“We are drawing in a lot of men from Germantown,” said Andre, “but for what I do not know. Ah, here comes the artillery!”
I watched them as we all sat in saddle, while regiment after regiment passed, the women admiring their precision and soldierly bearing. For my part, I kept thinking of the half-clad, ill-armed men I had seen go down these same streets a little while before. “I will go,” I said to myself; and in a moment I had made one of those decisive resolutions which, once made, seem to control me, and to permit no future change of plan.
By this time we were come to the bridge over Cohocsink Creek, I having become self-absorbed and silent. The colonel called my attention to his having dammed the creek, and thus flooded the low meadows for more complete defence. I said, “Yes, yes!” being no longer interested.
Mr. Shippen said, “We will cross over to the ‘Rose of Bath’ and have a little milk-punch before we ride back.” This was an inn where, in the garden, was a mineral water much prescribed by Dr. Kearsley. I excused myself, however, and, pleading an engagement, rode slowly away.
I put up my mare in my aunt’s stable, and went at once into her parlour, full of my purpose.
I sat down and told her both the talk of two days before with Tarleton and my cousin, and also that I had had in my boat.
She thought I had been foolishly frank, and said, “You have reason to be careful, Hugh. That man is dangerous. He would not fight you, because that would put an end to his relations with your father. Clerk Mason tells me he has already borrowed two hundred pounds of my brother. So far I can see,” she went on; “the rest is dark—that about Wyncote, I mean. Darthea, when once she is away, begins to criticise him. In a word, Hugh, I think he has reason to be jealous.”
“O Aunt Gainor!”
“Yes. She does not answer your letters, nor should she, but she answers them to me, the minx! a good sign, sir.”
“That is not all, aunt. I can stand it no longer. I must go; I am going.”