CHAPTER IV.
THE COMPANY ON THE VERANDA.
"Heaven first taught letters for some wretch's aid, Some banished lover or some captive maid." --POPE.
For several weeks after the departure of the soldiers an expectant hushsettled over Hillsboro'-town--the reaction of the mustering and drillingthat had gone before. So few men were left in the town that JanetCameron one day dressed herself in the garb of a nun, and, with thefeigned humility of folded hands and downcast eyes, went calling uponher companions "of the convent town." A ripple of merriment followed inher wake, for she made a most quaint figure. But the Reverend HughMcAden, meeting her upon the corner, so reprimanded her for her levitythat she ran home in tears and hid her gray frock and hood in thegarret. Joscelyn sobered her own face and made the girl's peace with thereverend gentleman with such explanations as at last seemed to himreasonable. But Janet went on no more masquerading tours.
With both the work and the gayety of the town interrupted, there wasnothing of moment to engage attention but the news that came once in awhile from the camps and battle-fields. The interest in this was sharedby every one, so that all the tidings, whether by message or letter,were looked upon as public property. News that came by word of mouth wascried out from the church steps or the court-house door, for no goodcitizen wished to keep his knowledge to himself. Thus it fell out whenit became known that a missive had come from Richard to Joscelyn, that ascore or more of women gathered about her door to learn the contents.She came out to them upon the veranda, her saucy beauty enhanced by thescarlet bodice, her eyes full of laughter.
"Read you Master Clevering's letter?--As you will, Mistress Strudwick;you may perchance find more of interest in it than I," she answered withthat sweet courtesy she showed ever to her elders. And so havingenthroned Mistress Strudwick upon the wicker bench of the porch, whilethe others disposed themselves upon the steps and the grass of theterrace which sloped directly to the street, she unfolded her letter andcleared her throat pompously as is the manner of public speakers.
"I pray you have patience with me, good ladies," she said, "if so I readbut slowly. Master Clevering ever had trouble with his spelling; and asfor the writing, 'tis as though a fly had half drowned itself in theinkhorn and then crawled upon the page."
Then did she proceed to read them the letter from its greeting to itsclose, pausing now and then to laboriously spell out a word. There wereaccounts of the life at Valley Forge, of the drilling and the picketduty and the ceaseless watching of the enemy. Then there was an exultantdescription of the victory at far-off Stillwater, as it was given to himby a fellow-soldier who had been a participant.
"Said I not the Continentals would win? Would I had been there to see! Five times was one cannon captured and recaptured. How glorious the fighting was; and think of the surrender! Well, well, it consoles me somewhat to think of that coming last surrender of that archest of all the Royalists. I shall bear a part in that, for it is to me the capitulation will be made--"
"Why, dear me, is Master Clevering to be made commander-in-chief of theAmerican forces, that his Majesty's troops should yield arms to him?"Joscelyn broke off to ask with assumed innocence. "I heard naught of hisrapid promotion."
"Come, come, Joscelyn, leave off sneering at Richard and read us therest."
She laughed as she turned the page.
"Say to Mistress Strudwick that the fame of her gallant brother, Major William Shepperd, hath reached even this remote quarter, and his old friends glory in his prowess. Little Jimmy Nash has lost his wits and wants another pair--
("A pair of wits! What can that mean? Oh, I ask your pardon, MistressNash; it is 'mits,' not 'wits.' Master Clevering hath so queer ahandwriting.)
"--and wants another pair; let his mother know, that she may knit them and send them by the first chance."
There were other messages and news items which the girl read, and thencame the signature.
"There follows here a postscript which perchance some of you may help meto unravel," she added; and then, with the air of a town-crierannouncing his errand, she proceeded:--
"To the girl of my heart say this, that I forget not I am fighting for her, and that I look upon every Redcoat my gun can bring down as one more obstacle removed from betwixt us. I think of her always."
She paused and puckered her brow in a perplexed frown. "Now who, I prayyou, is the girl of his heart? Cannot some of you help me to guess?"
"Methinks 'twould be an easy task for you," laughed Mistress Strudwick.
"_Me?_" repeated Joscelyn, still with that air of perplexed innocence."Nay, he was ever so full of jokes and quarrels that it never came to mehe had a heart."
"Mayhap it is Dorothy Graham he means," said a voice in the crowd.
"More like 'tis Patience Ruffin."
"Or little Janet Cameron--he set much store by her."
"Nay," said a teasing voice, "Janet is going to be a nun; such messagesto her would not be proper." Whereat there was a general laugh.
"Whoever she is, 'tis a pity she should miss her love message throughher lover's obscurity and our ignorance," said Joscelyn. "What thinkyou, Mistress Strudwick, were it not a good plan to post this page uponthe banister here that all who pass may read? In this wise we may findthe maid."
With a pin from her bodice, and using her high-heeled slipper--which shedrew off for the purpose--as a hammer, she tacked the paper to thebanister. But it had not fluttered twice in the wind ere Betty hadsnatched it down.
"Shame on you, Joscelyn, for so exposing my brother's letter!"
"Oh, I meant not to anger you, Betty," returned the girl, sweetly, asshe took the letter again and thrust it into her bodice. "Since you likenot this plan, we will have the town-crier search out the mysteriousdamsel and bring her here to read for herself. Let us see how the crywould run: 'Wanted, wanted, the girl of Richard Clevering's heart toread his greeting on Mistress Cheshire's porch!'"
