I
It was not until the following Wednesday night that John Anderson was ready to pay his respects to Mistress Marjorie.
He had worked on the miniature since Saturday, and had regarded his finished product with eminent satisfaction. He had drawn her as she appeared to him on the night of the reception in the pose which he had best remembered her during the interval when she sat out the dance with him; her head turned partly towards him, revealing her small oval face surmounted by a wealth of brown hair, powdered to a gray; her small nose with just a suggestion of a dilatation lending to the face an expression of strength that the rest of the countenance only gave color to; the mouth, firmly set, its lines curving upward, as it should be, to harmonize with her disposition; the eyes, a soft brown, full of candor and sincerity, delicately shadowed by slender and arched eyebrows on a smooth forehead.
Marjorie could not conceal her enthusiasm as he handed it to her. Unable to restrain her curiosity, she arose hurriedly and went to the window to benefit by the less obscure light.
"Is—am I as pretty as that?" she exclaimed from her vantage point, without lifting her eyes from the portrait.
"Only more so," responded Anderson. "My memory poorly served me."
"Lud!" she remarked, holding it at arms length from her, "'Tis vastly flattering. I scarce recognize myself."
She returned to her chair.
"I swear on my honor, that it fails to do you full justice."
She continued to study it, paying but little heed to his remark. It was a water-colored portrait done on ivory of the most delicate workmanship and design, set in a fine gold case, delicately engraved, the whole presenting an appearance of beauty, richly colored. She turned it over and saw the letters J.A.M.A. interlaced over the triplet:
"Hours fly; flowers die;
New days, new ways,
Pass by. Love stays."
"It is very pretty," was her only comment.
"Hast no one told thee how well thou might appear in a ball gown?"
"I ne'er gave thought to such."
"Nor what an impression thou wouldst make at court?"
"Hast thou seen court beauties?"
She resolved to learn more about him.
"Aye! Oft have I been in their company."
"At St. James?"
"No. Much as I would have been pleased to. I know only Versailles."
So she thought he must be a French nobleman, who like Lafayette had incurred the royal displeasure by running away from court to fit out a vessel at his own expense in the hope of furthering the cause of the Colonists. The great impulse given to the hopes of the disheartened population by the chivalrous exploit of the latter, the sensation produced both by his departure from Europe and by his appearance in this country, might behold a glorious repetition in the person of this unknown visitor.
Her interest accordingly grew apace.
"It was magnanimous of His Majesty to take our cause to his heart. We can never fail in our gratitude."
"It is only natural for man to resist oppression. It has been written that it is only the meek who should possess the land."
"An ideal which is often badly shattered by the selfish ambitions and perverse passions of godless men."
"You are a Catholic?" he asked suddenly.
"I am proud of it."
"And your fellow patriots are of the same form of worship?"
"A goodly proportion of them."
"How many might you assume?"
"I scarce know. We have no method of compiling our numbers, not even our total population."
"Surely there must be a great percentage, if one considers the influx from France and England, not to mention Ireland, whence many fled from persecution."
"I once heard Father Farmer say that there must be over seven thousand Catholics in Pennsylvania, while Maryland has about fifteen thousand. Whatever there remain are much scattered, except of course New York with its thousand."
"I never dreamt they were so numerous! So great is the spirit of intolerance, that the wonder is that a single Catholic would remain in the Colonies."
"I know it. Formerly Maryland and Pennsylvania were the two only colonies where Catholics were allowed to reside, and even there were excluded from any civil or military office. And the time has not yet arrived for complete religious freedom, though the arrival of the French fleet with its Catholic army and Catholic chaplains will make a favorable impression upon our less enlightened oppressors."
"It seems strange that you should throw in your lot with a people who prove so intolerant."
"Father Farmer, our pastor, says that no influence must ever be used except for the national cause, for we must be quickened by the hope of better days. He pleads with his people to remain faithful and promises the undivided sympathy of his fellow priests with their kinsmen in the struggle. For these reasons I hardly think that many Catholics will desert our cause."
