsin Grey leaped from hersaddle, lifting her mask and smiling sweetly down at Captain Enderly.
"It's a sharp run to Gretna Green," she said.
"If you can detain thegentleman who follows us we will not forget the service, CaptainEnderly!"
"By Heaven!" he exclaimed, his perplexed face clearing into grinningcomprehension. And to the sentries: "Fall back there, lads! Free wayfor'ard!" he cried. "Now, Carus! Madam, your most obedient!"
The steady thud of galloping horses sounded nearer behind us. I turned,expecting to see the horsemen, but they were still screened by thehill.
"Luck to you!" muttered Enderly, as we swung into a canter, our horses'hoofs drumming thunder on the quivering planks that jumped beneath usas we spurred to a gallop. Ah! They were shouting now, behind us! They,too, had heard the echoing tattoo we beat across the bridge.
"Pray God that young man holds them!" she whispered, pale face turned."There they are! They spy us now! They are riding at the bridge! Mercyon us! the soldiers have a horse by the bit, forcing him back. Theyhave stopped Mr. Butler. _Now_, Carus!"
Into the sand once more we plunged, riding at a sheer run through thesemidarkness of the forest that closed in everywhere; on, on, the windwhistling in our teeth, her hair blowing, and her gilt-laced hat flyingfrom the silken cord that held it to her shoulder. How grandly herblack mare bore her--the slight, pale-faced figure sitting the saddlewith such perfect grace and poise!
The road swung to the east, ascending in long spirals. Then through thetrees I caught the glimmer of water--the Bronx River--and beyond I sawa stubble-field all rosy in the first rays of the rising sun.
The ascent was steeper now. Our horses slackened to a canter, to atrot, then to a walk as the road rose upward, set with boulders andloose stones.
I had just turned to caution my companion, and was pointing ahead to adeep washout which left but a narrow path between two jutting boulders,when, without the slightest sound, from the shadow of these same rockssprang two men, long brown rifles leveled. And in silence we drewbridle at the voiceless order from the muzzles of those twin barrelsbearing upon us without a tremor.
From the shadow ... sprang two men, long brown riflesleveled.]
An instant of suspense; the rifle of the shorter fellow swept fromElsin Grey to me; and I, menaced by both weapons, sat on my heavilybreathing horse, whose wise head and questioning ears reconnoiteredthese strange people who checked us at the rocky summit of the hill.For they were strange, silent folk, clothed in doeskin from neck toankle, and alike as two peas in their caped hunting-shirts, belted inwith scarlet wampum, and the fringe falling in soft cascades fromshoulder to cuff, from hip to ankle, following the laced seams.
My roan had become nervous, shaking his head and backing, and Elsin'srestive mare began sidling across their line of fire.
"Rein in, madam!" came a warning voice--"and you, sir! Stand fastthere! Now, young man, from which party do you come?"
"From the lower," I answered cheerfully, "and happy to be clear ofthem."
"And with which party do you foregather, my gay cock o' the woods?"
"With the upper party, friend."
"Friend!" sneered the taller fellow, lowering his rifle and casting itinto the hollow of his left arm. "It strikes me that you are somewhatsudden with your affections--" He came sauntering forward, a giant inhis soft, clinging buckskins, talking all the while in an irritablevoice: "Friend? Maybe, and maybe not," he grumbled; "all eggs don'thatch into dickey-birds, nor do all rattlers beat the long roll." Helaid a sudden hand on my bridle, looking up at me with swaggeringimpudence, which instantly changed into amazed recognition.
"Gad-a-mercy!" he cried, delighted; "is it you, Mr. Renault?"
"It surely is," I said, drawing a long breath of relief to find inthese same forest-runners my two drovers, Mount and the little Weasel.
"How far is it to the lines, friend Mount?"
"Not far, not very far, Mr. Renault," he said. "There should be a postof Jersey militia this side o' Valentine's, and we're like to see abrace of Sheldon's dragoons at any moment. Lord, sir, but I'm contentedto see you, for I was loath to leave you in York, and Walter Butlerthere untethered, ranging the streets, free as a panther on a sunsetcliff!"
The Weasel, rifle at a peaceful trail, came trotting up beside hisgiant comrade, standing on tiptoe to link arms with him, his solemnowl-like eyes roaming from Elsin Grey to me.
