 | CHAPTER V.
THE HEROINE. Neal Nelson |  |
5. CHAPTER V.
THE HEROINE.
The severity with which Sir William
Howe reprimanded his youthful relative
for his free expression of his opinion, accompanied
as the reproof was with ridicule,
vexed Neal not a little. His pride
was touched by the contempt with which
his bold avowal of his sentiments had
been received. He was at that age, and
of that frank, ingenious temper which
knows no double dealing, and which fearlessly
manifests its emotions. Neal saw
nothing to occasion surprise, that, because
he thought the Americans were
right in resistance, he should say so.—
He had not lived so long in the world as
to learn that the truth must sometimes be
withheld; and that men must speak as
interest and prejudice dictate. Though
serving England he did not feel himself
the less competent to see the difference
between right and wrong! nor, seeing
it, did he suspect that he was doing anything
reproachable in making known his
sentiments.
He was therefore not a little annoyed
by the manner in which his uncle had
received his opinions. For this uncle,
he had not of late felt very ardent attachment.
He had, not many days before,
learned from his mother for the first time,
the history of her marriage, of her persecution,
of her father's wicked death, and
the relentless conduct of his uncle towards
him and her. He had, when she
discovered his honest indignation, pledged
himself to his mother not to show any
ill-will towards Sir William Howe, but to
manifest the same respect as formerly towards
him. The promise was easier
than its execution. Neal could not from
that day but feel that he was in the presence
of a man who had proved the greatest
enemy to his parents. This feeling
of resentment went far to sever his attachment
both to his uncle and to the
royal cause. He felt that he no longer
owed to his uncle duty or service.
The manner in which his free expression
of opinion was received a few days
after his mother's communication, did
not by any means serve to increase his
regard for his distinguished relative.—
A few moments afterwards he left the
room to retire ostensibly to his quarters,
which were a few doors farther east on
the same street. Instead of entering the
dwelling where his room was, he passed
by it and took his way rapidly down
School street and across Cornhill in the
direction of Fort Hill. It was seven
o'clock in the evening and the air was
filled with snow, for it was the last of
January, about six weeks previous to the
evacuation of the town. Here and there
at the corners of the streets, or in passing
guard houses he was challenged by the
sentries, who enveloped in their thick
winter coats, paced up and down at a
quick tread on their posts, and looking,
by the light of the lamps swung above
the sentry-box, like shaggy Greenland
bears.
As he passed the old South which was
occupied as a barracks for a corps of
cavalry, he saw an officer just dismounting
at the West door, who throwing his
bridle to a sergeant crossed the walk as
he went by so as to intercept him. Neal
was enveloped in a storm jacket such as
naval officers stand watch in, in heavy
weather, and perhaps was recognized by
it, rather than by his features, which
were nearly concealed within the meeting
collar.
`Ah, Nelson, is it you?'
`Yes, Colonel Jocelyn. How do you
do to-night?'
`Cleverly, thank you! But whither
away such a blustering night? Come in
and take something to warm yourself.—
I have been out the last two hours towards
the Roxbury lines watching the
movements of a party of infernal rebels
who have been skulking since sun-down
about the neck as if bent on mischief.—
We sent a few shot at them but they took
no more notice of the balls than as if they
so many nine-pins! I received orders
to be ready to make a cavalry charge upon
them if they came nearer, but they
have at length retired, and so I am at
liberty to go to sleep, a luxury I haven't
enjoyed this thirty-six hours, save in the
saddle!'
`Where are your men?' asked Neal
carelessly.
`They came up in advance of me
quarter of an hour ago, and I dare say
sound asleep in the galleries of this puritan
conventiele, every soul of them. But
come in! I have a bed and a bumper
for you.'
`Thank you; I have an engagement!'
answered Neal.
`With a pretty rebel, I dare swear!'
responded Jocelyn, laughing. `Do you
know I have heard of your being a very
frequent guest with that old rebel, Colonel
Parks! They say he has a pretty
neice; but I have not had the pleasure
of seeing her yet; for she secludes herself
like a nun.'
Neal colored in spite of an effort to
command the expression of his face, and
said in a gay tone,
`Rebel Colonels may have fair neices
enow in Boston, and the gallant Colonel
Jocelyn be far more wise upon the matter
than I.'
With this reply he passed on, bidding
the huzzar officer good night. He turned
into Milk street and so on to what is
now known as Pearl street. He ascended
it about half way and then stopped in
front of a stately mansion, three stories
in height facing the West, and separated
from the street by a terrace garden.
After looking carefully about him to
see if he was observed, he entered the
gate, and ascending to the front door
knocked for admittance After a little
delay the door was opened by an old
man, erect and stately in his figure, and
with an air at once venerable and military.
When he recognised his visitor he
smiled and extended his hand with cordial
and affectionate welcome.
`Come in, my son! The storm is
most too violent for you to be abroad.'
`I am a seaman, sir, and little regard
the weather,' answered Neal as he entered.
