CHAPTER XX.
JOSCELYN'S PERIL.
"First time he kissed me, he but only kissed The fingers of this hand wherewith I write; And, ever since, it grew more clean and white, Slow to world greetings, quick with its 'O list!' When the angels speak." --MRS. BROWNING.
Thus the months had come and gone, and come again, until three years hadpassed since Richard's company marched away that winter day to jointheir comrades at Valley Forge. Three years of warfare, and victory yetfaltered to remain with either standard, but wavered like a fickle womanfrom side to side. And Joscelyn held to her allegiance, wearing herscarlet bodice in open rejoicing at news of an English victory, anddecking herself in sombre mourning when tidings of the American triumphat King's Mountain thrilled the country with an awakened hope. And inthese habiliments she walked the streets, or sat upon her balcony, thatnone might be in doubt as to her feelings.
"Joscelyn Cheshire be as good as a war barometer," said MistressStrudwick; "one has but to look at her to know whether to rejoice or tosorrow."
Vainly her mother argued with the girl, showing the danger she ran ofdrawing upon them both the enmity of the community.
"We are but two lone women, and what could we do against a mob? You gotoo far in this matter, my daughter. An you alter not your behaviour, weshall be driven from the town, or else have our house burned over ourheads. Only yesterday Sally Ruffin was telling your Aunt Clevering ofsome threats she had heard concerning you."
But Joscelyn shrugged her shoulders. "They will not harm you, mother;you are too much of their party creed. And as for me, I fear themnot; they will do naught more serious than to tear down my royalpicture-gallery from the porch, and break a few more window-panes."
And truly martial events were crowding so fast upon each other that thecommunity had no time to resent the caprices of a girl. All interest wasnow centred in the south. Greene had superseded Gates; Cowpens had beenfought and Tarleton sent in rout to Cornwallis, who started in hot hasteto chastise the victors and recover his captured troopers. But Morganthrew his battalion over the Catawba; Greene took entire command, andthen begun that marvellous retreat, every step of which was as anAmerican victory. The pursuit was close behind. The whole country heldits breath at the spectacle of two great armies vying against each otheron almost parallel roads for the far-off fords of the Dan. Twenty-five,even thirty miles a day they tramped it over roads deep in mire thatheld them back as with a fiendish purpose. It was a spectacle to stirone's blood, no matter on which side the sympathies,--this Titanicstruggle, this heroic race. The rear-guard of the pursued, and the vanof the pursuer, often bivouacked in sight of each other's watch-fires.Petty strife was at an end; the great principles of war alone held sway,and it were hard to say in which camp there was more of resoluteendeavour.
The flooding rains detained Cornwallis at the Catawba, and yet again atthe Yadkin, giving the Americans somewhat of advantage, so that JoscelynCheshire said in her mocking way, that the "weather was supplying thedeficiencies of nature and making a great general out of NathanielGreene."
"Rather is God aiding a righteous cause," Aunt Clevering retorted.
Hillsboro' was in a fever of excitement during those days, knowing thatsomewhere beyond the mountains that skirted her on the west, thesearmies, like mighty leviathans, were writhing on their courses. The townlay almost in the path of both, and each day was full of rumours andcontradictions. The country people, both Whigs and Tories, crowded into learn more speedily the news. The streets were thronged each daywith anxious men and women, asking each other questions and exchangingsurmises. And every day Joscelyn rode her horse from the bridge thatspanned the Eno on the western edge of the town to the clump of boulderscalled the "Hen and Chickens," which cropped out of a common that layhigh to the eastward. And always she wore in her hat, with jaunty grace,a cockade of scarlet ribbon; and Tories bowed low as she passed, andWhigs scowled and shrugged their shoulders, marvelling at her daring.
But at last the news came that the race was done; Greene had crossedthe Dan to the safety of Virginia, and a union with the reenforcementshastily spared him from the northern division, and Cornwallis wasbaffled. Disappointed, he turned southward once more, and one Februaryday the vanguard rode haughtily into Hillsboro', and ere night thesloping commons, flanking the town to the east and northeast, werewhite with a tent city swarming with the soldiers of the king.
In the general excitement Betty ran across the street and, twistingJoscelyn's apron-string the while, asked, "Do you think Eus--that is,that you will have any friends on Cornwallis's staff?"
"I am quite sure you will have one," answered Joscelyn, with a laughingaccent on the second pronoun. "Mary is already in the parlour wanting meto go with her and hunt him; what message shall I carry that my welcomemay be sure?"
"Oh, none!" hastily answered Betty. Then added, with a shy laugh, "Ofcourse I shall have to see him and thank him for his efforts inRichard's behalf."
"Methinks you will have to go through that disagreeable ordeal. When Isee him I shall casually mention that I have asked you to be here atfive this afternoon."
