"It is some dispatch," said Betty breathlessly. "Did you not see the bag he carried at the saddle? And there is my father—oh, Sally, I wonder if there be news from General Washington and the army?" and struck by the sudden fear of ill-tidings the girls ran hastily from the room.
In the wide hall stood Miss Bidwell, and beside her the stranger, saddle-bag in hand, as Miss Euphemia emerged from the dining-room, whence General Wolcott had preceded her.
"From the commander-in-chief, general," said the courier, touching his battered hat in salute, "and special dispatches from General Steuben. Also this private packet, which was lying waiting at King's Bridge Inn; I have been four days on the road, owing to my horse having lamed himself when near Chatham, and I could not make time on the nag which stands at your door."
"King's Bridge," murmured Miss Euphemia; "then there is news of Clarissa. Brother, have I your permission?"—as General Wolcott gave the small packet into her hand.
"Break the seals," said the general briefly, "and bring me the letters presently to my study. See that the horse and man be well taken care of; I may have to dispatch instant answer to these," and he went quickly down the hall, closing the door behind him.
With fingers that trembled somewhat, Miss Euphemia opened the cover, and disclosed three letters to the eager eyes of the girls, who stood breathless beside her.
"One for your father (it is Gulian Verplanck's hand), this for me, from Clarissa, and the smaller one for you, Betty; let us go into the sitting-room and read ours together."
"None for me?" said Pamela's despairing voice, with a sob treading on the words; "oh, I fear me some evil has befallen Josiah."
"No, no," whispered Betty, stealing her hand lovingly into her sister's, as she pulled her gently into the room; "father has the dispatches; these are but the long-looked-for letters from New York, Pamela, and I'll wager there is something from Josiah among father's packets. Let us see what my letter says," and Betty, having seated Pamela and Sally on the settle, placed herself on a convenient cricket, and broke the seal of her letter. But before her eyes had time to see more than "Dearest Betty," she was interrupted by a sudden exclamation from her aunt.
"Clarissa has been at death's door," cried Miss Euphemia, startled out of her usual composure. "I knew this long silence boded no good. Listen, I will read it," and the three girls gathered round her chair at once.