The sun shone brightly but the air was clear and cold. From a light rain of the previous night icicles had formed on the trees and gleamed like so many jewels. It seemed to the boy as though he had dreamed a long dream of wild forests, peopled with Indians, and was now awake and at home.
When Rodney arrived at “The Hall” he was met by the squire, who came to him with outstretched hands, saying, “My boy, you are a brave lad, and have placed me under greater obligations than I can ever hope to repay. I will write your father and tell him how grateful I am, and how proud he should be of you.”
“My father is dead, sir; he was killed in the battle at Point Pleasant.”
“You––you––er––I’m astounded! I hadn’t heard a word. Why, only the other day I was thinking of him.”
The unmistakable signs of grief in the squire’s face somewhat softened Rodney’s feelings. “You know Charlottesville did not afford father the opportunity to provide for his family as he wished and so he went over the mountains to take up land. When I was on my way to him I was captured by the Indians and held for a year. Meanwhile father, thinking I was dead, joined the army under General Lewis.”
“I never should have let him go away. I’ve wished him back every day since he went away,” and then the squire turned and walked to the window, where Mogridge had watched the effect of his plot and seen 170 David Allison turn his back and walk away never to return.
At this moment Enderwood came into the room. He was a fine looking fellow of nearly twenty, straight and rather tall, with dark hair and eyes, and had an air of breeding. Greeting Rodney cordially, as he looked at him keenly, he said, “Aunt Betty requested me to tell you that Lisbeth cannot leave her room. I fear her ankle is badly sprained and she was much shaken. She will regret not seeing you this morning.”
“Yes,” said the squire, turning from the window, “my little girl suffered more than was thought at the time, but I hope she will be up in a few days. Meanwhile you are to make ‘The Hall’ your home. I’m sure that you and Lawrence will find plenty with which to amuse yourselves.”
“Thank you, Squire Danesford; but I must go on. I came out of my way for the sake of riding through Pryndale and have already lost a day. I feared your daughter was hurt more than she would admit. She had an awful experience. I thought she would be dashed to pieces before her horse could be stopped.”
“Don’t speak of it, please. I haven’t slept for the night. But, surely, your business isn’t so urgent that you must away at once. I want to hear about your mother. You know she and I lived on adjoining plantations when we were children and were playmates. Now, my boy, I want you to bring your mother back to Pryndale. You should never have left it.”