She wanted to be out—away, far from the scenes with which he was associated, apart from the thought of him. She wanted to regain her old identity—to be herself—to feel free.
She was in haste as she donned her bottle-green rokelay, for the weather was keen, and she had a calash of the same dark tint, bordered with brown fur that made a distinct line along the roll of her fair hair above her brow. She went out alone upon the ramparts, walking very swiftly, catching a glimpse through the embrasures, as she severally passed the cannon, of the cold, steel-gray river, the leafless woods bending before the blast, the ranges of mountains, all dull brown or slate-gray save far, so far they hardly seemed real, mere pearl-tinted illusions in the sombre north. She caught her breath in deep quick respirations; she heard how rapidly her footsteps sounded on the hard-beaten red clay. She said that it was exercise she had wanted, the fresh air, to be out, the privilege every creature enjoyed—that bird, an eagle, cleaving the air with his great wings; a party of Indians on the opposite bank, going into the woods in a regular jog-trot, single file; the very garrison dogs; a group of men at the great gate. And suddenly she threw up her arm and hailed this group, for she had recognized her father among them.
She had recognized another—it was Raymond, and she wondered that she had identified him at the distance. The sentinel first perceived her gesture and called Captain Howard’s attention. The party paused, stared at the approaching, flying figure on the ramparts, then as she reached a ramp and rushed down the steep incline to the parade they came forward at a fair pace to meet her.
“Lord, papa!” she cried breathlessly, “where are you going? Let me go with you, sir, wherever it is. Truly, sir, I am perishing for a breath of change. I feel as if I have lived in Fort Prince George since America was discovered. Let me go, sir!”
She had him by the arm now, and he was looking down leniently at her.
“You are a spoil-sport, Arabella. You cannot go where we are going, child.”
“Then go somewhere else,” she insisted. “Sure, sir, I’m not a prisoner of war. Let me through that gate, or I shall die of Fort Prince George.”
“We are going to speak to one of the chiefs of Keowee Town about an important matter—feed for the pack animals; we must have feed, you know, or we shall never get away from Fort Prince George.”
“Across the river! Oh, bless us and save us, papa, I must go. I could sit in the canoe while you bargain, or confer, or what not. You would be near at hand and I should not be afraid.”
“It is under the guns of the fort, sir,” suggested Raymond.