CHAPTER XXXIV
The next morning—although at rather a late hour for her—Dorothy arose, feeling greatly refreshed by her sound and dreamless sleep.
While she was yet dressing, her brother rapped on the door, and told her she was to go to the little room near by, where supper had been served the night before, and that Dolly—the sutler's wife—would have breakfast ready for her.
An hour later, as she stood at the open window of her room, drinking in the fresh morning air, still bearing the odor of fallen leaves wetted by the night damps, she saw her brother, with Captain Southorn and several other men, chatting together a short distance away.
Jack was the first to turn his eyes in her direction, and seeing her, he smiled and waved his hand, at which Captain Southorn turned about and hurried toward her.
He was soon standing under the window, and reaching up took possession of one of the small hands resting upon the sill.
For an instant neither of them spoke, but Dorothy's dark eyes smiled shyly into the blue ones uplifted to her face.
"And it is really true," he said at last, with an air of conviction. "Do you know, little one, that when I awakened this morning, I was fearful at first that I 'd been dreaming it all. But knowing now what I do, how can I have the heart to go away and leave you again? Cannot you come to Boston with me now—this very day?"
She shook her head. "No, no,—I must not do that. I must go back to Dorchester, to see Mary and Mistress Knollys once more. And, too"—with a blush—"I could not go without any raiment besides this." And she touched the folds of her riding-habit.
He stood a minute as if thinking, and then asked if she would come out for a short walk.
"Most assuredly," was her smiling response; and turning from the window, she was not long in putting on her hat.
As she was about leaving the room, she noticed her riding-whip lying on the table where she had tossed it upon her arrival the previous evening. It was a gift from her father, and one she prized very highly; and fearing that the sight of it might excite the cupidity of some of the servants, she picked it up, and then passed quickly out to the porch.
Here she encountered several of the officers whom she had seen talking with her brother a short time before. They now drew aside to let her go by, which she did hurriedly, her eyes lowered under the shadowy plumes of her riding-hat, and oblivious of the admiring glances they stole at her.
Many of the inmates of Washington's headquarters had become acquainted with her little romance; and so, unknown to herself, she was an object of much interest. It was for this reason also, as well as on account of the responsibility assumed with regard to him by Washington himself, that the English captain was occupying a somewhat unusual position amongst the American officers.
Finding her brother and husband together, the two coming to meet her at the porch, Dorothy asked after Hugh, and was told by Jack that he had gone with a message to some of the outposts, but would return shortly.
"And is he well this morning, Jack?"
"Oh, yes," her brother answered lightly. "You will not go far away, of course," he added, "nor stay long, else I shall have to come or send for you."
"Only a short distance;" and Captain Southorn motioned to the wood that lay not far from the rear of the house.
"Who is this Hugh?" he inquired, as they walked slowly along, the dry leaves crackling under their feet. "Is he the sergeant, Hugh Knollys, who went with your brother yesterday?"
"Yes;" and something in his tone impelled her to add, "and I've known him all my life."
"Oh, yes," he said, knitting his brows a little, as he kicked the leaves before him, "I remember right well. It was he I used to see riding about the country with you so much last summer."
"He is like my own brother," she explained quickly, not feeling quite comfortable in something she detected in his manner of speech.
"Is he?" now looking at her smilingly. "And does he regard you in the same fraternal fashion?"
"Why, of course," she answered frankly. "Hugh and I have always known one another; we have gone riding and boating together for years, have quarrelled and made up, just as Jack and I have done. Only," and now she spoke musingly, "I cannot remember that Jack ever quarrelled much with me."
"No, I should say not, from what I've seen of him," her husband said heartily.
By this time they were in the seclusion of the wood; and now his arms went about her and held her fast.
"Sweetheart, tell me once more that you love me," he said. "I only brought you here to have you tell it to me again, and in broad daylight."
She rested her head on his arm and smiled up into his face.
"How many times must I tell you?"
"With each sweet breath you draw, if you tell me as many times as I would wish to hear. But this is certain to be the last moment I shall have to see you alone, as you are to start for Dorchester, and I for Boston. And you will surely—surely join me there as soon as I send you word?" He spoke eagerly, and as if fearful that something might arise to make her change her mind.
"Yes, to be sure I will,—have I not promised?"
"That you have, God bless you. And you will let no one turn you from that, little one?"
"Why, who should?" She opened her eyes in surprise, and then there came a flash to them. "No, no, even if every one was to try, they could not do it now. What is that?"
She started nervously, and turned her head quickly about, as they both heard a rustling in the bushes.
"It is only a rabbit or squirrel," her husband said, "or perhaps a—"
There was the sharp report of a gun close by, and a bullet grazed his shoulder and struck the tree-trunk directly over Dorothy's head. The next instant there came the sound of trampling and fierce struggling; and a voice Dorothy knew at once, cried, "You sneaking dastard, what murder is it you 're up to?"
"Stop here, little one," said Captain Southorn, calmly, "just a second, until I see what all this means." And he plunged into the tangled thicket beside the path in which they had been standing.