`Come in and let me hear what news
you have! We live so retired we get
nothing certain, though strange accounts
are continually coming to us through our
domestics. Never mind stopping to
knock off the snow out side. Hang your
coat in the hall as it is. We New Englanders
are not afraid to have snow
brought into our houses.'
Neal removed his rough coat which
was fairly whitened with the flakes and
followed the old gentleman into a small
comfortable parlor warmed by a blazing
wood fire. The whole apartment wore
an air of quiet, grave respectability, without
osteatation or luxury. An old fashioned
calico sofa and two arm chairs, the
backs embroidered with heraldic designs,
invited to comfortable repose. Over the
mantle piece was a portrait of Queen
Anne, and around the walls hung pictures
of battles in Flanders, set in carved
frames of great antiquity. The andirons
were brass dogs and shone like the sun;
while the brass latches and locks of the
doors rivalled them in lustre. A pipe
upon the mantle showed that the host
loved to smoke; and a book case of
three or four hundred volumes, partly
hid by a green curtain, betrayed his love
for literature.
On one side of the fire-place stood a
small work-table, on which lay a piece of
needle-work in a state of progress, and
the needle sticking in it, the low rocking
chair still in motion; a ladies handkerchief
lying on the floor betrayed that the
embroiderer had but the instant before
deserted it, probably on hearing the rap
at the door.
Neal looked at the little work table
and chair as he entered with the animated
look of one about to address some
one whom he expected to find occupying
it; but the instant change that passed
across his face showed his disappointment.
`Anne will return in a moment, Neal.
She did not know it was you or she
would not have run.'
But her father was mistaken. It was
because she knew it was Neal that she
did fly! She flew to change her dress,
for not expecting any visiter so stormy a
night she was in a sort of home undress;
which though sweetly becoming, and
conceivable advantage, she did not think
it proper to appear in before a young
gentleman; for Anne Parks, though
possessed of excellent taste had not yet
learned that our sex are most charmed
with simplicity of costume in hers.
`What is this rumor, my young friend,
that Sir William Howe proposes to march
out with the whole garrison to-morrow,
and give General Washington battle?'
asked Colonel Parks, after Neal had
seated himself in the opposite arm chair
to his own, leaving the low cushioned
rocking-chair to be occupied by her for
whose return his throbbing heart and
listening ears were waiting.
`There is no foundation for the rumor
ripe as it is.'
`Yes, there is no question but that
such a report has been circulated by
General Howe.'
`Yes; his motive in doing it, I can
now say to you, sir, without betraying
his confidence in me, was to draw Washington's
forces all to one focus at Roxbury;
when taking advantage of the open
country he meant to land a large detachment
at Lechmere Point to forage for
provisions! But as the American General
with his characteristic penetration has
seen through the ruse and kept his army
quiet, the plan has failed.'
`I guessed this was his motive. Howe
is in no situation to fight a battle. He
is growing each day weaker, and in six
month's time unless he is reinforced from
England he will have to capitulate or
withdraw on board the shipping!'
`One of these results is inevitable.—
But my sympathies are no longer with
him or the royal cause!'
`Indeed! are you then becoming one
of us?' asked the old man with sparkling
eyes. `I have been looking for
this! I have hoped for it! I have refrained
from advising or urging you to be
with us. I have satisfied myself with explaining
to you all the causes of our differences
with England and the motive
which led us to take up arms, leaving
the inferences to your own good sense
and justice. I have understood fully
your position as nephew and aid of the
General in chief, and I have forborne to
influence you though I felt that time
would produce a change and lead you to
right decision and action!'
`Yes decision and action is what I
have been deficient in, sir. But I fear
you place more meaning upon my words
than I meant to give them? I meant to
say that I am satisfied that the king is
wrong and the Provincials right! that
the latter have my hearty wishes for their
ultimate independence of the crown!'
`I did then give too much meaning to
your words my young friend,' said the
venerable Patriot with a look of disappointment.
`I can condemn the course of England,
and yet remain in her service!'
`True, true! There are others in
your army that do not approve of the
war against us, yet are prepared to
slaughter us?'
`They cannot resign without ruining
themselves or doubtless they would do
so!'
`Is there no other course for them to
take? Is nothing else suggested to
their minds? Must they remain in the
service or sink into beggary? Shall I
speak more plainly? are there not two
sides to this quarrel? are there not two
armies? If one is engaged in a wrong
cause is not the other in a right one?'
Neal listened with surprise. He had
never conceived that the legitimate
fruit of his growing dissatisfaction ought
to be the arming himself in the cause of
freedom. He had not thought of joining
Washington, if he should withdraw from
Howe and the service; or if such ideas
had occurred to him they were vague
and indecisive. His notion was to remain
a quiet spectator of the contest,
thinking he should have done all that
his sense of justice required of him, in
refusing to participate longer in a system
of aggression which he felt was both unjust
and tyrannical.
Such were Neal's feelings when he
received the reproof from his uncle which
had offended his pride. `I will from
this time cease to share in this quarrel.
