“I want to see my husband.”
“Your husband?”
“Yes, Captain Walter Butler.”
“Hallo! and you are his wife? Why, the general has just gone in to see with his own eyes if the Tory spy is as sick as he pretends.”
“Sick—is he sick, did you say?” cried Tahmeroo, turning of an ashen paleness.
“Don’t turn so pale—don’t fret about it—I’ve an idea its all sham; but the general will soon find out—it isn’t easy cheating him.”
“But he is sick—I must see him this moment—do you hear? this moment—tell me where I can carry this letter; they told me the gentleman was not here, but I will go where he is—I’ll follow on, and on, forever to find the man that has power to pass me through that door!”
“Let me look at the letter.”
Tahmeroo gave it to him, trembling with impatience to be off.
“Why this is to General Schuyler himself! All right—just wait here and give it to him as he comes out—don’t be afraid; for all his grand looks, he’s tenderhearted as a baby. Come, come; don’t get so down in the mouth; it’ll all turn out right somehow—things always do.”