But Dorothy followed him closely; and a few yards away they came upon Hugh Knollys, towering angrily over a man lying prostrate on the ground, and whom Dorothy recognized instantly as the rude fellow who had so alarmed her at the inn.
At sight of the two figures breaking through the underbrush, Hugh started in surprise, and a look which Dorothy found it hard to understand showed in his face.
"What is it—what is the matter?" Captain Southorn demanded angrily, stepping toward the two other men.
Hugh did not reply, and now they heard rapid footsteps approaching.
"Here, this way,—come here!" shouted Hugh, who did not appear to have heard the young Englishman's question.
Farmer Gilbert had arisen slowly to his feet, and did not attempt to escape from the grasp Hugh still kept upon his arm.
"Oh, Hugh—what is it?" asked Dorothy, looking with frightened eyes at his prisoner.
"Never mind now, Dot," he answered hastily, but his voice softening. "How came you here? You should not—" Then, with a half-sulky glance as of apology to the young Englishman, he bit his lip and was silent.
"We were standing in the path just now," said Captain Southorn, "when a bullet came so close to us as to do this;" and he touched the torn cloth on his shoulder.
Hugh started. "Then it must have been you he was shooting at!" he exclaimed, glancing angrily at the prisoner.
"The bullet went just over my head and into a tree," said Dorothy, continuing her husband's explanation.
"Over your head, Dot!" cried Hugh. "So close to you as that!" And a terrible look came to his face,—one that revealed his secret to the purple-blue eyes watching him so keenly. "Oh—my God!"
The appearance of several men—soldiers—cut the words short, and restored Hugh's calmness, for, turning to them, he bade them take the man and guard him carefully.
"And I'll take this gun of yours," he said to him, "and see to it that you get the treatment you deserve for such a cowardly bit of work."
"Wait a bit, till I answers him," said Farmer Gilbert, now speaking for the first time, as he turned to face Hugh, and holding back, so as to arrest the steps of the men who were dragging him away. "I want to say, young sir, that if ye had n't sneaked up on me from aback, an' knocked my gun up, I'd hev done what I've been dodgin' 'round to do these five days past—an' that were to put a bullet through the head or d——d trait'rous heart o' that British spy in petticoats."
His face was ablaze with passion, and he shook his clenched fist at Dorothy, who stood looking at him as though he were a wild beast caught in the toiler's net.
Captain Southorn started forward; but Hugh motioned him back. Then realizing the full sense of the fellow's words, he sprang upon him with an oath such as no one had ever heard issue from his lips.
Falling upon the defenceless man, he shook him fiercely. Then he seemed to struggle for a proper control of himself, and asked chokingly, "Do you mean to tell me that it was her you were aiming at when I caught you?"
He pointed to Dorothy, who was now clinging to her husband; and even in that moment Hugh saw his arm steal about her protectingly.
He turned his eyes away, albeit the sight helped to calm his rage, as the bitter meaning of it swept over him.
"Aye—it was," the man answered doggedly, nodding his bushy head; "an' ye may roll me o'er the ground again, like a log that has no feelin', an' send me to prison atop it all, for tryin' to do my country a sarvice by riddin' it of a spy."
The soldiers who were holding him looked significantly at each other and then at Dorothy, who was still standing within the protecting arm of the man they knew to be an English officer, and a prisoner who had been captured, alone and at night, close to the spot where the Commander-in-Chief was engaged in a conference with some of his subordinates.
Despite the fright to which she had been subjected, the girl was quick to see all this, and the suspicion to which it pointed. And she now astonished them all by leaving her husband's side, to advance rapidly until she stood facing the soldiers and their prisoner, who cowered away as he saw the flash of her eyes, and her small figure drawn to its utmost height.
"Do you dare say to my face that I am a British spy—I, Dorothy Devereux, of Marblehead, whose only brother is an officer in Glover's regiment? You lying scoundrel—take that!" And raising her riding-whip, she cut him sharply across the face, the thin lash causing a crimson welt to show upon its already florid hue. "And that," giving him another cut. "And do you go to General Washington, and tell him your wicked story, and I doubt not he'll endorse the writing of the opinion I've put upon your cowardly face for saying such evil falsehoods of me!"
"Dot—Dorothy—whatever does this mean?" It was the voice of her brother, as he dashed to her side and caught her arm, now lifted for another blow.
She shivered, and the whip fell to the ground, while Hugh ordered the men to take their prisoner away.
They obeyed, grinning shyly at each other, and now feeling assured that no British spy was amongst them.
Captain Southorn had stood motionless, looking at Dorothy in unconcealed amazement. But her quick punishment of the fellow's insult seemed to have a good effect upon Hugh Knollys, for his face now showed much of its sunny good-nature.
The sight of what she had done, no less than the sound of her voice, had brought back the impetuous, wilful Dot of bygone days; and he found himself thinking again of the little maid whose ears he boxed because of the spilled bullets, years ago.