University of Virginia Library

44. CHAPTER XLIV.
NOBILITY IN DISGUISE.

Gertrude had not seen Hadley since her first and only interview
with him in Toronto; she did not know whether he was in Kingston
or elsewhere, and she could not but feel the greatest solicitude
lest he might have entirely abandoned the cause to which he
had been pledged, and for which his aid was so essential. Of his
visit to Harry she as yet knew nothing, for it had taken place
after her departure for Ogdensburgh, and she prepared at once to
visit the prisoner, both to learn from him if he had yet seen their
powerful ally, and to impart to him the encouragement which her
success thus far was calculated to inspire. But before doing this,
she addressed a note to Hadley, in pursuance of a preconcerted
plan, in which she informed him of her return to the city, and of
her place of sojourn, and obscurely hinted at the favorable result
of her mission, to which she did not dare allude in express terms,
lest her letter might fall into other hands than those for which it
was designed.

For the same reason she was afraid to name the place at which
he could meet Johnson, however vaguely she might speak of the
man, or the object of the appointment.

But she wrote that “the man whom he desired to see” was in
town, and that she would give his name and address to any messenger
bearing a token from Mr. b—, by which she should
know that he was authorized to receive them. Gertrude took
this precaution because she feared that her distinguished friend,

although he might be in the city, and anxious to aid her, would
not be willing to increase the suspicion which he must in any
event incur, by having an interview with her so recently before
the dénoûment of the daring plot. She knew it would be almost
impossible for a person of his celebrity to visit her at the hotel,
however briefly, without it becoming known, and being made a
subject of comment, for her own relation to the condemned
prisoner, and her merciful, but supposed fruitless errand in Canada,
were well known to many a sympathizing inmate of the house in
which she sojourned.

Her letter, without external address, was sealed and enclosed
in an envelope, on which she endorsed a name unknown to her, but
which she had received from Hadley, and had carefully preserved
for its present use.

This mysterious epistle, containing neither the name of the
writer, nor of the person intended to be addressed, having been
dispatched to the city post-office, Miss Van Kleeck hastened to a
more painful and exciting duty.

It was necessary that her visit to Harry should be brief, to
enable her to return home in time to receive the expected messenger
from Hadley, who might come at any hour.

Garret accompanied her as before, and, as before, she saw her
unfortunate friend only through the grated door of his cell. The
reflection that, if the hazardous scheme of rescue failed, there
remained only two days of life for the young and vigorous man
who stood chained between the strong walls of that dark and narrow
room, scarcely less dark and narrow than that dread abode
which it seemed to typify, imparted an agonizing interest to the
brief interview which ensued. They would meet there but once
more, and on that momentous morrow which was either to break
down the barriers between these separated friends, or was to
establish others which only the Archangel's trump could remove.
Let us draw a veil over these harrowing scenes.

Hurriedly and with whispered words they conversed, and
although each had encouraging tidings to impart (Gertrude of
the success of her mission, and Vrail of Hadley's visit), they stood
too close within the shadows of that awful Future which they
could not fail to contemplate, to admit of infusing anything like
inspiriting hope into the breast of either.

In that Golgotha-like building, where the vacant cells seemed
yet vocal with the last farewell of their slaughtered inmates, and
where airy forms seemed to flit, beckoning, along the dark and
silent corridors, what room was there for cheering influences, or
for bright anticipations? But they talked of hope, and concealed,
as far as possible, their doubts and misgivings; and Gertrude,
before departing, promised her friend that she would see him
again the next morning, when she hoped to have further and more
encouraging tidings to impart.

Returned to the sunlight of the outer day, Gertrude felt something
of its reviving influence, and upwards through the shining
highway rose the unspoken orisons of her gentle soul, to that celestial
city where man's great Intercessor hears the prayer of faith.

Notwithstanding her visit had been brief, and although she
hastened back to her hotel as rapidly as the driver of her waiting
carriage could be induced to proceed, she was too late to see the
bearer of a note from Hadley, which she found awaiting her return.
Yet, encouraged by the speedy answer, indicating the vicinity and
the vigilance of her ally, she hastily broke the seal, and read only
the following words, without date or signature:

“I will see you at seven in the evening, in your own room.
Your cousin may be present.”

She counted the hours until then, and punctual at the appointed
time, a visitor was announced. She received with trembling
eagerness the card, which bore an unknown name, and which was
quickly followed by a person whom she believed, at first, to be
equally strange to her.

Closely muffled in a cloak of no existing fashion, slightly stooping,
as if with decrepitude, and leaning upon a heavy cane, the
visitor entered the room, and casting a hasty glance around it, to
see that no one was present but those whom he had appointed to
meet, he closed and locked the door. He next threw off his
faded cloak and his slouched hat, and resuming an erect position,
the transformed and handsome young man quickly advanced to
Gertrude, with extended hand, and with his usual winning smile.

