University of Virginia Library

48. CHAPTER XLVIII.

Breakfast was just over when Robinson was seen, from the windows
of Mrs. Markham's parlor, pricking along the avenue that
conducted to the front of the mansion; and when he drew up his
horse at the door, the family were already assembled there to greet
him. The plight, both of himself and of his steed, was such as to tell
the best part of his story—they had travelled far and seen rough
service. The rest was supplied by the sergeant himself, who, before
he moved from the spot where he had dismounted, gave a narrative
of his adventures, which was listened to with great anxiety by
the household.

By the sergeant's reckoning, Mrs. Markham's residence could
not be more than twenty miles from the place where, at daybreak,
he had encountered the British partisan, whom he had left with a full
conviction that the expedition then on foot was to be directed
against the country lying upon the river. These tidings spread
consternation throughout the mansion, and the morning was passed
in all the confusion which such an alarm might be supposed to
produce. The fright of the females rendered them irresolute, and
incapable of attending to the most obvious precautions necessary to
meet the emergency.

In this conjuncture, Robinson felt himself bound to assume the
direction of affairs. At his suggestion, the plate and such other
valuables as were likely to attract the cupidity of a licentious soldiery,
were secreted in hiding-places sufficiently secure to defy a
hasty search. The family was advised to assume the appearance of
as much composure as they could command; and the last and
most emphatic injunction of the sergeant was, to provide an ample
and various repast, in the hope that the ill-will of the visitants
might be conciliated by the display of good cheer. All this was
accordingly put into a train of accomplishment.

In the midst of these precautions, the fears of the inhabitants of
the mansion were but too truly realized. It was scarcely noon
when the long column of Tarleton's cavalry was descried descending
the high hills that lay in the distance, and, soon afterwards,
taking the road that led into the plantation.

Whilst the panic produced by this sight was still fresh, the sound
of bugles and trumpets showed that the invaders had already turned
their steps towards the dwelling, and the next view disclosed them
deploying from a wood and advancing at a full trot. The quick
beat of hoofs upon the soil, and the jangling sounds of sabres shaken
against the flanks of the horses, struck upon the terrified ear of the
proprietress of the estate like the harsh portents of impending ruin;
and in the despair and agony of her distress, she retreated hastily
to her chamber, whither she summoned her female domestics, and
gave way to a flood of tears. She was followed by Mildred, who,
touched by the pervading disquiet of the family, participated in
the alarm, and found herself overcome by a terror which she had
never before experienced in all the scenes which she had lately
gone through. Obeying the instinct of her present fears, our heroine
cowered beside her weeping friend, in the midst of the group
of clamorous servants, and awaited in mute solicitude the coming
events.

The cavalry had turned aside and halted in front of a barn some
distance from the dwelling-house, and a small party, consisting
principally of officers attended by a sergeant's guard, were immediately
afterwards seen galloping up to the door. The air of exultation
exhibited in their movement, their loud jocularity and
frequent laughter, resembled the burst of gladsome riot with which
a party of fox-hunters are wont to announce the first springing of
their game, and gave evidence of the feelings of men who set little
account upon the annoyance they threatened to a peaceful and
unoffending household.

When the officers of the party had dismounted and entered the
hall, the first person they encountered was Sergeant Robinson, who
had thoughtfully posted himself in view of the door; and now, with
some awkward and ungainly bows and scraping of his feet across
the floor, bade them welcome.

“What,” said Tarleton, who was at the head of the intruders,

“have we stumbled so soon again upon our shrewd and sensible
ox! Wise Master Stephen Foster, well met! So you are the
gentleman-usher to your good friend, Mrs. Markham! By my
faith, the old lady is likely to have the honors of her house well
administered!”

“Your sarvant, sir,” said Horse Shoe, again bowing and scraping
his foot with a look of imperturbable gravity. “Mought I ax
your honor to stomp as lightly upon the floor as you can?
My young lady is sick up stairs—and much noise is apt to flurry
her narves.”

“Tread daintily, gentlemen,” said Tarleton, laughing, “for your
gallantry's sake! A lady's nerves are as delicate as the strings of
a harp, and must not be rudely struck. The damsel's page here
(pointing to Horse Shoe), puts down his foot like a most considerate
elephant—soft as a feather, you perceive; and I would by no
means have you give so worshipful a master of courtesy cause to
complain of you. As your wisdom,” he added, again addressing
the sergeant, “has found out, by this time, that you are in the
house of Mrs. Markham, although you disremembered that this
morning, I suppose you can tell whether she is at home?”

“I can answer you that she is at home, sir—that is, onless she
has went out sence I saw her, which is not likely, sir.”

