CHAPTER XXVII
A BLENDED ROSE
For weeks the Quaker City girls had been looking forward with muchanticipation and great eagerness to the eighteenth day of May, 1778.On that day there was to be a most wonderful, grand and gorgeouspageant in honour of the Howes.
There was much chirping and fluttering those evenings in the homes ofthe Shippens, the Chews, the Achmutys, the Redmans, and others. In themidst of all this lived Elizabeth Danesford, and a very lively part ofit she was.
Among all the Philadelphia beauties--and none in all this great landor the lands across the seas could excel them--Lisbeth was a peeress.About her shrine could be found as many worshippers as any of thecharming queens could boast. Scions of Britain's aristocracy, favouredwith a glimpse from under her dark lashes, forgot their other dutiesand waited upon her whims. And she, Tory though she was, delighted inseeing the haughty bend the knee to a girl from the Old Dominion.
And that graceful fellow, Andre, who had a knack for rhyme, a littleskill with the brush, and could design a lady's costume with evenbetter success than he could pen a verse, ah, he was in his seventhheaven! Time enough to sorrow bye and bye when he should step from acart with a rope about his neck, all because of Benedict Arnold.
There was a triumphal arch erected in honour of Lord Howe, and anotherin honour of his brother, the general. There were pavilions to buildaround the arena in which gaily attired knights, mounted on richlycaparisoned steeds, were to contend, knights in white and knights inblack, and their reward the favours to be bestowed by the fair damselsof the "Blended Rose" or "The Burning Mountain." And there were menand women no doubt--usually there are--who would have sold theirimmortal souls rather than have missed an invitation to attend.
Never before had America witnessed such a brave display, the parade offloats upon the river, the fireworks, the tournaments, the dazzlingcostumes, the sumptuous banquet and the brilliant ball to conclude itall; and then that beautiful Italian name, "Mischianza," the title bywhich it should be known to future generations.
The sun was winking at the closed curtains of Lisbeth's room the nextmorning as she stood before her mirror for a farewell glance at hersplendid attire, and that towering head-dress flashing with jewelsover which the hair-dresser had worked long and marvellously. The facewas fresh, the beautiful eyes undimmed, the eyes of a conqueror,flashing as she recalled Lord Howe bending low over her fair hand withunmistakable admiration in his face.
While she thus admired herself, the drums were beating and thesoldiers were marching out of the city to capture Lafayette, who, itwas thought, would make a suitable decoration for the glory of theHowes. Really they should take away with them something in the way ofglory other than memories of an idle winter amid Philadelphia'shospitality, and of the pomp and beauty of the "Mischianza." But thepoor soldiers came marching back without their prize, while the ladieswere yet talking of the fete, their costumes and their conquests. Yet,as we have learned, the soldiers, missing their prize, did bring backa meagre harvest for the maw of the Provost Prison, and of that RodneyAllison was a part.
What of the poor fellow we left moaning in delirium, and LawrenceEnderwood, doing his best to quiet his friend, while he inwardly ragedat their jailer's brutality? He was a very sick lad, as Lawrence couldsee by the morning light filtering through the dirt of the windows.
"He'll not last long in this den; they die like flies. I know, forI've seen 'em," said a haggard prisoner, who had entered the prison ahale, lusty man and was now a tottering skeleton.
Helpless to aid his friend, and forced to sit idly by and see himsuffer and die, Lawrence Enderwood buried his face in his hands.
"General Howe well might know this be no place for women."
The gruff, surly tone of Cunningham was answered by one as sweet asthe note of a song bird.
"But, Captain, he surely might know it would be a better place forhuman beings if it were."
Lawrence lifted his head and his eyes lighted, as well they might, forthe girl was a refreshing picture.
"You are right, Miss Danesford. General Howe not only might, he oughtto know about this villainous place."
"Ah, Mr. Enderwood--pardon, that epaulette declares you are a captainand the red facings of your blue coat indicate that you leadVirginians. Possibly, however, the Mister to you is of more value thanthe title of captain, since your General Washington has made himselffamous with the British as a plain 'Mister.'"