I named them to Elsin. She regarded them listlessly from her saddle,and they removed their round skull-caps of silver moleskin and bowed toher.
"I never thought to be so willing to meet rebel riflemen," she said,patting her horse's mane and glancing at me.
"Lord, Cade!" whispered Mount to his companion, "he's stolen a Torymaid from under their very noses! Make thy finest bow, man, for thecredit o' Morgan's Men!"
And again the strange pair bowed low, caps in hand, the Weasel withquiet, quaint dignity, Mount with his elaborate rustic swagger, and aflourish peculiar to the forest-runner, gay, reckless, yet withalrespectful.
A faint smile touched her eyes as she inclined her proud little head.Mount looked up at me. I nodded; and the two riflemen wheeled in theirtracks and trotted forward, Mount leading, and his solemn littlecomrade following at heel, close as a hound. When they had disappearedover the hill's rocky summit our horses moved forward at a walk,breasting the crest, then slowly descended the northern slope, pickingtheir way among the loosened slate and pebbles.
And now for the first time came to me a delicious thrill of exaltationin my new-found liberty. Free at last of that prison city. Free at lastto look all men between the eyes. Free to bear arms, and use them, too,under a flag I had not seen in four long years save as they brought inour captured colors--a ragged, blood-blackened rag or two to matchthose silken standards lost at Bennington and Saratoga.
I looked up into the cloudless sky, I looked around me. I saw the talltrees tinted by the sun, I felt a free wind blowing from that wildnorth I loved so well.
I drew my lungs full. I opened wide my arms, easing each crampedmuscle. I stretched my legs to the stirrup's length in sweetestcontent.
Down through a fragrant birch-grown road, smelling of fern andwintergreen and sassafras, we moved, the cool tinkle of moss-chokedwatercourses ever in our ears, mingling with melodies of woodlandbirds--shy, freedom-loving birds that came not with the robins to thecity. Ah, I knew these birds, being country-bred--knew them one andall--the gray hermit, holy chorister of hymn divine, the white-throat,sweetly repeating his allegiance to his motherland of Canada, the greatscarlet-tufted cock that drums on the bark in stillest depths, thelonely little creeping-birds that whimper up and down the trunks offorest trees, and the black-capped chickadee that fears not man, butcities--all these I listened to, and knew and loved as guerdons of thatfreedom which I had so long craved, and craved in vain.
And now I had it; it was mine! I tasted it, I embraced it with widearms, I breathed it. And far away I heard the woodland hermits singingof freedom, and of the sweetness of it, and of the mercies of the MostHigh.
Thrilled with happiness, I glanced at Elsin Grey where she rode a paceor so ahead of me, her fair head bent, her face composed but colorlessas the lace drooping from her stock. The fatigue of a sleepless nightwas telling on her, though as yet the reaction of the strain had notaffected me one whit.
She raised her head as I forced my horse forward to her side. "What isit, Mr. Renault?" she asked coldly.
"I'm sorry you are fatigued, Elsin----"
"I am not fatigued."
"What! after all you have done for me----"
"I have done nothing for _you_, Mr. Renault."
"Nothing?--when I owe you everything that----"
"You owe me nothing that I care to accept."
"My thanks----"
"I tell you you owe me nothing. Let it rest so!"
Her unfriendly eyes warned me to silence, but I said bluntly:
"That Mr. Cunningham is not this moment fiddling with my neck, I owe toyou. I offer my thanks, and I remain at your service. That is all."
"Do you think," she answered quietly, "that a rebel hanged couldinterest m
e unless that hanging smirched my kin?"
"Elsin! Elsin!" I said, "is there not bitterness enough in the worldbut you and I must turn our friendship into hate?"
"What do you care whether it turn to hate or--love?" She laughed, butthere was no mirth in her eyes. "You are free; you have done your duty;your brother rebels will reward you. What further have I to do withyou, Mr. Renault? You have used me, you have used my kin, my friends.Not that I blame you--nay, Mr. Renault, I admire, I applaud, Iunderstand more than you think. I even count him brave who can go outas you have done, scornful of life, pitiless of friendships formed,reckless of pleasure, of what men call their code of honor; indifferentto the shameful death that hovers like a shadow, and the scorn of all,even of friends--for a spy has no friends, if discovered. All this,sir, I comprehend, spite of my few years which once--when we werefriends--you in your older wisdom found amusing." She turned sharplyaway, brushing her eyelashes with gloved fingers.
