An Unwilling Maid Part 9

"Again, my thanks," answered Gillian gravely. To none but Clarissa was he ever seen to relax his serious manner; perhaps hers were the only eyes who saw the tenderness behind the stern, reserved exterior. He really liked his cousin; but although Kitty was not, like most people, afraid of him, it must be confessed that he wearied her, and she much preferred to have her gossip with Clarissa, when Gulian was safely out of the house.

"And now tell me about the letters," pursued Kitty. "You sent for your sister, grandma told me. Which one, Clarissa?"

"Indeed, I do not know; I left the choice to my father, but I think--I hope it may be Betty. I only wish I might have Moppet as well," and the quickly checked sigh told Gulian's keen ears what the unuttered thought had been.

"Betty--let me see--is that the sister next yourself?"

"Oh, no; the sister next to me in age died in infancy. Then comes Oliver, and then Pamela, who is seventeen now, and next my Betty. How I wonder if the girls have changed; five years makes a long gap, you know, and even my imagination can scarce fill it. Do you fancy we will hear soon, Gulian?"

"I cannot tell," he said gently, thinking how often he had sought reply to the same question in the past week, and longing tenderly to give her the expected pleasure.

"It may be that General Wolcott may find some chance opportunity to send his daughter at once, in which event you know there would scarce be time to hear before she would reach us."

"Oh, Gulian," cried Clarissa, clasping her hands, as a faint pink glow lit her pale face, "you did not say that before. If it were only possible"--

"Why not?" said Kitty encouragingly.

"But, Gulian, you said in the letter that you would await my sister at King's Bridge Inn. Surely you cannot go there and stop, waiting at the Inn for days?"

"I can ride out to-morrow, and, in fact, I hastened through some business at the wharf to-day which enabled me to have the day free. I can easily go to King's Bridge and inquire at the Inn for dispatches; you will not mind my being absent all day? Perhaps Kitty will come and bear you company while I am gone?"

"Right gladly," replied Kitty; "will you ride alone, Gulian?"

"I might, easily," said Gulian; "but when I procured a pa.s.s from Sir Henry Clinton yesterday (it is an eight days' pa.s.s, Clarissa) I found that Captain Yorke goes to-morrow to the neutral ground to inspect troops, and I think I shall take advantage of his company."

"I am glad of that," said Clarissa, putting her slender hand in Gulian's and looking with grateful eyes up at him, as he stood beside her chair.

"Is he the aide-de-camp you told me of, Gulian, for whom you had taken a liking?"

"The same; a fine, manly fellow, the second son of Lord Herbert Yorke, one of my father's old friends in England. You were dancing with him at the De Lanceys' 'small and early,' were you not, Kitty, last week?"

"Yes," said Kitty, with a quick nod and a half frown, "he has the usual airs and graces of a newly arrived officer from the mother-country."

"Perhaps you find the colonists more to your mind," responded Gulian somewhat severely; but Clarissa gave his sleeve a warning twitch, as Kitty made answer with heightened color:--

"My own countrymen are ever first with me, as you know full well, Gulian, but one must dance sometimes to keep up one's heart in those times, and Captain Yorke has a pa.s.sably good step which suits with mine."

What Gulian would have replied to this was never known, for at that moment an outcry arose in the hall, followed by the b.u.mp, b.u.mp of some heavy body rolling down the staircase, and Peter's boyish voice shouting out, between gasps of laughter,--

"Pompey, Pompey, I say!--it's n.o.body but me; oh, what a proper old goose it is; do, somebody come and thrash him."

In a second Gulian and Kitty were outside the door, and beheld at the foot of the winding stairs poor Pompey, picking himself up, with many groans and much rubbing of his s.h.i.+ns, while Peter, rolling himself nearly double with laughter, stood midway of the flight, with a queer object in his hand which Gulian seized hastily.

"It's only a gourd," gasped Peter between paroxysms. "I kept it in my closet for a week, and half an hour ago I stole a bit of wick out of Dinah's pantry and dipped it well in melted tallow, and than stuck it inside, when, as you see, having carved out two eyes and a slit for the nose, it looks somewhat ghastly when the light comes forth."

"It's a debbil, debbil," cried Pompey. "Ma.s.sa Peter sent me to find his skates, and dat awful face"--Pompey's teeth chattered, and Peter went off in a fresh burst of laughter.

"It soured him properly, Uncle Gulian; and though I ran after him and shook it (it only looks gruesome in the dark, you know) he never stopped, and he stumbled on the first step, and then he rolled--My! how he did b.u.mp"--and naughty Peter sat down on the stalls and held his sides for very merriment.