“Then, present her Colonel Tarleton's respects, and say that he
has come to offer his duty to her.”

“I suppose by that, you are wishing to see the lady,” replied the
sergeant; “I'll let her know, sir.”

Robinson retired for a few moments, and when he returned he
announced to the commander that Mrs Markham was not willing
to come from her chamber. “But whatsomever your honor pleases
to ax after, the lady promises you shall have,” continued the sergeant.

“Well, that's a condescension!—a good, comfortable lady!
So, gentlemen, you see we are in luck; a broad roof over head—
a larder well stored, I hope—and a cellar not altogether empty, I
think I may undertake to promise. Where are your waiting-men,
my nimble Ganymede? You are a sluggish oaf, fellow, not to
see that soldiers must have drink!”

Alfred and Henry now entered the hall, and the former approaching
Tarleton, said, with a firm but respectful tone:

“My mother has before been visited by British troops, and she
had so little then to thank them for, except their departure, that
the fear of meeting them again has greatly alarmed her. Our family,
sir, has no older man in it than myself—and out of regard to
helpless women—”

“That's enough, my pert lad,” interrupted Tarleton; “I have
heard of your good mother before; she is somewhat over ready in
her zeal in behalf of Marion's ragamuffins: and truly I think she
is more squeamish than she should be at the sight of a soldier, when
she could look upon such hang-gallows knaves without shuddering.
You have another man in your house, I see (directing his eye
towards Henry Lindsay, who had seated himself in the hall)—and
full as old, I take it, as yourself.”

“I wish I were a man of full age,” said Henry, looking fearlessly
at the British officer, and remaining fixed in his chair.

“Why so, my gay sparrow-hawk?”

“I would have disputed with you your right to enter this door.”

“These young cocks are all trained to show their game,” said
the Colonel to one of his companions. “Well, you are a fine fellow,
and I should be happy to be better acquainted with you. A
little too stiff, perhaps: but you will learn better as you grow older.
You should thank me for making holiday in your school to-day.”

Here Robinson interposed before Henry could make the saucy
reply he meditated, by announcing that the company would find
some cool water and a supply of spirits in the adjoining room.
“Besides,” he added, “I have told the house-folks to make ready
somewhat in the way of victuals, as I judged you mought be a little
hungry.”

“Not badly thought of, Mr. Ajax!” said one of the officers, as
the party now crowded into the room.

“Don't forget Stephen Foster,” whispered Robinson, by way of
admonition in regard to his assumed character, as he passed by
the chair where Henry was sitting. “And keep a civil tongue in
your head.”

Henry nodded compliance, and then, with Alfred, left the hall,
whilst the sergeant repaired to the refreshment room to offer his
officious attentions to the guests.

Meanwhile, the ladies still kept to their chamber, ever and anon

gazing out at the window with a solicitous and unhappy interest,
and occasionally receiving the highly-colored reports of the servants,
who, as often as any new subject of wonder or fear occurred
to them, were plying backwards and forwards between the apartment
and the head of the staircase.

After an interval of half an hour, during which the uncouth din
of laughter, of loud oaths, and of the careless swaggering of the
party below, rose with a harsh note to the ear of the hostess and
her companion, these sounds abruptly ceased, and it was evident
that the visitors had quitted the house. It was with an emotion
of delight that Mrs. Markham, from the window, beheld Colonel
Tarleton and his comrades galloping towards the main body of his
troops that awaited him near the barn; but, on repairing to the
hall, this sudden gleam of satisfaction was as suddenly clouded,
when the matron perceived a sentinel posted at the front door.
As soon as she came within speech of this functionary, he threw
up his hand to his brow, as he said: “The colonel commanded me
to make his compliments to the ladies, and asks the honor of their
company at dinner.”

“Colonel Tarleton forgets himself,” said Mrs. Markham, with a
stately reserve that showed she had now dismissed her fears; “a
brave soldier would hardly think it a triumph to insult unprotected
females.”

“He is here to speak for himself, madam,” replied the sentinel,
as Tarleton at this moment returned to the door.

The lady of the house, thus taken by surprise, firmly stood her
ground, and awaited in silence the accost of the officer. Tarleton
was somewhat disconcerted by this unexpected encounter. He had
entered with a hurried step, but the moment he was aware of the
presence of the dame, he halted and removed his cap from his
head, as he made a low obeisance.

“I am too happy, madam,” he said, “in the persuasion that you
have overcome your unnecessary alarm at this visit; and feel
pleased to be afforded an opportunity of making my respects in
person.”

