"I don't know. It appears to be a fact that the city will be entirely evacuated by the enemy in the morning, and yet I can't prevent fears that something may happen to change General Clinton's plans. At all events, Greene will be here at least an hour before daylight, and it is now nearly midnight, therefore why should we make any attempt at sleeping?"
A knock at the door, loud, quick, and, if such could be, one might almost say joyous, and Enoch answered it without hesitation, for he fancied he knew who would demand admittance in such a fashion.
"Not in bed yet, good people?" and Greene seated himself near the window.
"Enoch was just saying he could not sleep, and proposed that we sit up until morning."
"I venture to say there will be no slumber in nineteen houses out of every twenty in the city this night, and yet we who love the cause should be able to sleep now, if ever."
"You do not appear to be doing much in that line," Enoch suggested with a smile.
"Well, no, I am feeling too good just now to want to surrender consciousness, even for the sake of a rest. Such an experience as this doesn't come more than once in a person's lifetime, and he shouldn't lose any of the pleasurable sensations. I'll join your vigil as if it was New Year's eve, and we'll watch the British out and the Americans in."
Until the time the spy had set to go to the river bank, the three talked of the disappointments in the past and the hopes for the future, and then Greene and Enoch left the house.
There were more signs of life on the street, even at this early hour, than when they had entered the city the day previous.
The citizens who had been faithful to the cause during this long occupation by the enemy were now coming out in full force to witness his departure, and a happy, joyous throng it was.