“Hush—for heaven’s sake!” I interposed. “One whisper of that overheard in this house where Margaret Shippen is a guest—”
“Poor, dear Margaret!” she said, and now she was all sympathy and pity. “I doubt if even she would betray you, Dick; and all the others in this house are secretly our friends. But what could have tempted you, a Page and an officer, to become a—a spy?”
“That is what I can not—dare not—tell you, Beatrix,” I protested. “And that is not for my sake, but for your own. Won’t you believe me, heart of mine?”
“I’ll never believe you love me as you say you do until you are willing to let me share your hazard, whatever it is,” she retorted.
“You would not be sharing the hazard; you would merely be miserable, Beatrix dear.”
“Then I claim the privilege of being miserable for your sake, Dick: please!” and her arms went out to me in a pleading gesture that no lover could withstand—for long.
It was Cousin Julianna who saved me. There was a light tap at the door, and she entered in a fluster of alarm.
“A lot of redcoat soldiers have just come into the yard and are surrounding the house!” she announced. “Is this some of your doing, Dickie Page?”
I told her it was not, but I did not add that it would probably prove my eternal undoing. I could think of but one explanation: by some means Castner had prevailed upon Sir Henry Clinton to reestablish the order for my arrest, and the lieutenant had traced me hither. But I had no intention of letting the two women know what was awaiting me.
“I’ll go out and see what is preparing to happen,” I offered lightly. “So much my red coat may do for you, Cousin Ju.”