“You will excuse me for coming to you in this manner,” he
said, “since you know the necessity for caution. Before I say more,
let me ask if this gentleman”—

“He is my cousin of whom I spoke to you; you need not fear
to speak freely before him.”

Hadley bowed to Van Vrank, and continued,

“Tell me, then, quickly, if you have succeeded in your errand
to the States. Your note speaks of but one man, and you have
returned so soon, that I feared”—

“Fear nothing on my part,” replied Gertrude, promptly, and
with a sudden flashing of the eyes. “I have seven strong men
bound almost by an oath to do this deed, and at their head a man
who is himself a host in strength, and skill, and courage. He is
now on Canadian soil, waiting to learn from your lips whether
there is sufficient prospect of success to warrant him in bringing
his brave comrades over.”

“Where are his followers? How soon can they be obtained?
Is he quite certain of them?” asked the young man, quickly, and
with an appearance of great interest.

“Not an hour's journey from the city, they await his orders on
an uninhabited island. They are provided with arms and with
boats; and a steamboat, chartered for their use, is waiting to
receive the retreating party when their work is done—or is abandoned.”

Gertrude's voice trembled as she uttered the last three words

and she raised her handkerchief to her eyes to hide the starting
tears.

“Truly, you have done your work well,” replied the young
man, with enthusiasm, “and you fully deserve the success I cannot
doubt you will obtain. But I must not waste words nor
time. I must see this disguised hero at once, and, unless he is very
skeptical, I can convince him of the practicability of our scheme,
if boldly and adroitly managed, and if marred by no accident.”

“Those `ifs' are separate daggers to my heart,” replied Gertrude.
“Pray, do not you, who have been so sanguine, talk of `ifs.”'

“To you, indeed, I ought not, but your followers must know
the difficulties of the enterprise, in order to be prepared to overcome
them. Tell me now the name of your champion, or rather
the name by which he is known here, and the place in which I
am to seek him. I must find him at once, for at nine o'clock I
am expected at Colonel A 's, who entertains a party of friends,
and at a later hour I am engaged to attend a military ball.”

“And to-morrow evening?” asked Gertrude.

“For to-morrow evening I have accepted an invitation to visit
the theatre, and see Macbeth murdered by some provincial actors.
There I must act my part, too, and receive the intelligence of this
great outrage with becoming astonishment and indignation. I
should not be surprised if the play should stop and the audience
disperse under the alarm of an invasion.”

Gertrude trembled with agitation at every allusion to the great
event of the ensuing evening, and she with difficulty composed
herself sufficiently to give her companion the required address of
Johnson. She gave his assumed name, of course, which, together
with the name and location of the inn at which he could be found,
she wrote on a slip of paper and handed to Hadley.

“And now for yourself, and your valiant little friend, Ruth,” he
said, “what arrangements have been made? You must be out
of the city, you know, before the dénoûment takes place.”

“Out of the city? Most certainly, we shall not leave it until
the great question is decided.”

“Most certainly you must. You would be unsafe here a
moment after the rescue is effected.”

“Unsafe?”

“Why, do not you think that you would be suspected of inciting
this movement? You, who who have done so much in other
ways to save your friend?”

“Doubtless I might. But is it a crime to assist a friend in distress—to
rescue an innocent man from vindictive enemies, and
from unmerited death? My men have the strictest injunctions to
take no life, and to avoid all unnecessary violence.”

Hadley smiled at the simplicity of his companion, as he
replied,

“However justifiable your conduct may be in a moral point of
view, it will certainly constitute a grave offence against the laws,
and one punishable with much severity. There can be no doubt
of this.”

“What, then, shall we do?” asked Gertrude, after a moment's
musing.

“Cross to Grand Island to-morrow, by the ferry, and there
await your friend; or, better still (for, if the pursuit should be
hot, they might not be able to stop for you), let Miller send
his steamboat to the island to meet you. You can remain on
board the vessel till your friends come.”

“Yes, that is doubtless our best course,” said Gertrude, with
hesitation, for she reflected, with a shudder, that if the attempt at
rescue should fail, she would then have seen Harry for the last
time. She could not return to bid him a final farewell.

“Tell this to Mr. Miller,” she continued, “and tell him that I
must see him to-morrow, when his plans are matured, that I may
communicate them to Mr. Vrail, whom I shall see once more
before I leave. And you—when shall I see you again?”

“I shall travel through your country before I return home, and
I shall certainly find you, or, if anything should prevent my doing
so, the loss will be wholly mine. Farewell.”

“I will not attempt to express the extent of my thanks for your
kindness. You must comprehend the vastness of the favor you
have sought to confer, and be assured my gratitude is proportionate
to the obligation. Will you not see dear Ruth, that she, too,
may thank you?”

“It is better not. I will do my best to see you both in your
own home. Farewell.”

Hadley resumed his ancient cloak, his heavy cane, his slouched
hat and his stooping gait, and unlocking the door, he departed
with remarkable celerity for a man of his seeming infirmities.