“’Tis all the doin’s of the old naygur woman, sure, Miss Letty. She’s that grand a nurse I never saw. I’d have been away from here this good bit, but she advises me to lay low, sayin’ there’s trouble brewin’, an’ I might be needed. ’Twas she, the cute old owl of a crittur, that give me the hint to slip in on ye aisy loike this mornin’, ‘fur,’ says she, ‘there do be some o’ thim divils o’ ridcoats goin’ in the direction of the great house, Misther Pat,’ says she, an’ I picks up the shillalee I’ve been havin’ by me this week back, an’ off I goes. The swoord, ’twas me luck to find outside the dhoor. Ye’d betther not be wastin’ toime, Miss Letty, dear.”
“But that wounded man in my room?”
“Lave him there. He’ll git no betther place this long while, I’m thinkin’. I’ll be afther gittin’ the horses and carriage ready as quick as I can, Miss Letty, an’ do you an’ Miss Betty thry yer purtiest to git off.”
“Betty! Sister Betty!” Lettice’s call rang through the silent house. “Oh, where are you?” She ran up and down stairs, and at last from the drawing-room came a smothered answer, “Here.”
“Come out from your hiding-place. Wherever you are, come quick.” And from behind the pile of green boughs placed in the fireplace to screen it, a grimy, sooty Betty appeared, with her baby in her arms. The little fellow had kept a noble silence, although but half understanding that there was a cause for fear. Every servant on the place had made for the woods when the word had gone forth that the redcoats were chasing Jubal. Even the house servants had not been able to resist joining in the general stampede, and Lutie, up in the little closet, alone remained.
“Hurry out and get into the carriage,” cried Lettice. “It is around by the side of the house. Pat Flynn is there. Hurry, hurry, Betty; don’t stop to wash your face. I am coming in one minute.”
Betty caught up a bag of the articles she had already packed, and Lettice called from the window to Pat to please try to get her trunk on behind. Then she skurried about, picking up this thing and that, and thrusting it into a pillow case which, when full, she pitched out of the window. This done, with fleet steps she ran up to the attic. “Out with you, quick, Lutie!” she cried. “Come as quick as you can, or you will get left behind.” And Lutie, after scrambling out on the roof and down the chimney on the other side, reached her mistress, who stood waiting for her. “You will be safe, Lutie, if you hurry!” she told her. “Come on. Don’t stop to get anything.” She grasped the girl’s arm and fairly dragged her down the steep stairs. Yet, pressed for time though she was, she could not forbear stopping at the door of her room to look in at the man who lay on the floor. He was the same who had claimed Lutie. A sudden thought of Jamie froze all compassion from Lettice’s breast.
“Sir, we leave you to the tender mercies of your own friends,” she said. “You see I mean to keep my maid. You cannot send her to your wife.” Then she turned with a gentle smile to Lutie. “Come,” she said, “we will go, but I think we may never see the old house again, and I do not think you will ever see Jubal again, Lutie.”
The maid caught her mistress’s hand in both of hers and laid her smooth brown cheek upon it. “Yuh loves me better’n Jubal does, Miss Letty. He lef’ me. He wa’n’t willin’ ter fight fo’ me. Yuh didn’t run an’ leave me, Miss Letty. De Lord bless yuh, my Miss Letty. I don’ spec I uvver see dat fool Jubal agin, an’ I don’ keer. I belongs ter yuh, an’ I is say my pra’rs ter God A’mighty fo’ dat till I dies.”
“We take our leave of you, monsieur,” said Lettice with a sweeping courtesy, as she turned to leave the doorway. The man shook a feeble fist at her as she disappeared.