The Loyalist Part 25

Stephen watched him as he moved away, deliberating hurriedly on the advisability of starting after him. Whatever his mission or his purpose, he would not learn in this house certainly, nor from him nor from Arnold for that matter. If he was intent on securing information concerning this man he must do it in a surrept.i.tious manner. There was no other method of dealing with him, he thought, and in view of such circ.u.mstances he deemed it perfectly legitimate to follow him at a safe distance.

The more he thought over it the more readily did he resolve to take action to the end that he might see more of him. Whatever mischief was afoot, and he had no more than a mere suspicion that there was mischief afoot, must reveal itself sooner or later. His object in all probability had already been accomplished, nevertheless his errand, if he was engaged on an errand, might be disclosed. He would follow him if for no other purpose than to learn of his destination.

Second Street was now astir with a lively procession. There, every day when business was over, when the bank was closed, when the exchange was deserted, crowds of seekers came to enjoy the air and to display their rich garments. There might be found the gentlemen of fas.h.i.+on and of means, with their great three-cornered c.o.c.ked hats, resting majestically upon their profusely powdered hair done up in cues, their light colored coats, with their diminutive capes and long backs, their striped stockings, pointed shoes, and lead-laden cuffs, paying homage to the fair ladies of the town. These, too, were gorgeous in their brocades and taffetas, luxuriantly displayed over c.u.mbrous hoops, tower-built hats, adorned with tall feathers, high wooden heels and fine satin petticoats.

It was an imposing picture to behold these gayly dressed damsels gravely return the salutations of their gallant admirers and courtesy almost to the ground before them.

Stephen searched deliberately for his man throughout the length of the crowded thoroughfare, standing the while on the topmost step of the Governor's Mansion--that great old-fas.h.i.+oned structure resembling in many details a fortification, with its two wings like bastions extending to the rear, its s.p.a.cious yard enclosed with a high wall and ornamented with two great rows of lofty pine trees. It was the most stately house within the confines of the city and, with Christ Church, helped to make Second Street one of the aristocratic thoroughfares of the town.

It was with difficulty that Stephen discerned Anderson walking briskly in the direction of Market Street. He set off immediately, taking care to keep at a safe distance behind him. He met several acquaintances, to whom he doffed his hat and returned their afternoon greeting, while he pursued his quest with lively interest and attention. Market Street was reached, and here he was obliged to pause near a shop window lest he might overtake Anderson, who had halted to exchange pleasantries with a young and attractive couple. On they went again deliberately and persistently until at length it began to dawn upon Stephen that they were headed for the Germantown road, and for Allison's house.

What strange relation was arising between Marjorie and that man?

Anderson was paying marked attention to her, he began to muse to himself, too much attention perhaps, for one whose whole existence was clouded with a veil of mystery. Undoubtedly he was meeting with some encouragement, if not reciprocation (perish the thought!), for he was persistent in his attention. Yet this man was not without charm. There was something fascinating about him which even Stephen must confess was compelling. What if she had been captivated by him, by his engaging personal qualities, by his prepossessing appearance, by his habit of gentle speech, by his dignity and his ease of manner! His irritation was justifiable.

There was little doubt now as to Anderson's destination. Plainly he was bent on one purpose. The more he walked, the more evident this became.

Stephen would be a.s.sured, however, and pursued his way until he had seen with his own eyes his man turn into Allison's house. And not until then did he halt. Turning deliberately he began to retrace his steps.

II

"This looks like the kind of book. Has it the 'Largo'?"

Anderson sat on the music-stool before the clavichord turning over the pages of a volume that rested on the rack.

"Perhaps. I scarce think I know what it is. I have never heard it."

Marjorie was nearby. She had been musing over the keys, letting her fingers wander where they would, when he had called. He would not disturb her for all the world, nevertheless he did yield to her entreaties to take her place on the stool.

"You have never heard Handel? The 'Largo' or the greatest of all oratorios, his 'Messiah'?"

"Never!"

He did not reply to this. Instead he broke into the opening chords, the sweetly solemn, majestic harmony of the 'Largo'. He played it entirely from memory, very slowly, very softly at first, until the measured notes, swelling into volume, filled the room in a loud arpeggio.

"That is beautiful," she exclaimed with enthusiasm, "I should have said 'exquisite'. May I learn it?"

"Surely there must be a copy in the city. I shall consider it a favor to procure one for you."

"I should be delighted, I am sure."

He played it again. She regarded him from above. It was astonis.h.i.+ng to note the perfect ease and grace with which he performed. The erect carriage, the fine cut of the head, the delicately carved features became the objects of her attention in their inverse order, and the richly endowed talents, with which he was so signally accomplished, furnished objects of special consideration to her reflective soul. He was exceedingly fascinating and a dangerous object to pit against the heart of any woman. Still Marjorie was shrewd enough to peer beneath his superficial qualities, allowing herself to become absorbed in a penetrating study of the man, his character, his peculiarities;--so absorbed, in fact, that the door behind her opened and closed without attracting her attention.

"I must obtain that copy," she announced as she turned towards her chair.

"Why, Father!" she exclaimed. "When did you come? Mr. Anderson, Father.

You already know him."

"Well met, my boy. You are somewhat of a musician. I was listening."

"Just enough for my own amus.e.m.e.nt," laughed the younger man. "I know a few notes."

"Be not quick to believe him, Father. He plays beautifully."

Mr. Allison sat down.

"Accomplishments are useful ornaments. Nowadays a man succeeds best who can best impress. People want to see one's gifts."

"The greatest of talents often lie buried. Prosperity thrives on pretense."

"True. I'm beginning to think that way myself, the way things 're going."

"With the war?" he asked.

"With everything. I think Congress will fail to realize its boasts, and Arnold is a huge pretender, and----"

"He has lost favor with the people."

"Lost it? He never had it from the day he arrived. People do not like that sort of thing."

Anderson watched him intently and Marjorie watched Anderson.

"He may resign for a command in the army. I have heard it said that he dislikes his office."

"Would to G.o.d he did! Or else go over to the other side."

Anderson's head turned--the least little fraction--so that Marjorie could see the flash light up his eyes.

"He could not desert the cause now without becoming a traitor."

A pause followed.

"Men of lofty patriotism often disagree in the manner of political action. We have many Loyalists among us."

"Yet they are not patriots."

"No! They are not, viewed from our standpoint. But every colony has a different motive in the war. Now that some have obtained their rights, they are satisfied with the situation. I don't know but that we would be as well off if the present state of affairs were allowed to stand."

"What do the Catholics of the Colonies think?"

This was a bold question, yet he ventured to ask it.

"We would fare as well with England as with some of our own," answered Marjorie decisively.

Anderson looked at her for a minute.

"Never!" replied Mr. Allison with emphasis.

"See how Canada fared," insisted Marjorie.

"Tus.h.!.+"