From Kingdom to Colony
your wicked story, and I doubt not he'll endorse the writing of the
opinion I've put upon your cowardly face for saying such evil
falsehoods of me!"
"Dot--Dorothy--whatever does this mean?" It was the voice of her
brother, as he dashed to her side and caught her arm, now lifted for
another blow.
She shivered, and the whip fell to the ground, while Hugh ordered the
men to take their prisoner away.
They obeyed, grinning shyly at each other, and now feeling assured that
no British spy was amongst them.
Captain Southorn had stood motionless, looking at Dorothy in
unconcealed amazement. But her quick punishment of the fellow's insult
seemed to have a good effect upon Hugh Knollys, for his face now showed
much of its sunny good-nature.
The sight of what she had done, no less than the sound of her voice,
had brought back the impetuous, wilful Dot of bygone days; and he found
himself thinking again of the little maid whose ears he boxed because
of the spilled bullets, years ago.
CHAPTER XXXV
"Dorothy, speak,--what is it?" her brother demanded. "Hugh?" and he
turned questioningly, as Dorothy threw herself into his arms.
"He called me a British spy," she sobbed, "and tried to shoot me!"
He held her closer, while he listened to Hugh and Captain Southorn as
they told him of all that had passed.
It appeared that Hugh, returning through the woods from his mission to
the outposts, had found a horse tied not far away from where they were
now standing. This struck him as something unusual; and looking about,
he noticed that the bushes were trampled and broken in a direction
which seemed to lead toward Washington's headquarters.
Suspecting a possible spy, he had cautiously followed the plainly
marked way, and soon caught sight of a man dodging about, as if not
wishing to be seen, and so intent upon watching something in front of
him as to be quite unconscious of Hugh's approach.
Stealing as close as possible, Hugh stood silent, now aware that the
man's attention was centred upon the regular pathway through the wood.
Presently he saw him raise his gun, and feared it might be Washington
himself at whom he was aiming; for he knew the Commander-in-Chief was
to be abroad that morning, and he made no doubt that this was some
emissary of the enemy bent upon murdering him.
Thinking only of this, Hugh had thrown himself upon the man, but too
late to prevent the discharge of the gun, although he succeeded in
diverting its aim.
"And saved her life!" exclaimed Captain Southorn and John Devereux
together.
Hugh uttered no word until Dorothy turned to him suddenly and took his
hand, while she looked up at him in a way that needed no speech.
"Never mind, Dot," he said huskily. "You gave him a fine lesson, just
such as he deserved, and it does me good to think of it. Only, I'd
like to have done it myself."
She blushed, and dropped his hand, stealing a sidewise glance at her
husband, who was looking at Hugh and herself.
Jack was now about to speak; but Hugh started quickly, exclaiming,
"This will never do; I am forgetting my duty, and must hurry on and
make my report."
"One second, Hugh," said Jack; "I have something to say to you."
They walked along together, conversing in low tones, while Dorothy,
with a nervous little laugh, said to her husband, "Are you afraid of
me, now that you see the temper I possess?"
"Nay, little one," he answered, drawing closer to her and taking her
hand. "You did nothing more than the circumstances richly provoked.
And," with a teasing laugh, "I do not forget a certain day, in another
wood, when my own cheek felt the weight of this same dainty hand's
displeasure."
She looked a bit uncomfortable, and he hastened to add, "And I felt
afterward that I, too, received but my just deserts for my presumption."
"I always wondered," she said, now smilingly, "what you could think of
a young lady who would rig herself up in her brother's raiment, to roam
about at night; and who would so far forget herself as to slap a
gentleman in the face,--and one of His Majesty's officers at that."
He laughed. "Then you must know, sweet wife," he answered, as she
stood looking down, stirring the leaves with her boot tip, "that I only
loved you the better, if possible, for it all. It showed you to
possess a brave heart and daring spirit, such as are ever the most
loyal to the man a true woman loves. But for all those same acts of
yours, I'd not have dared to do as I did; but I felt that no other
course would lead you to follow the feeling I was sure I read in your
eyes."
John Devereux, who had gone out to the roadway with Hugh, now called to
them.
"Come, both of you," he said; "it is time to be off."
"This must be our real good-by, little one." Captain Southorn glanced
about them, and then put his arm around Dorothy. "We shall both be
leaving shortly, and I cannot say good-by properly with a lot of other
folk about. Ah," with a shudder, and holding her up to his breast,
"when I think of what might have happened, had not your friend Hugh
come upon the scene, it makes it all the harder for me to let you go
again."
"But there is no danger now," she said courageously; "the man is a
prisoner. But whatever could have put such a crazy idea into his
head?" she asked indignantly.
"Did you never see him before?" her husband inquired.
"Yes, at the Gray Horse Inn;" but her brother's voice, now calling
rather impatiently, cut short her story.
"And will you come when I send word?" Captain Southorn asked.
"Yes," she whispered.
"Well, thank God it will be but a few days until then," he said, giving
her a parting kiss. "So for now, my wife,--my own little wife, adieu!"
As they were taking their way to the house, Jack looked at his watch
and scowled a little as he saw the lateness of the hour. Then he
turned to Dorothy, and inquired, as her husband had done, in regard to
her knowledge of Farmer Gilbert.
