MILDRED MEETS AN AGREEABLE ADVENTURE.
We left Mildred securely lodged with her new and kind-hearted friends, under the hospitable roof of the farmer, hard by the Yadkin. The reader has, doubtless, found reason in the course of this narrative to marvel much that a lady so delicately nurtured should, with so stout a spirit and with such singular devotion, have tempted so many dangers, and exposed herself to such unwonted hardships, for the sake of the man she loved. Perhaps, I might be able to clear up this matter, by referring to the extraordinary conjuncture of circumstances that surrounded her. It was no secret that she fervently, and with her whole heart,—yea even with a fanatical worship,—loved the man she sought. Her affection had been nursed in solitude, and, like a central fire, glowed with a fervid heat, unobserved at first, silent and steady: and by degrees her enthusiasm spread its coloring over the passion, and raised it into a fanciful but solemn self-dedication. This warmth of feeling might still have been witnessed only within her family precinct, had it not been that, at a most critical moment, when her father's absence from the Dove Cote left her without other resource than her own unaided counsel, she was made acquainted that her lover's life was in imminent peril, and that a word from her might perhaps avert his doom. We have seen with what anxious alacrity she set forth in that emergency upon her pilgrimage of duty; and how, as she became familiar with hardship and danger, her constancy and resolution still took a higher tone, growing more vigorous even with the impediments that lay across her path. This may seem strange to our peace-bred dames,—and little congruous with that feminine reserve and shrinkingness which we are wont to praise: but war, distress, and disaster work miracles in the female bosom, and render that virtuous and seemly, which ease and safety might repel. Nature is a wise and cunning charmer, and, in affliction, makes that forwardness not unlovely, which in tranquil and happy times she would visit with her censure. If these considerations do not suffice to explain the present movements of my heroine, I must beg my reader to have patience to the end, when, peradventure, he will find a still better reason.
When morning came, Mildred was up with the first blush of light. Her thoughts had dwelt with a busy restlessness upon the late intelligence, and she had slept only in short and disturbed intervals. She was impatient to be again upon the road.
Accordingly, as soon as the preparations for their journey could be made, our party, now increased by the addition of Musgrove and his daughter, set forward on their travel towards Burk Court House.
This journey was protracted through several days. The disturbed state of the country, produced by the active hostilities which were now renewed, made it prudent for our wayfarers frequently to halt amongst the friendly inhabitants of the region through which they travelled, in order to obtain information, or wait for the passage of troops whose presence might have caused embarrassment.
The considerate kindness of Allen Musgrove, and the unwearied attentions of Mary, who, softened by her own griefs, evinced a more touching sympathy for the sufferings of Mildred, every day increased the friendship which their present companionship had engendered, and greatly beguiled the road of its tediousness and discomfort.
The journey, however, was not without its difficulties, nor altogether destitute of occurrences of interest to this history. The upper districts of North Carolina present to the eye a very beautiful country, diversified by mountain and valley, and gifted in general with a rich soil. Considerable portions of this region were consequently occupied and put into cultivation at an early period of the history of the province; and, at the era of the revolution, were noted as the most desirable positions for the support of the southern armies. This circumstance had drawn the war to that quarter, and had induced a frequent struggle to retain a footing there, by each party who came into possession of it. Such a state of things had now, as we have before remarked, embarrassed the progress of our friends, and had even compelled them to diverge largely from the direct route of their journey.
It happened, a few days after leaving the Yadkin, that the hour of sunset found our little troop pursuing a road through the deep and gloomy forest, which, for several miles past, had been unrelieved by any appearance of human habitation. Neither Horse Shoe nor Allen Musgrove possessed any acquaintance with the region, beyond the knowledge that they were upon what was called the upper or mountain road that extended from Virginia entirely through this section of North Carolina; and that they could not be much more than fifteen or twenty miles north of Burk Court House. Where they should rest during the night that was now at hand, was a matter that depended entirely upon chance; and stimulated by the hope of encountering some woodland cabin, they persevered in riding forward, even when the fading twilight had so obscured their path as to make it a matter of some circumspection to pick their way. Thus the night stole upon them almost unawares.