“I can conceive no sufficient reason, Colonel Tarleton, why a
defenceless house like mine should provoke the visit of such a host
of armed men.”

“Your house, madam, has some fame upon this border for good
entertainment. It fell in my way, and you will excuse me for the
freedom of saying, that I boast myself too much of a cavalier to
pass it by unmarked by some token of my regard. Besides, I may
add without meaning to be rude, our necessities in the article of
forage, madam, are quite as great as General Marion's, who, I
understand, does not scruple sometimes to take his contribution
from you.”

“I should more readily excuse your visit,” replied the lady, “if
you would time it when General Marion was levying his contribution.
You might then adjust your right to the share you claim.
This house is yours, sir; and it is not fit that I should remain
to debate with you your claim to dispose of whatever you may
find in it.”

“Why, what a musty and wrinkled piece of insolence is here!”
muttered the angry soldier, clenching his teeth under this rebuke
as the matron withdrew. “Well, let the crones rail and the
maidens weep their fill! the border is mine, and merrily will I hold
it, and blithely will I light up the river, too, before I leave it!
Curse on these free-spoken women! Who says they are defenceless
with that supple weapon that God has given them? What ho, you
bag of chaff—booby—Foster—I say! Look you; have you all the
provisions in the house set out upon the tables—and don't spare
your peach brandy, which we have already tasted—you have
more of it. So let us have the best; I shall feast with a good
will to-day, and I will do it plentifully, or your ears shall be
cropped.”

“Everything in the kitchen, sir, is going on at a gallop,” said
Horse Shoe; “and as for the drinkables, your honor shall command
the house to the last jug.”

“Then bestir yourself, for I am in no mood to tarry.”

In a brief lapse of time an abundant board was spread, and the
leaders of the corps, consisting of some twenty or thirty officers of
all ranks, were gathered around it. A scene of uproar succeeded
that resounded to the roof with the unfeeling and licentious
mirth of those engaged in the carouse.

When they had eaten and drunk their fill, the greater portion
of the guests were assembled at the front door. From this position

there was to be seen, at no great distance, a small inclosure of not
above ten feet square, constructed with a dark paling, above which
a venerable willow drooped its branches. Towards this inclosure
some five or six of the reveilers repaired, to gratify an idle and, at
present, a maudlin curiosity. When they arrived here, they leaned
across the paling to read the inscription upon a stone that seemed
but recently to have been placed there. It was a simple memorial
of the death of Colonel Markham, of the Carolina militia, which
was recorded to have taken place but eighteen months before on
the Savannah river in an engagement with the troops under General
Prevost. To this was added, in the spirit of the times and in
accordance with the sentiments of the Whig leaders in the war of
independence, a bitter expression of censure upon the barbarous
disposition of the enemy, couched in homely but earnest phrase,
and speaking the hate of the survivors in the same sentence that
commended the virtues of the dead.

It was an unpropitious moment for such a tablet to meet the eye
of those who gazed upon it; and when it was read aloud by the
captain of a troop, whose natural temper, rendered savage by the
rudeness of the war, was also at this moment exasperated almost to
intoxication by the freedom of the table, he vented his curses in
loud and coarse rage against the memory of him to whom the
stone was dedicated. This fire of passion spread through the
group around the tomb, and each man responded to the first execration
by others still deeper and more fierce. Proclaiming the
inscription to be an insult, they made an attack upon the paling,
which was instantly demolished, and, seizing upon the largest
stones at hand, they assailed the tablet with such effect as soon to
break it in pieces; and then, with a useless malice, applied themselves
to obliterating the inscription upon the fragments. Whilst
engrossed with the perpetration of this sacrilege, their attention
was suddenly aroused by the near report of a pistol, the ball of
which, it was discovered, had struck into the trunk of the willow.

“I will kill some of the scoundrels, if I die for it!” was the
exclamation heard immediately after the shot, and Alfred Markham
was seen struggling with an officer who had seized him.
The young man had been observed and followed, as he madly
rushed from a wing of the mansion towards the burial-place,

and arrested at the moment that he was levelling a second
pistol.

“Henry, shoot him down!” he screamed to his companion, who
was now approaching armed with his carbine.

“Let me go, sir! I will not see my father's tomb disturbed by
ruffians.”

“Loose your hands!” cried Henry, directing his passionate
defiance to the individual who wrestled with Alfred, “loose your
hands, I say, or I will fire upon you!”

“Fire at the drunken villains around my father's grave!” shouted
Alfred.