"Yet you must know that it was England that bestowed the most liberal grants to the inhabitants of the Northwest territory."
"You mean the Quebec Act?" she asked.
"Yes. And you know that Canada would be allied with you, heart and soul, were it not for the intolerant spirit of your fellow colonists."
"Perhaps it would."
"Now, would it not be better——"
"Do you mean to suggest to me that we turn traitor?" she interrupted, turning full upon him, her eyes flashing with intense feeling.
"No ... pardon ... I meant no offense.... The fact is I was only remarking on the sad plight of our co-religionists."
"I fail to perceive how ill we fare. Our compatriots render us honor, and as Father Farmer says, 'we may cherish the hope of better days, which are inevitable.' You must know that one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence is a Catholic; and that the army and navy boast of a considerable quota."
"We are not ungenerous of our service, it seems."
"Rather are we proud of our efforts. We are proud of the fact that there has been found among us not one false to his country. We point with pride to him who was privileged to first read the Declaration of Independence to the public. We are proud of the composition of Washington's 'Life Guard'; and we are proud of our mutual friend, whom, perhaps, you know," and she glanced at him with a merry twinkle, "Captain Meagher, Washington's aide-de-camp."
And so they talked. Marjorie became completely absorbed in her subject, once her religion became the topic, and she almost forgot her game in regard to her visitor. She desired to appear to the best advantage, however, for which purpose she talked freely, in the hope of extracting from him some information concerning himself and his intents. Still, however, there was another extreme which, though apparently less dangerous, she must be careful to avoid. The imaginations of men are in a great measure under the control of their feelings and it was absolutely necessary for her to refrain from imparting too much information lest it might deflect from its purpose the very object she was seeking to obtain.
There was a subtle influence about him, an adroitness of speech, a precision of movement which, unless sufficiently safeguarded against, was insidious. He had the most wonderful way of getting one's confidence, not only by reason of his genial and affable disposition, but also by his apparent and deliberate sincerity. And while it was true that she had determined upon a method which was originally intended to redound to her own advantage, she soon learned that she was playing with a boomerang which soon put her upon the defensive against the very strategy which she had herself directly planned.
He was not sincere in his protestations of admiration; that she perceived immediately. But she was resolved to let him think that she believed him in order that she might discover his true intents and purposes. Her knowledge of human nature was sufficient to enable her to conclude that one cannot unite the incompatible elements of truth and deception, the discernment of reality and the enjoyment of fiction for any great length of time. The reality is bound to appear.
For this reason she was not disposed to dismiss him at once but rather to allow him to call and see her frequently, if need be, until she had been thoroughly satisfied as to his true character. Nevertheless she sensed, at this very moment, that she was playing with a skillful adversary, one thoroughly versed in the game of diplomacy, against whom she would be called upon to employ every manner of weapon at her command. She realized the weight of the foe, and thought she understood his tactics. So she accepted the challenge.
"You are interested in Captain Meagher?" he asked serenely.
There was a pause. Marjorie looked slightly perturbed.
"Well," she confessed, "there is this much about him. I chanced to know the details of the offense with which he has been charged and I am naturally interested to learn the result of his trial."
"He may be found guilty," he quietly announced.
"Why do you say that?"
"The evidence was wholly against him."
"And there was no testimony to the effect that Colonel Forrest was somewhat intoxicated, or that he spoke disparaging words against the Captain's co-religionists, or that he attacked the character of the Commander-in-chief?"
"There was to some extent, but it did not seem to make any impression."
"I presume that you know the reason."
Her eyes gleamed a little.
"Why?"
There was a pause.
"The verdict has not been given. I shall be pleased to inform you of it at the earliest opportunity."
"Thank you. I shall be delighted. But let's not talk about it any more," she added. "Let's leave it."
Mr. Anderson smiled.