She told of all that Mary and herself had seen of him at the inn; and
her brother's quick perceptions put the facts together while he
listened.
They found gathered before the house an unusual number of men, in
animated conversation; but as the three figures approached, they all
became silent, glancing at the new-comers in a way to indicate that the
recent occurrence had formed the subject of their discussion.
Some of them now strolled away, while those who remained--all of them
connected with the headquarters--drew aside to let Lieutenant Devereux
and his companions pass.
"Do you know if Sergeant Knollys is within, Harris?" Jack inquired,
addressing one of them.
"Yes, I am quite sure you will find him inside."
Turning to another of the men, Jack bade him have the horses brought at
once, and order the escort to be ready for immediate departure.
"We shall have to hasten, Dot," he said hurriedly, as they went along
the hall. "And," addressing her husband, "Captain Southorn, I must now
turn you over to Captain Ireson."
"Then I am not like to see you again," said the young Englishman, as he
extended his hand.
"No, I should have gone to Boston with you, to escort Captain Pickett
on his return, but I have orders to see my small sister safely to the
house and care of our neighbor, Mistress Knollys."
"And when are we to meet again?"
He spoke earnestly, almost with emotion, for he had come to have a
strong affection for this handsome, high-spirited young Colonist, whose
face and manner so resembled Dorothy's.
"Who can say?" asked Jack, sadly, as the two stood with clasped hands,
looking fixedly at one another.
"Well, God grant that it be before long, and when our countries are at
peace," exclaimed Southorn.
"Amen to that," answered Jack. "And," in a voice that trembled, "you
will always be good to--" The sentence was left unfinished, while his
arm stole about his sister's shoulders.
"As God is my witness,--always," was the solemn reply.
"And now, Dot," said her brother, with a contented sigh, and speaking
in a more cheerful tone, as if now throwing off all his misgivings,
"you must bid Captain Southorn farewell for a few days, and we will get
under way. But first I have to go with him and report to Captain
Ireson."
She held out both hands to her husband, who bent over and pressed them
to his lips.
"You will surely come when I send?" he asked softly.
She nodded, looking up at him through her tears.
In half an hour the party of soldiers, with Dorothy and her brother,
took the way to Dorchester, Hugh appearing at the last moment to say
farewell, as his duty called him in another direction. And it was not
long before a smaller party, bearing a flag of truce, set out with
Captain Southorn, to effect his exchange for Captain Pickett.
The following day Farmer Gilbert was brought before General Washington,
who listened gravely to his attempted justification. Then, after a
stern rebuke, so lucid and emphatic as to enlighten the man's dull
wits, now made somewhat clearer by his confinement and enforced
abstinence, he was permitted to go his way.
A week after this, little Mistress Southorn was escorted to the British
lines and handed over to her waiting husband; and a few days later, a
transport sailed, taking back to England some disabled officers and
soldiers, as well as a small number of royalists, who were forced to
leave the country for the one whose cause they espoused too openly.
Dorothy was standing by the ship's rail, alone, her husband having left
her for a few minutes. She was busy watching the stir and bustle of
departure, when she recognized, in a seeming farmer who had come aboard
with poultry, the pedler, Johnnie Strings.
The sight of his shrewd face and keen little eyes brought to her
mingled feelings of pleasure and alarm, and, wondering what his mission
could be, she hurried toward him.
"Oh, Johnnie, is it safe for you to be here?" she exclaimed, as she
grasped his hand.
"Sh-h, sweet mistress!" he said cautiously. "I won't be safe if ye
sing out in such fashion. Jest ye get that scared look off yer face,
while we talk nat'ral like, for the sake o' them as stands 'round. Ye
see I was the only one that could risk comin', an' I'm to carry back
the last news o' ye. But oh, Mistress Dorothy," and his voice took a
note of expostulation, "however had ye the heart to do it? But o'
course we all know 't was not really yer own doin', arter all. I tell
ye, mistress, that mornin' at the Sachem's Cave saw the beginnin' of a
sight o' mischief."
She passed this by without comment, smiling at him kindly while she
gave him many parting messages for those at Dorchester, and for Aunt
Lettice and little 'Bitha, and all at the old house.
The pedler promised to deliver them, and then looking into her face, he
sighed mournfully.
"Aye, but 't is thankful I am, mistress, that yer old father ne'er
lived to see this day."
"Oh, Johnnie, don't say that--how can you?" she cried impulsively.
He saw the pained expression his words had brought, and added hastily,
as he drew the back of his hand across his eyes, "There, there, sweet
mistress, don't take my foolish words to heart, for my own is so sore
this day over all that's come to pass, an' that ye should be goin' away
like this, that I scarce know jest what I be sayin'."
Before Dorothy could reply, she saw her husband approaching; and
Johnnie, seeing him as well, turned to go.
"Won't you wait and speak to him?" she asked, a little shyly.
"No, no, Mistress Dorothy," was his emphatic answer,--"don't ye ask
that o' me. I could n't stummick it--not I. God keep ye, sweet
mistress, an' bring ye back to this land some day, when we 've driven
out all the d----d redcoats."
With this characteristic blessing, the pedler hastened away, and was