“They shall have it,” returned Henry, eagerly, “if it is the last
shot I ever make.” And with these words the youth levelled his
piece at the same group which had before escaped Alfred's aim,
but, luckily, the carbine snapped and missed fire. In the next
instant Horse Shoe's broad hand was laid upon Henry's shoulder,
as he exclaimed, “Why, Master Henry, have you lost your wits?
Do you want to bring perdition and combustion both, down upon
the heads of the whole house?”

“Galbraith Robinson, stand back!” ejaculated Henry. “I am
not in the humor to be baulked.”

“Hush—for God's sake, hush!—foolish boy,” returned Robinson
with real anger. “You are as fierce as a young panther—I am
ashamed of you!”

By this time the whole company were assembled around the
two young men, and the violent outbreak of wrath from those at
whom the shot was aimed, as well as from others present, rose to
a pitch which the authority of Tarleton in vain sought to control.
Already, in this paroxysm of rage, one of the party, whose motions
had escaped notice in the confusion of the scene, had hurried to
the kitchen fire, where he had snatched up a burning brand, and
hurled it into the midst of some combustibles in a narrow apartment
on the ground floor.

The clamor had drawn Mrs. Markham and Mildred to the
chamber window, and whilst they looked down with a frightened
gaze upon the confused scene below, it was some moments before
they became aware of the participation of Henry and Alfred in
this sudden and angry broil. Mildred was the first to discern the

two young men as they were dragged violently across the open
space in front of the mansion by the crowd, and to hear the threats
with which this movement was accompanied.

“Mereiful Heaven!” she exclaimed, “they have laid hands upon
Henry and Alfred—they will kill my brother, my dear brother!”
Almost frantic at the danger that threatened Henry and his companion,
she fled precipitately down the stair-case, and in a moment
stood confronted with Colonel Tarleton and his soldiers.

“Never fear, sister,” cried out Henry, who was already brought
into the hall, as he saw Mildred descending the stairs. “Don't be
alarmed for either Alfred or me. We are ready to confess what
we did and why we did it—and Colonel Tarleton, if he is a true
man, will not dare to say we did wrong.”

“I charge you, Colonel Tarleton,” said Mildred with a firm but
excited voice, “as the soldier of a Christian nation, to save the
people of this house from an inhuman and most wicked outrage.
I implore you as an officer who would be esteemed valiant—and
as a gentleman who would fly from dishonor—to rescue your
name from the disgrace of this barbarous violence. For the sake
of mercy—spare us—spare us!”

As she uttered this last ejaculation her spirit yielded to the vehemence
of her feelings, and she flung herself upon her knee at the
feet of the commander. “Oh, sir, do not let harm fall upon my
brother. I know not what he has done, but he is thoughtless and
rash.”

“Mildred,” said Henry, immediately rushing to his sister, and
lifting her from the floor, “why should you kneel before him, or
any man here? This is no place for you—get back to your
room.” Then turning to Tarleton, he continued, “Alfred Markham
and I tried to shoot down your men, because we saw them breaking
the tomb. If it was to do over again our hands are ready.”

“They have insulted the memory of my father,” exclaimed
Alfred, “trampled upon his grave, and broken the stone that
covers him—I aimed to kill the drunken coward who did it. That
I say, sir, to your face.”

Tarleton, for a space, seemed to be bewildered by the scene. He
looked around him, as if hesitating what course to pursue, and
once or twice made an effort to obtain silence in the hall; but the

tumult of many voices in angry contention still continued. At last
he presented his hand to Mildred, and with a courteous action conducted
her to a chair, then begged her to calm her fears, as he
promised her that no evil should befal either of the young men
whose indiscreet tempers had occasioned the present uproar.

“In God's name! have they fired the dwelling?” he exclaimed,
as at this moment a volume of smoke rolled into the hall. “What
ho, there! O'Neal, McPherson. Look where this smoke comes
from, and instantly extinguish the fire! Stir yourselves, gentlemen.
By my hilt, if any follower of mine has been so wild as to put a
torch to this house, I will hang him up to the ridge-pole of the
roof! Look to it—every man! Quick, quick—there is danger
that the flames may get ahead.”

In an instant nearly every soldier in the hall departed in obedience
to this order.

“I beg, madam,” Tarleton continued, “that you will dismiss
your alarm, and rest upon my pledge that no inmate of this house
shall be harmed. I conjecture that I have the honor to speak to
Miss Lindsay—I have been informed that that lady has lately
found shelter under this roof.”

“It is my name, sir—and as the daughter of a friend to your
quarrel, let me conjure you to see that this house is safe; I cannot
speak with you until I am assured of that.”