But Eustace did not wait so long to hear Betty's thanks. He laid nostress on his services save as a pretext to see her, and when his dutiesat headquarters were over he boldly presented himself at MistressClevering's door; and Betty, blushing and palpitating, came down to meethim; and seeing her thus, his heart surrendered itself anew. But hermother, following close in her wake, gave him no chance to say thethings he longed.
"We deeply appreciate your efforts for my son, Master Singleton," shesaid, sitting stiffly on the extreme edge of her chair, as if ready torise on the instant.
"I have called this morning, madam, not to receive your thanks, for I donot deserve them; but to say how sorry I was not to do more for him andfor you, and also to express my sincere regrets over his death."
"Your regrets are misplaced; my son still lives."
He stood up, amazed; and the lady also rose as though to bid him adieu."Still alive? You astound me, madam; I saw his death record."
"He escaped instead of dying."
"It sounds like a miracle; but I am glad of it." He turned to Betty, buther mother had not resumed her seat, and so he, too, stood in anawkward hesitation. But the girl put out her hands with an impulsivegesture, and he gathered them both close in his.
"It was good of you--so good to go to that horrible ship!"
"I would have gone to the ends of the world to serve you. Your simplestwish would be my law, and I would count myself well paid with a smile orone gentle word." He had forgotten her mother standing there like asphinx; and Betty's face went suddenly pale, and then as suddenlyreddened and dimpled, for he bent down and kissed each of her handslingeringly.
"Master Singleton!" The harsh tones recalled him to himself. He turnedto the older woman. "My daughter joins with me in expressing ourgratitude. Since your time must be short, we will no longer detain you."
Of course he went, and Betty fled to Joscelyn for comfort, for hermother had said sternly:--
"We have done our duty, let the matter end here; and let me sayfurthermore, that to be grateful one need not blush and dimple while anarch-enemy of the country kisses one's hand."
And Betty had almost choked with confusion, and while crossing thestreet had looked at her hands with a sense of tenderness that was new.
"Oh, Joscelyn, I am so miserable and yet so happy!" And Joscelyn toldher all the sweet things Eustace had said about her at the camp, andsent her home as red and tremulous as a rose in the sun.
There was joy among the Loyalists over the coming of the Redcoats, andconsternation among those whose relatives were with Greene. Cornwallisestablished his headquarters at the inn on King Street, using theone-roomed building opposite as his office. Here he set up the royalstandard, and issued a proclamation to the Tories of the vicinity tocome to his aid. He looked for a general up-rising in his favour, but helooked in vain.
The country folk rode into town to learn the latestnews, or brought their wives and daughters to the commander's levees;but most of them rode home again, unconvinced of the permanency of hislordship's dominion.
Joscelyn watched them wrathfully as they took their departures, andstrove by the courtesy of her own manner to atone for their lack ofloyalty. Her house became at once the social rendezvous of thenewcomers, and few hours of the day went by without a summons upon herknocker. Often she was in the cavalcade that drew rein before thegeneral's office after a ride of inspection through the camp; for withthe army were several Loyalist ladies who had fled from their homes totheir husbands when Greene began his retreat, and with the Tory women ofthe neighbourhood they made a goodly company. Mistress Clevering wasfilled with rage when, from behind her closed shutters, she saw thescarlet-coated officers alight at Joscelyn's door. Mary Singleton wassomewhat chary of her favours, fearing the public resentment when theBritish should have withdrawn. But Joscelyn took heed of no suchconsideration, and was withal so charming and so cordial that LordCornwallis, recalling his friendship for her father, unbent from hiscustomary reserve, and exhibited in her parlour a courtesy of bearingwhich was of a piece with the humanity he showed upon his campaigns.Among the younger officers the "Royalist Rose," as they styled her,became a favourite ere the second sun went down upon their coming; sothere was ever an escort waiting at her door when the staff rode forthto the outlying camp.
And oftener than any one else this escort was Captain Barry, of thesecond legion. It was he who stood at the door of the general'sheadquarters when, on that first day, Mary and Joscelyn arrived to makeinquiry for Eustace, and snatching off his hat he came out to receivethem, for they made a very charming picture as they advanced modestlytoward the entrance, piloted by an orderly. The first smile fromJoscelyn's blue eyes did the whole thing for him. He surrendered atonce, without one effort at self-defence; and when he and Eustacereached her veranda, having escorted the girls home, there was not somuch as one poor little pennant left fluttering over the ramparts of hisheart. From that hour his comrades, when he was wanted, knew in whoseparlour to seek him, and he never failed to let Joscelyn know when therewas a pleasure ride or a tour of inspection planned for the day.
It was for an excursion of this sort that Joscelyn dressed herself withexceeding care one afternoon and, with an officer at either bridle-rein,went out to see the army parade for the commander's inspection. Theconversation as they paced along was all of the movements of a suspectedspy from Greene's host beyond the Dan.