She stooped to buckle her shoe, her foot on the round of MistressStrudwick's chair, and so they saw not the laughter in her eyes. Sheknew well that Betty would not fail to write Richard of the scene, andshe already fancied his anger; she could have laughed aloud. "MethinksI have paid you back a score, Master Impertinence," she said to herself,and then fell to talking to Dorothy Graham until the company dispersed.That night Betty, running in on a message from her mother, foundJoscelyn using the fragments of the ill-fated letter to curl the longhair of Gyp, the house-dog, and she went home to add an indignantpostscript to the missive to her brother, over which she had spent theafternoon. But even as she wrote she knew he would not heed her advice;and sure enough, in course of time another letter came to the house onthe terrace:--
"The girl of my heart is that teasing Tory, Joscelyn Cheshire, who conceals her tender nature under such show of scorning. One day her love shall strike its scarlet colours to the blue and buff of mine; and her lips, instead of mocking, will be given over to smiles and kisses, for which purpose nature made them so beautiful.
"Post this on your veranda for the town to read, an you will, sweetheart. For my part, I care not if the whole world knows that I love you."
But Joscelyn did no such thing. Instead, she thrust the letter out ofsight, and refused to read it even to Betty, who had only half forgivenher for her former offence against her brother.
As the days passed, however, Betty was full of concern for theprivations Richard endured, and out of sheer force of habit she carriedher plaint to Joscelyn.
"Richard drills six hours a day, rain or shine," she said, with anexpostulatory accent on the numeral.
"Dear me, is he that hard of learning? Methinks even _I_ could masterthe art of shouldering a gun and turning out my toes in less time thanthat. It seems not so difficult a matter."
"And even after all this," Betty went on, taking no heed of the other'slaugh, "he may not rest at n
ight, but must needs do picket duty or go onreconnoitring expeditions. And he hath not tasted meat in two weeks, notsince he hath been in camp."
"What a shame! A soldier such as Master Clevering should sit among thefleshpots and sleep all night in a feather bed."
"I knew you would laugh," Betty said with sudden heat. "You treatRichard as though he counted for naught; but the truth is, Joscelyn, youare not half good enough for him."
And Betty flung out of the house with her chin in the air, whileJoscelyn kissed her hand to her with playful courtesy, but with agenuine admiration for her spirit.
But she softened not her heart toward Richard. Because of his impatiencewith her opinions, and the personal nature of their disputes andoppositions, he had come to typify to her the very core and heart ofthe insurrection. She knew this was foolish, that he was in truthbut an insignificant part of the general turmoil; and yet he was theprominent figure that always came before her when the talk turned on theRevolution, no matter in what company she was. His masterful ways ofwooing and cool assumption of her preference also grated harshly uponher, and even in his absence her heart was often hot against him. Shelistened indifferently to his mother's and Betty's praise of him.
Her position in the community was rather a peculiar one; for while manyof her companions disliked her tenets, they loved her for her merry waysand grace of manner, and so they refused to listen to some of the morerabid members who counselled ostracism. Her mother, too, was a strongbond between her and the public; for when the patriotic women of thetown met together to sew and knit for the absent soldiers, MistressCheshire often went with them, and no needle was swifter than hers. Itwas her neighbours she was helping; the soldiers were a secondaryconsideration. She was not going to quarrel with Ann Clevering andMartha Strudwick because their husbands had fallen out with the king;that was his Majesty's affair, not hers, and she did not believe inmeddling in other people's quarrels. But Joscelyn shut herself in herroom on these days and read her English history; or else, being deftwith her pencil, made numerous copies of the historical pictures of KingGeorge and his ministers, which were pinned up on the railing of herbalcony as a new testimonial of her loyalty. But no sooner was her backturned than some passer-by tore them away, sometimes leaving instead awritten threat of retaliation that made her mother's heart cold with anameless dread.
It was in the end of March, some six weeks after the departure of thetroops, that sad news came from the south. Where the Pedee widenedtoward its mouth a blow had been struck for liberty, and Uncle Cleveringhad fallen in a charge with Sumter.
There had been a body of Tories to disperse, a wagon-train to capture,and despatches to intercept; and Sumter's troops, knowing this, rode allthe windy night through moonshine and shadow to surprise the enemy inthe daffodil dawn of that March morning. Swift, silent, resistless, likespectres of the gray forest, they came upon the astonished Redcoats--andkept their tryst with Victory! The prisoners, the wagon-train, thedespatches were theirs; but one of them had ridden to his rendezvouswith death. The elder Clevering's horse was led back through all thelong miles to Hillsboro' with the stirrups crossed over the saddle; andAnn Clevering sat in her house, bereft. Each day Martha Strudwick andother friends went to her with words of kindly commiseration; but it wasMistress Cheshire who did most to comfort the afflicted widow, so thatthese two were drawn yet closer together with that bond of sympathy thatcomes of a mutual loss. And in Betty's or Mistress Clevering's presenceJoscelyn never again talked tauntingly of English prowess, since it wasan English bullet that had wrought such sorrow to her friends. But eventhis death, shocking as it was to her, in no way shook her allegiance tothe cause she held to be right.