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself," said Gulian sternly, to whom practical jokes were an utter abomination, "and you deserve to be well punished. Pompey, stop groaning, and inform me at once whether you have sustained any injury by your fall."

"Law, Ma.s.sa Gulian, you tink falling down dat stair gwine to hurt dis chile?" began Pompey, who entertained a warm affection for the mischievous Peter and dreaded nothing so much as a scolding from his master. "Dose stairs don't 'mount to nuffin; ef it had been de area steps dey moughten be dangerous. Ma.s.sa knows boys mus' have dey fun: please 'cuse me for makin' such a bobbery."

"Well, I did it," said Peter st.u.r.dily, instantly sobered by the expression of his uncle's face, and his generous heart touched with Pompey's defense of his prank, "and n.o.body helped me, so let's have the whipping right off before dinner, please, Uncle Gulian, and then I can eat in peace--even if I am a trifle sore," wound up the sinner ruefully.

Gulian Verplanck's sense of humor was not keen, but the situation was too much for him, and a queer, grim smile lit up his eyes, as he said slowly:--

"As Pompey seems more frightened than hurt, and has interceded for you, I shall not punish you this time, Peter; but recollect that the very first occasion after this that you see fit to practice a joke on any member of my household, your skates will be confiscated for the remainder of the winter," and with a warning glance he followed Kitty back into his wife's room, leaving Pompey on the staircase, still rubbing his bruised s.h.i.+ns, while the irrepressible Peter indulged once more in a convulsion of silent laughter which bent him double and threatened to burst every b.u.t.ton off his tightly fitting jacket.

CHAPTER IX

BETTY'S JOURNEY

Mrs. Seymour, having had the advantage of some weeks to form her plans, had carefully arranged everything for her own comfort, so far as was possible, and Betty Wolcott, after the first pang of parting was over, began to enjoy the novelty of the journey most thoroughly. Except for a few days spent at Lebanon, Betty had never been from home in her life, and being, as we have seen, a bit of a philosopher in her own quaint fas.h.i.+on, after the first day spent in Mrs. Seymour's cheerful society she found herself much less homesick than she had expected. To begin with, the coach was, for those times, very comfortable. It was English-built, and had been provided with capacious pockets in unexpected places; it amused Betty exceedingly to find that she was seated over the turkey, ham, cake, and even a goodly pat of b.u.t.ter, carefully packed in a small stone jar, while another compartment held several changes of linen, powder, a small mirror, a rouge pot, and some brushes. Mrs. Seymour had been born and bred in New York, and many of her people were Tories; therefore she hoped to a.s.sist the brother who, breaking apart from the others, had taken up arms for the colonists.

Caesar, Mrs. Seymour's coachman, was a colored man of middle age, a slave of her father's, and, having been brought from New York to Connecticut, knew the route fairly well. They broke the journey first at a small roadside tavern, where the horses were baited, while Betty and Mrs. Seymour gladly descended, and warmed themselves well by the kitchen fire, taking a drink of warm milk, for which the good woman who had invited them inside refused payment. She was deeply interested when Mrs.

Seymour told her of their errand, and followed them out to the door of the coach, bringing with her own hands the soapstone which she had carefully warmed for their feet, and she waved a kindly good-by as they rode off, delighted at seeing, for the first time in her life, a "pleasure coach."

The first night was spent by the travelers in Danbury, where they proceeded to the house of Mrs. Seymour's cousin, Mrs. Beebe, and were most warmly welcomed. The Beebe household, which consisted of Mrs. Beebe and seven children (Captain Beebe being with the Connecticut Rangers), trooped out, one and all, to meet them, to inspect the coach, interview Caesar, and admire the horses. Billy, the second boy, fraternized with Betty at once; and after learning all the mysteries of the coach pockets, helping Caesar to unharness, and superintending the fetching of an extra large log for the fireplace, he roasted chestnuts in the ashes as they sat around the chimney-piece, and told Betty thrilling stories of the attack on Danbury by the British.

"We dragged the feather-beds up to the window," said Billy, "and mother stuffed a pillow or two in the cracks. My, how the bullets did fly! The children were all bid to stay in the attic; but as the roof shelves, you know, it became pretty hot, especially when the fires began, and then mother did get frightened, more especially when she saw the blaze of the Woolford house, down the street. Didn't I just wish I was a man, to go and help father that day! Luckily for us, the wind was in the other direction; father said that was all that saved us."