"It must be very humiliating to their generals to be beaten by a plain'Mister,' must it not? But I would not say unpleasant things, forverily your visit is most welcome, whether you came to see me oranother."
"You, most assuredly. Colonel Brent was boasting yesterday of havingbagged a genuine militia captain from old Virginia, and, when he toldme your name, I did not thank him for his exploit."
"Believe me, I greatly appreciate your kindness. Perhaps, having beenso kind to a poor Virginia captain, you may come to speak of 'our'Washington, for you are a daughter of Virginia."
Lisbeth appeared not to notice this allusion to her Tory principles,and exclaimed, as she looked with evident disgust at the squalidsurroundings: "Why will men be so cruel to men? I will tell GeneralHowe some truths that will cause his ears to burn, and--"
"And shut the door against your return. You see I am selfish enough tolook for another visit, though this pestilent hole is no place for youto visit. Howe will do nothing. When he was in command at New York ourmen literally rotted in the foul prison hulks lying in the harbour. Itis a cheap and an easy way for killing us off."
"Now, no lectures, Captain Enderwood. Howe shall know of this, and Ibelieve will do something to improve it. Meanwhile, here is a littlebasket of food cooked by our old Nancy. You always praised Nancy'scooking when you came to 'The Hall' in the old days, so you are underobligations to eat every crumb of it, even if it isn't as good as theprison fare."
"Good as the prison fare! Why, the cockroaches that crawl around hereare literally starving. It's a marvel you got past old Cunningham withthis basket. Nothing infuriates him so, and this morning I saw himknock on the floor a bowl of broth brought to one of the prisoners."
"Oh! I can't understand it."
"No, and you never will until you get better acquainted with men likeCunningham, which God forbid. But tell me about the 'Mis-er-'"
"'Mischianza?' Oh, it was the most delightful affair ever known. Youshould have seen it. The floats on the river, the parades, the arches,the battles between the knights and all! Well, Major Andre was a trueprophet when he said no Roman fete would equal it. I simply can't findwords to describe ever so little of it."
With you present I couldn't have realized its magnificence if I hadseen it, was the thought in Enderwood's mind, but what he said was:"They tell me it was gorgeous, and you may say with the old Roman,er--how do those Latin words go? Anyhow it was to the effect that he'dbeen a part of the doings, quite a big part at that."
"I? Why, I was but a crumb at the banquet."
Ah, Lisbeth! Those flashing eyes, that colour such as "blended rose"never had, that lithe, rounded figure radiating vitality, bespeak toomuch of modesty in your words.
"Go on, Nat, old boy, faster! We must save the girl. Up and at 'em,Rangers! Cheated of promotion, and by a girl! Oh, Lisbeth, how couldyou do it! You knew I'd believe what you told me."
"Who is that?" The girl's face is pale and her voice trembles.
"Another victim. I was about to ask you, if possible, to have a doctorsent here. Cunningham refused it. You know him, surely you do. It'spoor Rodney Allison. He'll not ride many more races, I'm thinking,such as the night he rode and overtook your horse and stopped it."
"Rodney! Don't you know me, your old playmate? Don't you know Lisbeth?How hot his head is!"
The girl sat, as one dazed, with her cool hand on the lad's forehead.He lay more quietly under her kindly touch.
"He hasn't got to suffer as long as the most of us. It will only be aquestion of a few days in this p
lace," said Lawrence, bitterly.
Lisbeth looked up, and Lawrence saw that her eyes glittered and herface looked hard. She bade him adieu and was gone before he could saymore.
"She come in like an angel o' mercy an' went out with a face likeJezebel's. Guess she was feared she mought ketch the fever," said oneof the prisoners. Captain Enderwood swore at the poor old man, thoughthe captain ever respected age and regarded profanity as the mark of aboor.
That night Rodney Allison slept in a clean bed in a neat room, with adoctor by his side and a nurse none other than Miss Danesford herself,while Captain Lawrence Enderwood, on parole, walked about the city andthen took night watch at the side of his sick friend.