As she spoke, Eliza threw it about her round white throat, and tossed her head, the exact copy of sister Miriam.
But Dicey was too absorbed to notice her companion’s small frivolities. Her thoughts were solely on how to get word to her brother of the impending arrival of “Bloody Bates” in the neighbourhood. Fears for the safety of her own home were not wanting, since Henry, the only brother left at the old homestead, was but waiting the summons to go and join the command of Colonel Hugh Middleton.
As Dicey walked slowly home along the bridle path which served for a road in that sparsely settled region, her mind had not thought of any plan by which her message was to be sent to her brother and his friends. Yet over and over the words formed themselves in her brain, “They must be told, they must be told.”
Her father was feeble, and these years of anxiety and of hard work since his sons had been called away from home to bear their share of hardships in the War to which there seemed no end, had enfeebled him still more. From him the news must be kept at any risk. Perhaps brother Henry would go; but while this thought passed through her mind, she saw him coming through the wood on his horse.
“I have ridden this way to tell you good-bye, little sister. Even now word was brought that I must join my company. Come hither”; and as Dicey ran to his side he bent down, saying, “Set thy foot on my stirrup, I have that to say which must not be spoken aloud.”
As Dicey did as he bade her, and stood poised on his stirrup leather, holding tightly to his hand, he whispered in her ear,—
“Be brave, little sister, and take the best care you can of father. He is ill and weak, and it vexes me sorely to leave such a child as you with no one stronger to protect you. Yet go I must, and I trust that before long Thomas may come for you and my father, or that Batty will return.”
As Dicey looked into her brother’s troubled face, the thought that he must not be told rushed upon her. Go he must, and they must take such care of themselves as they could. So she leaned forward, and said as cheerfully as possible,—
“Never fear for us, brother. There is no danger for father and me, for sure none would attack an old man and a young maid. See, I am not in the least afraid.”
“I could leave you with a better heart if I thought that were the truth, yet even as we have spoken thy cheeks have grown as white as milk, and see, your hand trembles like a leaf in the wind!”