There is nothing so melancholy as the deep and lonely forest at night; and why it should be so I will not stop to inquire, but that melancholy, it seems to me, is enhanced by the chilliness of the autumnal evening. The imagination peoples the impenetrable depths of the wood with spectres, which the gibbering and shrill reptiles that inhabit these recesses seem to invest with a voice; the earth beneath the feet, carpeted with "the raven down of darkness," has an indefinite surface that causes the traveller to think of pitfalls and sudden banks, and fearful quagmires; and the grey light of the glow-worm, or the cold gleam of the rotten timber, shine up through the gloom, like some witch-taper from a haunted ground. Then, high above the head, the sombre forms of the trees nod in the night-wind, and the stars,—ineffectual to guide us on our way—are seen only in short and rapid glimpses through the foliage; all these things affect the mind with sadness, but the chattering of the teeth and the cold creep of the blood, rendered sluggish by a frosty atmosphere, make it still more sad.
Mildred and Mary Musgrove experienced a full share of these imaginings, as they now rode in the dark, side by side; and, peradventure, an occasional expression of impatience might have been heard, in whispers, between them. By degrees this feeling extended to Henry, and, in due course of time, seemed also to have reached the sergeant and the miller; for these two, as if suddenly struck with the necessity of making some provision for the night, now came to a halt, with a view to inquire into the comfort of the weaker members of the troop, and to deliberate on what was best to be done. To make a fire, erect a tent, and resort to the contents of their havresacks for supper, were the only expedients which their situation afforded; and as these arrangements were but the customary incidents of travel, in the times to which we refer, they were now resolved upon with but little sense of inconvenience or hardship. It was proper, however, that the party should encamp in some position where they might have water, and, with that object, they continued to move forward until they should find themselves in the neighborhood of a running stream—an event that, from the nature of the country, was soon likely to occur.
"There can be no moon to-night," said the sergeant, as they rode along in quest of their lodging-place, "yet yonder light would look as if she was rising. No, it can't be, for it is westward, as I judge, Allen."
"It is westward," replied Musgrove, looking towards a faint light which brought the profile of the tree-tops into relief against the horizon. "There must be fire in the woods."
The party rode on, all eyes being directed to the phenomenon pointed out by Horse Shoe. The light grew broader, and flung a lurid beam towards the zenith; and, as the travellers still came nearer, the radiance increased, and illuminated the summit of a hill, which, it was now apparent, lay between them and the light.
"We must rest here for a while," said the sergeant, reining up his horse in a dark and narrow ravine; "the fire is just across this hill in front. It would be wise to reconnoitre a little; there may be travellers camping on the t'other side, or troops for aught we know; or it may be an old fire left by the last persons who passed. You, Allen Musgrove, stay here with the women, and I will ride forward to look into the matter."
Henry accompanied the sergeant, and they both galloped up the hill. When they came to the top, a rich and strange prospect broke upon their sight. Some three or four hundred yards in advance, at the foot of the long slope of the hill, a huge volume of flame was discovered enveloping the entire trunk of a tall pine, and blazing forth with sudden flashes amongst the withered foliage. The radiance cast around from this gigantic torch penetrated the neighboring forest, and lit up the trees with a lustre more dazzling than that of day; whilst the strong shades brought into such immediate proximity with the sharp, red light, as it glanced upon every upright stem or trunk, gave a new and grotesque outline to the familiar objects of the wood. The glare fell upon the sward of the forest, and towards the rear upon a sheet of water, which showed the conflagration to have been kindled on the bank of some river. Not less conspicuous than the local features of the scene were the figures of a considerable party of soldiers passing to and fro in idle disarray through the region of the light, and a short distance from them a number of horses attached to the branches of the neighboring trees. Horse Shoe and his young companion stood gazing for some moments upon the spectacle, the sergeant in silent conjecture and perplexed thoughtfulness as to the character of the persons below, Henry intent only upon the novel and picturesque beauty of the view.
The light shone directly up the road, and fell upon the persons of our two friends, a circumstance to which the sergeant seemed to give no heed, until Henry pointed out to him a horseman, from the direction of the fire, who was now advancing towards them.
"Sergeant, turn back into the shade," cried Henry; "that man is coming after us."
"Keep your ground," replied Horse Shoe; "he has no ill-will to us. He wears the dress of an honest man and a good soldier."
"Who goes there?" called out the horseman, as he now came within speaking distance. "Stand and tell me who you are!"
