“That we wished for it, and prayed for it—oh, how fervently we prayed for it!—is true; but to have communion with the royal army would have endangered our father, and we dared not.”
“Did he leave the house until taken, or had he intercourse with any out of your own dwelling?”
“With no one excepting our neighbor, the peddler Birch.”
“With whom?” exclaimed the colonel, turning pale, and shrinking as from the sting of an adder.
Dunwoodie groaned aloud, and, striking his head with his hand, cried out in piercing tones, “He is lost!” and rushed from the apartment.
“But Harvey Birch,” repeated Frances, gazing wildly at the door through which her lover had disappeared.
“Harvey Birch!” echoed all the judges. The two immovable members of the court exchanged looks, and threw an inquisitive glance at the prisoner.
“To you, gentlemen, it can be no new intelligence to hear that Harvey Birch is suspected of favoring the royal cause,” said Henry, again advancing before the judges, “for he has already been condemned by your tribunals to the fate that I see now awaits myself. I will therefore explain that it was by his assistance I procured the disguise and passed your pickets; but to my dying moments and with my dying breath I will avow that my intentions were as pure as the innocent beings before you.”
“Captain Wharton,” said the president, solemnly, “the enemies of American liberty have made mighty and subtle efforts to overthrow our power. A more dangerous man, for his means and education, is not ranked among our foes than this peddler of Westchester. He is a spy—artful, delusive, and penetrating beyond the abilities of his class. Indeed, young man, this is a connection that may prove fatal to you.”
The honest indignation that beamed on the countenance of the aged warrior was met by a look of perfect conviction on the part of his comrades.