No gratitude binds me to my uncle!—
No honor binds me to my country's service
in a wicked cause. I will resign
and let the odium of that invasion of the
colonies rest with those who war against
them. I will bear none of it longer on
my conscience!'
It was with such feelings that he left
his presence and sought secretly the
abode of Colonel Park. This gentleman
had been a distinguished officer in
the early French wars and had returned
from the army a few years before the
breaking out of the revolution, and resumed
the practice of the law in Boston.
Here he resided when General Gage then
in command, committed those acts of aggression
upon private property and liberty
which drew upon him the scorn of
all men and raised the spirit of resistance.
Boston was surrounded by an
army and Gage began to fortify the town
to stand a siege. The citizens in alarm
began to fly to the country lest they
should be shut up with the garrison.
At first he permitted them to go after
first stacking their arms in Fanuiel Hall;
but discovering that they conveyed away
a great deal of valuable property beside
provisions, and seeing that each man
would increase the strength of the rebel
forces, he suddenly issued an order forbidding
any more to depart. The promulgation
of this order found a large
number of the citizens still in town, who
were subsequently involved in all the miseries
of the siege of sixteen months which
followed. Among these citizens was
Colonel Parks and his family, which consisted
of a nephew and neice and a maiden
sister. The nephew succeeded afterwards
in effecting his escape and joining
Washington. When this was discovered,
a sentry was placed at the door
of the family mansion. One day not long
after the guard was placed there, Neal
was passing and saw a young and beautiful
girl endeavoring to prevail upon him
to permit her to enter the house. Neal
saw that the soldier was insolent and the
female very much alarmed; for two or
three tipsy young officers were crossing
the street towards her, singing a gay song.
`What means this, fellow?' demanded
Neal of the sentinel.
`I have orders not let any one pass
out without a permit!' answered the man
respectfully, as he recognised the general's
nephew.
`You wish to go in, I believe,' said
Neal, addressing the shrinking and terrified
girl.
`Yes, sir.'
He regarded her an instant with deep
admiration and then said, with courtesy,
`Suffer me to escort you! The soldier
is insolent and shall be arrested.'
He offered her his arm and attended
her to the door of the mansion. The
grateful girl turned and thanked him with
a glanced that thrilled to his soul, and in
a voice that sounded sweeter to his
charmed ears than any music that had
ever fallen upon them.
She was scarcely eighteen, with heavenly
blue eyes, and soft fair hair, and
one of those pure complexions that are
the index of a sunny spirit. She was
slight in person, and airy as a sylph in
her movements. Neal's heart was at
once taken captive. Yet the lovely Anna
Parks was all unconscious of her
power.
`You will be so kind as to come in
and let my uncle thank you, sir,' she
said, in a way that was totally irresistiable.
`I ought not to have gone out
without him; but a poor woman whose
son is in prison on suspicion of having
tried to escape to the army, and who is
in great distress sent for me: and forgetful
of the peril of being abroad I hastended
to her. On my return another soldier
was on duty before the door who refused
to let me enter, when you were so
good as to interpose in my behalf.'
`I am most happy to serve you. The
sentry shall be at once and altogether removed
from your door.'
`I thank you, sir, if you have influence
enough with General Howe!'
`You may depend upon the removal of
this annoyance,' he said very decidedly.
He accepted his invitation to enter the
house, wondering how so much beauty
had been so long secluded in the town
from his view or knowledge. He did
not go in because he wished her father to
be thanked. The gratitude of the lovely
provincial was enough. He wished to
know and see more of her and to learn
who she could be.
The result of all was that he became
a frequent guest at the house of the old
soldier, passing there the hours in which
he absented himself from his quarters.
Colonel Parks soon discovered the worth
and excellency of character in his young
visitor, and conversed with him freely
and truth in all he said. Neal
became a gratified listener, for Anne, in
whom he had discovered a playmate of
his childhood, listened also! In this way
he became acquainted with the great
principles which actuated the Americans,
and convinced of the injustice of England.
Neither father nor daughter used
an argument to bring him over to the
provincial party. Colonel Parks contented
himself with stating facts, leaving
the result to his own mind. Anne had
faith that its final decision would be the
right one.
Colonel Parks was too honorable also
to seek to corrupt the integrity of his
young friend by drawing from him information
that might be useful to Washington;
and Neal was too faithful, while he
remained in the service of the king, to betray
the trust reposed in him.
The visits of Neal to the house of the
provincial were made always by night,
and with caution; for he did not like the
ridicule of the officers, and he feared, too,
that his motives might be misinterpreted
to the injury of the fair girl's good name.
He also did not like to give occasion for
any suspicion to be fastened upon his loyalty.
The withdrawal of the sentry favored
the secrecy of his visits. Colonel
Parks was not blind to the attachment of
the young aid de camp to his niece; nor
that it was reciprocated by her. But he
had no fears of the integrity of the young
man, for whom he himself had conceived
a strong affection.
Affairs remained in this condition up
to the stormy evening on which we accompany
him on his usual visit to the
house of the venerable provincial.
| CHAPTER V.
THE HEROINE. Neal Nelson | |