"Friends to the hunting-shirt and buck-tail," replied Robinson.
"I am glad to hear you say so," rejoined the scout, as he advanced still nearer. "Where from, and in what direction do you travel?"
"That should be William Scoresby's voice of the Amherst Rangers," shouted Henry, with animation; "as I live, it is the very man!"
"Who have we here!" returned the horseman. "Henry Lindsay! our deputy corporal! Why, man, where did you spring from?" he added, in a tone of joyful surprise, as he offered Henry his hand.
"Ho, sister Mildred—Mr. Musgrove!" exclaimed Henry, calling out at the top of his voice to his friends, who were waiting behind for intelligence. "Come up—come up! Here's good luck!"
And with a continued vociferation, he galloped back until he met his sister, and conducted her to the top of the hill, whence, following the guidance of William Scoresby, the party descended to the bivouac of the Amherst Rangers.
Henry eagerly sought out Stephen Foster, and, having brought him into the presence of Mildred, received from him a narrative of the course of events which had led to this fortunate meeting.
The Rangers had marched from Virginia a few days after Mildred had left the Dove Cote. They had fallen in with Gates's shattered army at Hillsborough, where, after tarrying almost a fortnight, they were furnished an opportunity to take some active share in the operations of the day by the enterprise of Shelby against Ferguson, the knowledge of which had reached them at Gates's head-quarters, whither a messenger from Shelby had come to ask for aid. The Rangers had accordingly volunteered for this service, and, with the permission of the general, were now on their way towards Burk Court House, there hoping to receive intelligence that would enable them to join the allies.
They had for some miles been marching along the same road taken by our travellers, not more than two hours ahead of them; and having reached the Catawba near sundown, had determined to encamp there for the night. The soldiers, unaccustomed to exact discipline, had, in sport, set fire to a tall pine which some accident of the storm had killed, and produced the conflagration that had lighted Horse Shoe and his charge to the scene of the present meeting.
It may be imagined that this incident afforded great satisfaction to Mildred and her party, who were thus brought into connexion with a numerous body of friends, with whom they determined henceforth to pursue their journey. The first good result of this encounter was immediately experienced in the comfortable though rude accommodation which the prompt and united efforts of the Rangers supplied to Mildred and her friend, Mary Musgrove, in enabling them to pass a night of sound and healthful sleep.
On the following day, the Rangers and their new companions arrived at Burk Court House. They were here made acquainted with the fact that the mountain troops were at this time moving towards Gilbert-town. They accordingly, after a night's rest, resumed their march, and by a toilsome journey through a rugged mountain district, succeeded on the third evening in reaching the little village which had but a short time since been the head-quarters of Ferguson and the spot of Arthur Butler's captivity.
They were now in advance of Campbell and his mountaineers; and, in waiting for these troops, they were afforded leisure to recruit themselves from the effects of their late fatigues. Good quarters were obtained for Mildred and her companions. She required repose, and profited by the present opportunity to enjoy it.
The village at this moment was full of troops. Brandon and Lacy, with their followers, whom we have referred to in the last chapter, were already there, in daily expectation of the arrival of the confederates; and amongst these men, Sergeant Robinson and his companion, the miller, found the means of relieving the tediousness of delay, to say nothing of Henry, who had now become so decidedly martial in his inclinations, that the camp was to him a scene of never-fading interest.
In two days Campbell's army entered the village, after a march of which we have already given a sketch to our reader. It was a duty of early concern, on the part of Allen Musgrove and the sergeant, to apprise him of the presence of Mildred and her brother, and to communicate to him the singular purpose of her mission. The effect of this was a visit by Campbell, Shelby, and Williams, to the lady on the evening of their arrival. The two latter of these officers had already been personally active in the behalf of Arthur Butler, and all felt the liveliest interest in his fortunes. The singular relation in which Mildred seemed to stand to the captive officer and the extraordinary zeal which her present mission betrayed in his cause, drew forth a warm sympathy from the generous soldiers around her, and there was even a tincture of the romance of chivalry in the fervor with which, on the present visit, they pledged themselves to her service. With the delicacy that always belongs to honorable and brave hearts, they refrained from inquiry into the special inducements which could so earnestly enlist the lady in the service of their fellow-soldier, and sedulously strove to raise her spirits into a cheerful and happy tone by the hopes they were able to inspire.