“There is something mysterious in his manner; his looks are too prying for an indifferent observer,” continued young Wharton thoughtfully, “and his face seems familiar to me. The recent fate of André has created much irritation on both sides. Sir Henry threatens retaliation for his death; and Washington is as firm as if half the world were at his command. The rebels would think me a fit subject for their plans just now, should I be so unlucky as to fall into their hands.”
“But my son,” cried his father, in great alarm, “you are not a spy; you are not within the rebel—that is, the American lines; there is nothing here to spy.”
“That might be disputed,” rejoined the young man, musing. “Their pickets were as low as the White Plains when I passed through in disguise. It is true my purposes are innocent; but how is it to appear? My visit to you would seem a cloak to other designs. Remember, sir, the treatment you received not a year since, for sending me a supply of fruit for the winter.”
“That proceeded from the misrepresentations of my kind neighbors,” said Mr. Wharton, “who hoped, by getting my estate confiscated, to purchase good farms at low prices. Peyton Dunwoodie, however, soon obtained our discharge; we were detained but a month.”
“We!” repeated the son, in amazement; “did they take my sisters, also?
Fanny, you wrote me nothing of this.”
“I believe,” said Frances, coloring highly, “I mentioned the kind treatment we received from your old friend, Major Dunwoodie; and that he procured my father’s release.”
“True; but were you with him in the rebel camp?”
“Yes,” said the father, kindly; “Fanny would not suffer me to go alone. Jeanette and Sarah took charge of the Locusts, and this little girl was my companion, in captivity.”
“And Fanny returned from such a scene a greater rebel than ever,” cried Sarah, indignantly; “one would think the hardships her father suffered would have cured her of such whims.”
“What say you to the charge, my pretty sister?” cried the captain gayly; “did Peyton strive to make you hate your king, more than he does himself?”