She reached out her hand to bid him farewell. It rested willingly in his.
“I hope,” she said, “I never shall be so ungrateful as to forget what you have done for me. I certainly shall not forget the lesson you have taught me—to stand resolutely for the right. I shall always be pleased to see you.”
“You may be sure, Miss Newville, I never shall fail to pay my respects to one whose very presence makes life more beautiful and worth the living.”
The full moon was falling upon her face. Her eyes seemed to be looking far away. He saw for a moment a shade of sadness upon her countenance, succeeded by a smile. Her hand was still resting in his.
“Good-by till we meet again,” her parting words.
Never before had he felt such an uplifting of spirit. “Till we meet again” would ever be like a strain of music. He lingered awhile, loath to leave the spot. A light was soon shining in her chamber. The curtains revealed her shadow. It was something to know she was there. Would she think of him when lying down to sleep? When would he again behold those loving eyes, that radiant face, that beauty of soul seen in every feature? What had the future in store for them? Ah! what had it? The light in the chamber was extinguished, and he turned away. Once more he lingered by the gray walls of King’s Chapel to take a parting look at the white-curtained window, and then walked to Queen Street, past the jail and printing office. It would be a pleasure to stand once more upon the spot where first he met her.
He heard a commotion in the direction of Dock Square,—oaths and curses; and suddenly beheld citizens running, followed by soldiers, whose swords were flashing in the moonlight. They followed the fleeing people nearly to the town pump, then turned and disappeared in an alley.
“What has happened?” Robert asked of a man who had a pail of oysters in his hand.
“What? Just see what I’ve got from the hellish rascals,” the man replied, setting down the pail and pointing to a gash on his shoulder. “The red-coated devils are cutting and slashing everybody. They are ripping and swearing they’ll kill every blasted Son of Liberty.”
While the oysterman was speaking, a little boy came along, piteously crying.