"And Divine Providence, my son," said Mrs. Beebe's soft voice, as she laid a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Billy's only experience of war was a sharp one for a few hours. He has been longing ever since to join his father, but I can only find it in my mother's heart to rejoice that he is too young to do so. Now, Billy, light the candles; for if our friends must resume their journey to-morrow, it is full time to retire."

Betty found the little room a.s.signed to her, with Billy's a.s.sistance, but before he left her he pointed out two small holes near the window frame, where bullets had entered and remained buried in the woodwork; and as Betty curled herself up in the centre of the great feather-bed, she thought, with a throb of her girlish heart, that perhaps she, too, might see some of the terrors of war before she returned to the shelter of her dear Litchfield home.

The next morning dawned cold and chilly; a few flakes of snow floated through the air, and Mrs. Beebe urged strongly the wisdom of lying over for twenty-four hours, lest a storm should come and render the roads impa.s.sable. But Mrs. Seymour, after a consultation with Caesar, decided that it was best to push on; winter was approaching, and each day made the journey less feasible. There was a fairly good road between them and White Plains, and now that she had started she was impatient to reach the city. Betty, too, was eager to be off, so with many warm thanks, they again packed the coach and said farewell to the hospitable Beebes, who had insisted on adding fresh stores of provisions to their hamper; and Billy's last act of friendliness was to slip into Betty's hand a package of taffy, of his own manufacture, which he a.s.sured her "was not over-sticky, provided you use care in biting it."

This part of the journey was cold and cheerless enough. The road wound somewhat, and the settlements were few, even the houses were far apart from each other; and although the hills were fewer, they heard Caesar admonish his horses more frequently than usual, and about four o'clock in the day they came to a full stop. The snow of the morning had turned into a sort of drizzling rain; and Caesar, dismounting from his seat, announced to his mistress that one of the horses had cast a shoe.

"What shall we do?" cried Mrs. Seymour in dismay, preparing to jump down into the mud and investigate matters.

"Dey's no use at all of madam's gettin' out," said Caesar, holding the door of the coach,--"no use at all. I'se done got de shoe, 'cause I saw it a-comin' off, an' here it is. De horse will do well enuf, 'caise I'll drive wif care; but what I wants to say is that, 'cordin' to my judgment, we had oughter take a turn to de right, just hyar, which am in de direction ob Ridgefield, whar I ken fin' a blacksmith's shop, shuh.

Ef madam pleases, it's goin' somewhat out of de direct way to White Plains, but what wid de weather, which madam can see is obstreperous an'

onsartain, I'm ob de opinion dat Ridgefield am de best stoppin' place for dis night, anyhow;" and having delivered himself of this exhortation, Caesar touched his hat respectfully, but with an air of having settled the question.

"Very well," said Mrs. Seymour, for she knew Caesar and Caesar's ways, and moreover had much confidence in his ability to take care of her, as well as of his horses. "Then take the turn to the right, as you propose.

Are you quite sure you are familiar with the road here, Caesar? It will be dark soon, and I confess I should not like to lose our way."

"Not gwine to lose de road wid dis chile on de box," said Caesar with fine disdain, as he climbed to his seat and rolled himself up warmly again, his teeth chattering as he did so. But he said to himself, as the horses started slowly, "Pray de Lord I ain't mistooken; don't want to fall into none ob dem old redcoats' han's, Caesar don't, dat's sartain."

Inside the coach, which lumbered on so slowly that it almost seemed to crawl, Mrs. Seymour and Betty tried to keep up their spirits by an occasional remark of cheerful character, and Betty suggested that perhaps some bread and cheese from the Beebe larder would prove satisfactory to Caesar; but on asking the question Caesar only shook his head, and responded that he was too busy looking after the horses to eat; and the long hours dragged on as it grew darker and darker. Betty rested her head against the door and peered out at the dripping trees, whose bare limbs stood like skeletons against the leaden sky. Mrs.

Seymour had sunk into a fitful doze by her side. Suddenly the off horse gave a plunge, the coach tilted far to one side, and then righted itself as Caesar's loud "Whoa, dar! Steady! steady!" was heard. Then Betty saw half a dozen shadowy forms surround them, and a voice said sharply, "Who goes there? Halt!" and a hand was laid roughly on the door of the coach.

"Pray who are you who detain ladies on a journey?" said Mrs. Seymour, addressing the man nearest her. "I am in my own coach with a maid on our way to New York, and one of my horses has cast a shoe."