“Now, Peyton,” said Frances, “it is indeed a brother that you seek; I am sure I need not caution you in his behalf, should you unfortunately find him.”
“Say fortunately,” cried the youth, “for I am determined he shall yet dance at my wedding. Would that I could win him to our cause. It is the cause of his country; and I could fight with more pleasure, Frances, with your brother by my side.”
“Oh! mention it not! You awaken terrible reflections.”
“I will not mention it,” returned her husband; “but I must now leave you. But the sooner I go, Frances, the sooner I shall return.”
The noise of a horseman was heard approaching the house, and Dunwoodie was yet taking leave of his bride and her aunt, when an officer was shown into the room by his own man.
The gentleman wore the dress of an aid-de-camp, and the major at once knew him to be one of the military family of Washington.
“Major Dunwoodie,” he said, after bowing to the ladies, “the commander in chief has directed me to give you these orders.”
He executed his mission, and, pleading duty, took his leave immediately.
“Here, indeed!” cried the major, “is an unexpected turn in the whole affair; but I understand it: Harper has got my letter, and already we feel his influence.”
“Have you news affecting Henry?” cried Frances, springing to his side.