University of Virginia Library

6. CHAPTER VI.

It was a soft and balmy evening, in that loveliest
of all months of the year in our northern clime, delightful
June, when two ladies were seen issuing
from the Hendee cottage, to wander abroad, to enjoy
the beauties of the evening, and hold, in the solitudes
of the fields, that confidential communion on
subjects of mutual concern, which is ever so interesting
to friends, who have just met after a long separation.
One was in height something above the
ordinary standard of women, but with a form as
faultless as the chisselled marble. Her carriage and
general demeanor, though easy and graceful, were
yet not of that light and joyous kind, which generally
bespeaks corresponding lightness of heart, but
were marked, rather, by that serious, drooping east,
that tells of secret cares and sorrows; while an air
of deep and pensive thoughtfulness rested in her
dark blue eyes, and overspread her somewhat pale,
though exquisitely moulded features. The other
female was a trifle smaller, and as volatile as a child
in her movements. The very reverse of her companion,

she seemed to be the creature of joyous impulses.
Though both possessed far more than an
ordinary share of personal beauty, yet their beauty
was of an entirely different order: for while the appearance
of the former was calm, intellectual and
commanding, that of the latter was sprite-like and
playful, partaking largely of that certain prettiness,
that eccentric, will o' wisp sort of witchery, which
men generally pursue eagerly rather than worship
profoundly. They were both old acquaintances of
the reader, and we will, therefore, allow them to announce
themselves by the conversation that now ensued
between them.

`Now tell me, Alma,' said the smaller girl, `for,
in spite of all the dogged silence you have shown in
your letters on the subject, I determined I would
know the first time I saw you—tell me, I say, what
was the true reason of your dismissing Warrington?'

`There are some things, Jessy,' replied the other,
`which involve such imputations on our own prudence
and discernment, and are, of themselves, so
humiliating to our feelings, that we can hardly bring
ourselves even in thought to recur to them,—much
less to reveal them to others. And this is the main
reason why I have never apprised you of the fact
you seek to know.'

`Yes, but I shall not let you off on such a reason,
you may depend upon it. Come, come, girl, I will
be your confessor, and the more crossing to your
feelings the confession, why the more it will be for
your good, if the Catholic priests are in the right of
it.'

`No, Jessy, let us forget the subject: I would not
again disturb my feelings by recalling to mind the
man who once caused me so much sorrow. It is

enough to say that I was grossly deceived in his
character.'

`Deceived! How deceived?—now I tell you, Alma
Hendee, I will know, and, as I am to live with
you till father returns from England, I will thorn you
night and day, till you tell me.'

`Well, then, Jessy, if you must know, the cause
of my discarding him was the best of all causes;
because he could never be lawfully mine: for,
wherever his heart may have been, his hand belonged
to another. And while he was vowing his heart
to me, he was the husband of a living wife in Connecticut.
What say you to a deception like that,
Jessy?'

`Why, monster!—if so—but how know you that
fact, Alma?'

`I received intimations of it from various sources,
which I disbelieved, when a man called here who
was well acquainted with Warrington's whole career,
and he confirmed all that I had heard.'

`Warrington—the high-minded, and brave Colonel
Warrington, guilty of baseness like that?—impossible!
Are you quite sure that there is not some
mistake, or some intended deception, about this, Alma?'

`Yes, yes,—think not that, with my unbounded
confidence in the man, I should have been brought
to believe this easily. And Oh! if you knew what
the discovery cost me!'

`But did you apprise him of this discovery?'

`No!'

`Why?'

`Simply, because, as I was fully satisfied of the
fact, all attempted explanations would not only fail
to mend the matter, but make it worse, by continuing

a correspondence which would be ruinous to me,
and disgraceful to us both.'

`Alma Hendee, I can hardly believe this strange
story. I fear you have been deceived. I wish I
had known it before. Neither Colonel Warrington,
nor Captain Selden, have the least idea that such
were your reasons for the sudden, and, to them, unaccountable
step you took. I have conversed with
them both on the subject; and they both believe, I
imagine, that you were either coerced by your father,
or were laboring under some misapprehension.
Mr. Selden, I know, believes this; and he told me
on our way here, that if you would keep yourself
from becoming entangled with Sherwood, the affair
might yet be reconciled between you and the Colonel,
who yet cherishes for you all his former sentiments.'

`It never will be reconciled, however, Jessy.'

`Why, you have not seriously determined to marry
Sherwood, have you?'

`I can hardly bring myself, I own, to think seriously
of such a sacrifice,' said Alma, mournfully.
`I certainly never should harbor the thought a moment,
if I had now any other object to live for, than
to render my infirm and embarrassed father as happy
as possible. This I see but one way of doing.
And as my own hopes of happiness are gone, should
it not now be my duty to attend to his in the only
way I can accomplish it? At best it is but a dark
and dreary prospect that lies before me, Jessy. And
let us turn from it now to your own, which has at
least hope to brighten it.'