At this juncture, Mrs. Markham was observed at the head of the
first flight of stairs, pale with affright, wringing her hands, and
uttering loud ejaculations of terror and grief as she made her way
down to the hall:

“Oh, sir,” she said, as she approached the commander, “we are
harmless women, and have done nothing to call down this vengeance
upon us. Take what you will—but spare my roof and
save my family! God will reward you even for that act of
humanity to a desolate widow.”

Before Tarleton could reply to the matron, a party of officers
came hastily into his presence, at the head of whom was Captain
O'Neal, who reported that the fire was extinguished.

“One of the mess, to-day,” he said, “heated with drink and
roused by the foolish temper of these hot-headed boys, threw a

blazing billet into a closet. Luckily, we reached the spot before
any great harm was done. The chaps should be switched, and
taught better manners. It was a silly affair and might have made
mischief.”

“See that the offender be arrested,” replied Tarleton, “I will
take measures to curb this license. These meddling youngsters,
too—however, I can't blame them, they had provocation, I confess—and
this war gives an edge to all the metal of the country.
Instead of pop-guns now every baby has his powder and ball—
dismiss the boys. To your post, captain, and order every man to
join his company. Now, madam,” he added in a tone of conciliation
to Mrs. Markham, as soon as the hall was cleared, “I am
sure you will not accuse me of incivility. My people have withdrawn—the
fire is extinguished—these inconsiderate lads at liberty:
have I answered your wish?”

“You have won the gratitude of a mother,” replied the dame,
“and the respect of an enemy. I am bound to say to you, in
return, that I cheerfully surrender to you whatever you may
choose to take from my estate for the supply of your soldiers.
Alfred, my son, give me your arm, and help me to my chamber—
I am feeble and faint. I must ask your permission to withdraw,”
she continued, as she courtesied to Tarleton, and ascended the
stairs.

“And I, too, must take my leave,” said Tarleton. “But before
I go I may claim the privilege of a word with Miss Lindsay. You
spoke of your father, madam? and, especially, as a friend of our
arms. I have been told he lives in Virginia, Philip Lindsay, the
proprietor of a seat called `The Dove Cote,' a royalist too—am I
right?”

“So, my father is known, sir.”

“That name has stood you in stead to-day, madam. And this
is your brother? I should think he is hardly of your father's
mind in regard to our quarrel. This way, my thoughtless young
gallant! It was a wild, bold, and very conceited thing of you to
be challenging my unruly dragoons—and would have been no less
so, if you had had twenty score of tall fellows at your back. But
it is past now, and you need not apologize for it—it showed mettle
at least, and we never quarrel with a man for that. May I

inquire, Miss Lindsay, in what direction you travel? for I learn
you are but a sojourner here. It may be in my power to insure
your safe-conduct.”

“I seek your general, Lord Cornwallis, on matters of private
concern,” replied Mildred, “and if I might venture to ask it of
Colonel Tarleton, his service in affording me an unquestioned
passage, would be a favor that I should gratefully acknowledge.”

“The obligation will be on my side, madam. It will be a pleasure
to me to believe that I can serve a lady, much more the
daughter of an honorable subject of the king. Permit me, without
further parley, for time presses at this moment, to say that I
will leave an escort behind me under the command of a trusty
officer, who will wait your pleasure to conduct you, by the safest
and easiest journey to head-quarters. Your commands, madam,
shall in all respects regulate his motions. My communications with
his lordship shall announce your coming. Now, Miss Lindsay,
with my best wishes for your safety and success, I take my leave;
and, as a parting request, I venture to hope you will do me the
justice to say, that Tarleton is not such a graceless sinner as his
enemies have sometimes been pleased to represent him.”

These last words were accompanied by a laugh, and a somewhat
bluff courtesy, as the speaker swayed his rigid and ungainly figure
into a succession of awkward bows by which he retreated to the
door.

“I shall be happy on all occasions,” replied Mildred, whilst the
soldier was thus strenuously playing off the graces of a gallant,
“to do justice to the kindness which I have experienced at Colonel
Tarleton's hands.”

“There, Mildred,” said Henry, when Tarleton had disappeared,
“you see things have gone very pat for us. That comes of letting
these fellows see who they have to deal with. A little powder and
ball is a good letter of recommendation to the best of their gang.
If my carbine hadn't missed fire to-day, Tarleton would have been
short by one bottle-holder, at least, when he set out to steal liquor
from the country cupboards.”

“It has ended well, brother,” replied Mildred, “but it does not
become you to boast of what you have done. It was a rash and

dangerous deed, and had nearly brought ruin upon this friendly
family.”

“Tut, sister! you are only a woman. You wouldn't have found
the colonel so civil if we hadn't taught him to look after his men.”