Presently she looked straight ahead again, a set smile on her tightlips.
"The puppets in New York danced to the tune you whistled," she said,"and because you danced, too, they never understood that you weremaster of the show. Oh, we all enjoyed the dance, sir--I, too, servingyour designs as all served. Now you have done with us, and it remainsfor us to make our exits as gracefully as may be."
She made a little salute with her riding-whip--gracious, quite free ofmockery.
"The fortune of war, Mr. Renault," she said. "Salute to the conqueror!"
"Only a gallant enemy admits as much," I answered, flushing.
"Mr. Renault, am I your enemy?"
"Elsin, I fear you are."
"Why? Because you waked me from my dream?"
"What dream? That nightmare tenanted by Walter Butler that haunted you?Is it not fortunate that you awoke in time, even if you had loved him?But you never did!"
"No, I never loved him. But that was not the dream you waked me from."
"More than that, child, you do not know what love means. How should youknow? Why, even I do not know, and I am twenty-three."
"Once," she said, smiling, "I told you that there is no happiness inlove. It is the truth, Mr. Renault; there is no joy in it. That much Iknow of love. Now, sir, as you admit you know nothing of it, you cannot contradict me, can you?"
She smiled gaily, leaning forward in her saddle, stroking her horse'smane.
"No, I am not your enemy," she continued. "There is enough of war inthe world, is there not, Mr. Renault? And I shall soon be on my way toCanada. Were I your enemy, how impotent am I to compass yourdestruction--impotent as a love-sick maid who chooses as her gallant agentleman most agreeable, gently bred, faultless in conduct andaddress, upon whose highly polished presence she gazes, seeking depth,and finds but her own silly face mirrored on the surface."
She turned from me and raised her head, gazing up through interlacingbranches into the blue above.
"Ah, we must be friends, Carus," she said wearily; "we have cost eachother too dear."
"I have cost you dear enough," I muttered.
"Not too dear for all you have taught me."
"What have I taught you?"
"To know a dream from the reality," she said listlessly.
"Better you should learn from me than from Walter Butler," I saidbluntly.
"From him! Why, he taught me nothing. I fell in love again--really inlove--for an hour or two--spite of the lesson he could not teach me. Itell you he taught me nothing--not even to distrust the vows of men. Ifit was a wrong he dared to meditate, it touches not me, Carus--touchesme no more than his dishonoring hand, which he never dared to lay uponme."
"What do you mean?" I asked, troubled. "Have you taken a brief fancy toanother? Do you imagine that you are in love again? What is it that youmean, Elsin?"
"Mean? God knows. I am tired to the soul, Carus. I have no prideleft--not a shred--nothing of resentment. I fancy I love--yes--and themad fancy drags me on, trailing pride, shame, and becoming modestyafter me in the dust." She laughed, flinging her arm out in animpatient gesture: "What is this war to me, Carus, save as it concernshim? In Canada we wag our heads and talk of rebels; here we speak ofred-coats and patriots; and it's all one to me, Carus, so that nodishonor touches the man I love or my own Canada. Your country here isnothing to me except for the sake of this one man."
She turned toward me from her saddle.
"You may be right, you rebels," she said. "If aught threatened Canada,no loyalty to a King whom I have never seen could stir me to forsake myown people. That is why I am so bitter, I think; not because SirFrederick Haldimand is kin to me, but because your people dared tostorm Quebec."
"Those who marched thither march no more," I said gravely.
"Then let it be peace betwixt us. My enmity stops at the grave--andthey march no more, as you say."
"Do you give me your friendship again, Elsin?"
She raised her eyes and looked at me steadily.
"It was yours before you asked me, Carus. It has always been yours. Ithas never faltered for one moment even when I said the things that ahurt pride forced from me." She shook her head slowly, reining in. I,too, drew bridle.
"The happiest moment of my life was when I knew that I had been theinstrument to unlock for you the door of safety," she said, andstripped the glove from her white fingers. "Kiss my hand and thank me,Carus. It is all I ask of friendship."