`Yes, hope, faith and resolution, come what will,
except such a damper as you received. By the way,
Alma, did not you think that your father was a good

deal taken with Selden for so brief an acquaintance
as his short stay with us to day afforded?'

`I did, indeed, and with great pleasure, notice it.
And well my father might be pleased with him; for
I now know no gentleman whom I'—

`Take care! take care!' briskly interrupted the
vivacious Jessy. `Be cautious how far you proceed
with your praises, Miss!'

`I will be moderate rather than alarm you, then,'
replied Alma, smiling.

`Well, see that you are; or I'll be jealous as sure
as you live. Besides, I don't care a fig about obtaining
your praises for him. But Captain Hendee's
good opinion of him is a point gained with me; for
my father, you know, has placed me, and my destinies,
too, for aught I know, in the Captain's hands
for the present. I wish I could get a peep at that
letter of instructions, as I suppose it was, which I
brought from my father to yours. What cautious
old things these papas are about us girls, are they
not, now?'

`Your father, then, suspects your attachment—
does he?'

`Why, that is what I am myself puzzled to decide.
Selden contrived right cunningly to get introduced
to my father, soon after the old gentleman arrived at
Albany, where the Green Mountain troops, with their
officers, have been posted the past season, you know.
They have since met several times, and by the fact
of my being entrusted to Selden's care in coming
on here, I know father considers him a man of honor
at least. But whether he has ever suspected the
truth about us, I have been wholly unable to ascertain.
If he has, and disapproves it, he has studied
out some sly, indirect way of breaking up the connection,

without recourse to open opposition, which,
I have often heard him say, made ten matches where
it broke one.'

`But did not Major Skene, after his exchange
and return, or his sisters, inform Colonel Reed of
their suspicion, most probably?'

`They would have done so, perhaps, had they
continued as jealous as at first, but since my engagement
with Selden we have both acted in concert to
blind them, and I think they are in the dark themselves.'

`And how have you disposed of the Major, in the
meanwhile?'

`I laughed him out of countenance—jeered and
joked him about his valor at Skenesboro' before the
officers, ridiculed him in every way I could devise,
till at last the fellow became so sore under the torment,
that he fairly avoided me, as if I had been a
viper, and that is the way I advise you to take with
your eternal hanger on, who, like the Major, was
never man enough to cease his attentions when he
knew they were not agreeable. But where is Sherwood
now?'

`We don't know. He has been absent several
weeks. He told us he was going to Albany. You
heard nothing of him there, did you?'

`No! but if he was there, he would hardly show
himself in public, I think. Did you know they
strongly suspected him of being a tory?'

`I knew not that he was suspected by others. But
from his standing aloof from the contest, when our
bleeding country required the aid of every friend,
from the character of his associates, and among the
rest that despicable Darrow, and more especially from
one or two secret journeys, which I feel satisfied he

has lately made into Canada, I have for sometime
known that he was any thing but an American patriot.'

By this time our fair friends, having wandered
down the slope towards the lake, had reached the
shore, and seated themselves on a little grassy elevation
near the landing, where they were about to
resume their conversation, when a skiff, containing
three men, whose approach from the south had been
screened from their sight by intervening bushes,
made its appearance, and put in for the shore. The
girls instantly arose, and were hastily retiring, when
they were hailed by the leader of the party, after he
had risen in his boat, and looked intently a moment
at those on shore. On turning round, Alma at once
recognized him to be the tall woodsman, with whom
she first became acquainted as the messenger of
Warrington.

`If you'll agree not to be scart much at such a
beauty as I be, gals,' said Pete, leaping ashore and
striding up the bank, `I should like well enough to
have one of you stop running away long enough to
have me tell you what one of you wants, that is if I
havn't forgot the face that used to belong to her.'

Jones, now advancing to the spot from which the
girls, with hesitating steps, were slowly retreating,
pulled out a soiled and crumpled letter, and offered
it to Alma. But the latter, supposing it to be from
Warrington, shook her head, and declined receiving
it.

`Well, now!' said the scout, a little disconcerted
at the unexpected refusal: `by hoky! if this an't
the first time I ever knew a body that wouldn't take
a letter that belonged to 'em! Well, I've done all

that the fellow, who asked me to bring it, could expect
of me, I consider.'

`From whom did you receive the letter, sir?' asked
Jessy, who easily apprehended the reasons of her
friend for declining to receive it.

`Well, now, marm,' replied Jones, scratching his
head, `that is asking a notch more than I am very
well able to answer. I partly hinted to the man to
tell me his name, but he kinder screwed round in his
talk so that he kept clear of telling me. Howsomever,
it was an honest looking fellow enough, that I
fell in with at Skenesboro,' where we stopped for
breakfast, this morning.'

`O, it is not from any in the army, then,' rejoined
Jessy, throwing a significant look at her companion,
intended to convey a sly joke for her over cautiousness.

