“Laura,” said he. “Don’t you know me?”
“Cousin Tom,” whispered she, delight mixed with fear. “Oh, what are you doing here? You have placed yourself in great danger; why did you come?”
“To see you.”
“To see me!”
“And to ask you if this, which is to take place here to-night, is with your free will.”
Laura did not answer, but sobbed.
“I see it is not,” proceeded Tom in the same low voice. “Laura, my mother always thought as much of you as if you had been her own daughter. And I will do and dare for you what I would do and dare for my own sister.”
“Tom, what do you mean?”
He had no chance to answer, for at this moment Jasper Harwood came hastily up and, with a searching, suspicious look at Tom, drew Laura away. Lieutenant Cheyne had come in accompanied by a crowd of young officers; Tarleton and Lord Cornwallis glittered among the gathering in their splendid uniforms; not a thing was wanting, in Tory Harwood’s mind, to make the occasion one of the utmost pomp and display.
The burly old Tory stood, with Laura, in the midst of his glittering guests.