Her hand lay at my lips, pressed gently for an instant, then fell toher side.
"Dear, dear Elsin!" I cried, catching her hand in both of mine again,crushing it to my lips.
"Don't, Carus," she said tremulously. "If you--if you do that--youmight--you might conceive a--a regard for me."
"Lord, child!" I exclaimed, "you but this moment confessed your fancyfor a man of whose very name and quality I stand in ignorance!"
She drew her hand away, laughing, a tenderness in her eyes I never hadsurprised there before.
"Silly," she said, "you know how inconstant I can be; you must neveragain caress me as you did--that first evening--do you remember? If wedo that--if I suffer you to kiss me, maybe we both might find ourselvesat love's mercy."
"You mean we might really be in love?" I asked curiously.
"I do not know. Do you think so?"
I laughed gaily, bending to search her eyes.
"What is love, Elsin? Truly, I do not know, having never loved, as youmean. Sir Peter wishes it; and here we are, with all the credit ofGretna Green but none of the happiness. Elsin, listen to me. Let usstrive to fall in love; shall we? And the devil take your new gallant!"
"If you desire it----"
"Why not? It would please all, would it not?"
"But, Carus, we must first please one another----"
"Let us try, Elsin. I have dreamed of a woman--not like you, butstatelier, more mature, and of more experience, but I never saw such awoman; and truly I never before saw so promising a maid as you. Surelywe might teach one another to love--if you are not too young----"
"I do not think I am," she said faintly.
"Then let us try. Who knows but you may grow into that ideal I cherish?I shall attend you constantly, pay court to you, take counsel with you,defer to you in all things----"
"But I shall be gone northward with the flag, Carus."
"A flag may not start for a week."
"But when it does?"
"By that time," said I, "we will be convinced in one fashion oranother."
"Maybe one of us will take fire slowly."
"Let us try it, anyhow," I insisted.
She bent her head, riding in silence for a while.
"Sweetheart," I said, "are you hungry?"
"Oh!" she cried, crimson-cheeked, "have you begun already? And am I--amI to say that, too?"
"Not unless you--you want to."
"I dare not, Carus."
"It is not hard," I said; "it slipped from my lips, following mythoughts. Truly, Elsin, I love you dearly--see how easily I say it! Ilove you in o
ne kind of way already. One of these days, before we knowwhat we're doing, we'll be married, and Sir Peter will be the happiestman in New York."
"Sir Peter! Sir Peter!" she repeated impatiently; a frown gathered onher brow. She swung toward me, leaning from her saddle, faceoutstretched.
"Carus," she said, "kiss me! Now do it again, on the lips. Now again!There! Now that you do it of your own accord you are advanced so far.Oh, this is dreadful, dreadful! We have but a week, and we are thatbackward in love that I must command you to kiss me! Where shall we bethis day week--how far advanced, if you think only of courting me toplease Sir Peter?"
"Elsin," I said, after a moment's deliberation, "I'm ready to kiss youagain."
"For Sir Peter's sake?"
"Partly."
"No, sir!" she said, turning her head; "that advances us nothing."
After a silence I said again:
"Elsin!"
"Yes, Carus."
"I'm ready."
"For Sir Peter's sake?"
"No, for my own."
"Ah," she said gaily, turning a bright face to me, "we are advancing!Now, it is best that I refuse you--unless you force me and take whatyou desire. I accord no more--nothing more from this moment--until Igive myself! and I give not that, either, until you take it!" sheadded, and cast her horse forward at a gallop, I after her, leaningwide from my saddle, until our horses closed in, bounding on in perfectstride together. Now was my chance.
"Carus! I beg of you--" Her voice was stifled, for I had put my armaround her neck and pressed her half-opened lips to mine. "You advancetoo quickly!" she said, flushed and furious. "Do you think to win amaid by mauling whether she will or no? I took no pleasure in thatkiss, and it is a shame when both are not made happy. Besides, you hurtme with your roughness. I pray you keep your distance!"
I did so, perplexed, and a trifle sulky, and for a while we jogged onin silence.
Suddenly she reined in, turning her face over her shoulder.
"Look, Carus," she whispered, "there are horsemen coming!"
A moment later a Continental dragoon trotted into sight around thecurve of the road, then another and another.
We were within the lines at last.