`Any in the army?' said Jones, repeating the
words of the other, as he began to assume his old
comic twist of features, `no, unless you might call
him a kettle drummer; for now I think on't when
we first came into the house where we found him,
he was at it hammer and tongs upon an old brass
kettle, making clatter enough to crazy a small nation.'

`I beg your pardon, Mr. Jones,' said Alma, courteously,
`I was under a misapprehension in regard
to the source of this letter—I will receive it now;
sir, if you please; and thank you kindly for your
trouble in bringing it,' she added, extending her
hand and taking the proffered paper.

`Are you direct from Albany, sir?' asked Miss
Reed, preparatory to some other question, apparently.

`We started from there about twelve last night,

and in a bit of a hurry, too,' replied the scout, turning
and looking upon the face of his fair interrogator,
whom he now for the first time seemed to recognize.
`Why, now, if I an't beat, to find that queer
fighting bird again—beg pardon, marm—I didn't
mean it for offence; for I don't calculate to be very
sarcy to folks, excepting to the Britishers. And I
kinder guess you an't very stiff for that side after all,
or you wouldn't allow yourself to be caught by the
Green Mountain Boys so easy and often.'

It was Jessy's turn to be disconcerted now, and
blushing to the very temples, she turned confusedly
away, and pretended to be looking for wild strawberries
in the grass, while Alma, smiling to see the
discomfiture of her friend at the honest but sly hit involved
in the remark of the woodsman, now addressing
the latter, asked,

`Has any late intelligence of the enemy's movements
been received at head quarters, that has caused
you to be dispatched in this direction so hastily?'

`I rather expect there has, marm.'

`Any threatened invasion? I know there have
been fears of one, from Canada, but hearing nothing
of it lately, we had begun to believe it a false rumour.'

After looking Alma earnestly in the face an instant,
Jones motioned her to step a little further from
her companion, when in a low tone he observed to
her,

`You used to be true blue—I wonder if you are
now?'

`If you mean a friend to your cause, who can be
trusted, you may count me as one.'

`I rather thought so—well, we fear there will be
hot work in this quarter in a very few days from this.

A British deserter, who was taken up over on Winooski
River, and sent on by Captain Baker, arrived
at head quarters yesterday, and gave us the information
that General Burgoyne with an army of ten
thousand men has already reached St. Johns on his
way through this settlement to Albany, if he can get
there. Colonel Warrington and his regiment of
Green Mountain Boys were to march this morning
to reinforce St. Clair at Ticonderoga. And General
Schuyler's whole army, before this, are on the
move for Fort Edward, as the place where the
grand tussle is to be had, if the enemy are not stopped
before. I, and my scouts in the boat there, are
now on our way to reconnoiter, and watch the progress
of the Reglars as they come on. Now, this
last part of it you must keep dark about to all where
there is the least chance of its getting into the wind.
If I get along back as far as here, I will try to call,
and let you and the folks in this quarter know when
the enemy may be expected, that you may all be out
of the way before they arrive. But I must be off;
for we must row ten good miles further to-night, before
we encamp. Good nighty, marm.'

Having given this exciting piece of information,
imparted with more seriousness and directness of
manner, than any thing of equal length he had uttered,
perhaps, for years, Jones turned on his heel,
bounded forward to the shore, and leaped into the
boat, which the next instant shot by the landing and
disappeared.

Knowing that the scout's secret would be as safe
with her companion as with herself, Alma immediately
called her, and repeated the startling news she
had just received. And the solicitude and trembling
apprehensions which filled the bosom of each, as

they thought of their respective friends in connection
with the approaching danger, for awhile swallowed
up every other feeling. Even the letter, the delivery
of which had occasioned the call of the scouts,
was forgotten, till the girls had retraced their steps
more than half the distance to the house. It being
then recalled, however, Miss Hendee seated herself
on a hillock, opened and began reading it, with an
air of listlesss curiosity, which showed how little
she expected to be interested in its contents, while
Jessy knelt before her on the grass, watching the varying
expressions, from simple curiosity to eager interest,
and from that to deep emotion, which successively
passed over the countenance of the other
as she proceeded in the perusal. The letter was
without signature, and ran thus:

The first feeling that pervaded the bosom of Miss
Hendee, on reading this humble epistle, the truth

and genuineness of which she found it impossible
to doubt, was that of unmingled indignation at the
base and detestable conduct of the man who had
instigated the deception that had been practiced upon
her with such complete success. The whole of
that transaction, together with all the dark hints and
warnings she had previously received from her acquaintance,
now stood explained before her. She
found no difficulty in tracing all to the same source,
and she saw at once the motives which had actuated
the subtle author of this piece of refined villany
in the course he had pursued. Her next feeling
was that of deep and unfeigned regret, for the injustice
she had unintentionally done one, whom, but
for this erroneous belief, she would have held, of all
on earth, the most dear and honored. At last came
the heart's rich gushings of returning love. And
from the overpowering force of these mingled emotions,
she sat down and wept like a child.