"We cannot locate the fellow; but certain it is, the doings of our armyare reported accurately to the insurrectionists. Yesterday a letter wasdiscovered in a hollow stump on the mountain side, left there, ofcourse, by preconcerted arrangement to be called for. The stump is beingsecretly watched, but as yet no results have been obtained. This is allwell known and talked about, Mistress Joscelyn, and you, being one ofus--" Barry's smile said the rest.
"Is it a townsman who has written these reports, think you?" asked thegirl, going over in her mind the people who might be implicated, with aquick inward throb for some of her friends.
"I judge not, for there are references to the writer's journey back fromthe Dan. Evidently it is a follower of Greene who knows this countrywell. He is exceedingly artful, but his capture is necessarily certain,with all the precautions we have taken."
"And what would be his fate, if caught?"
"A spy is shot--or mayhap his lordship will hang him on the hill yonder,where they tell me Governor Tryon swung up the traitorous Regulators inyears gone by. 'Twould be but another chapter in the red history of thisyour Tyburn Hill."
The young soldier laughed at his own allusion, but Joscelyn shuddered;for the first time she seemed to fully realize the grim actualities ofwar. Her companions chatted on gayly, and finally she forced herself tojoin in the conversation; but somehow they could not get away from thesubject of those surreptitious reports and their author.
The wide upland common had been turned into a parade ground, and wasfull of soldiers marching and counter-marching. The general and hisstaff were already afield and saluted the newcomers as they passed on tothe "Hen and Chickens," about which a party of spectators, chieflyladies, were already congregated. Here the officers left Joscelyn withsome friends, and rode away to their different commands. It was sometime before the parade began, and in the interim there was much laughingand talking around the rough boulders. And here again Joscelyn heard ofthe wary scout.
"Who are those men there to the left?" she asked, by way of changing theconversation, and pointed to five or six men in citizen's dress whowere grouped apart by themselves. Some were mounted; some on foot.
"Oh, those are the Tory recruits who came in this morning. They have notyet been assigned to their respective commands, and so are viewing thescene merely as spectators; to-morrow they will be put in the ranks. Thetall one on the right was with Pyle when Lee surprised and routed him. Iunderstand he says information of Pyle's movements was sent to Lee bysome one within the town here--probably a Continental spy."
There was more to tell; but the parade was beginning and theconversation ended, much to Joscelyn's relief. It somehow unstrung hernerves to think of another hanging up on Regulators' Hill. From hersaddle she watched the scarlet companies advance, wheel, pass directlyin front of the general's staff, and finally take position in the longline which was thus formed across the field. It was a stirring sight,and her fingers relaxed their hold on the rein as she leaned forward towatch every movement. Suddenly a band stationed near the group struck upa lively air. The unexpected blare of the trumpets startled Joscelyn'shorse; an upward toss of his head shook the rein from her inert hand,and then with the panic of fear upon him he wheeled about and dashed offat a mad pace. The women in the group behind screamed; for the rein wasswinging about the animal's feet, and the girl in the saddle wasutterly at his mercy. From the first plunge Joscelyn realized the perilof her position; for a few seconds she clung terror stricken to the hornof her saddle; then she shook her foot free from the stirrup and easedher knee from the pommel, for an awful memory had come to her. A hundredyards ahead, directly in the path of the frantic horse, was a deepditch, ragged with rocks; there the race must end in death to thehorse--and mayhap to the rider. Her one chance was to leap from thesaddle. It took but a second for this to flash through her mind; buteven as she turned slightly in her saddle, a voice rang out sternlyabove the braying horns and the thundering hoof beats:--
"Do not jump, on your life!"
Her fingers closed over the saddle horn in spasmodic obedience; and thenshe saw that the horse was running directly toward the group of men incivilian dress on the little knoll, and that one of them had sprungforward and waited with uplifted arm the coming of the runaway. Eventhrough her terror there came a dim realization of the death he wascourting; but in another instant the collision came. The man was knockedaside by the flying horse, but his hand had caught the rein, and halfdragged, half running, he kept his place at the animal's head. Then hisother hand, fumbling uncertainly, found the bit, and he was master ofthe brute. Almost upon the brink of the yawning ditch the horse ceasedits plunges and stood still, quivering through its whole body. The othermen who had followed now crowded about with exclamations and inquiries.
"Will you dismount?" asked her rescuer.
And then as she stretched out her shaking hands for his assistance, shesaw his face for the first time. He was deathly pale, and his hat, whichsome one had picked up, was drawn low over his brow; but the voice andthe eyes were Richard Clevering's. She would have spoken his name butfor a quick glance of warning from under his hat brim. Then a new senseof terror swept over her; for, by some swift and subtle instinct, itcame to her that Richard was the hunted spy of whom she had that dayheard so much.