“Oh!” She was silent for a moment, and then she said, “If you feel guilty about Sally Rose, how do you think I feel about Tom Trask, the New Hampshire boy? How am I going to tell him I’ve taken a fancy to you?”
He did not answer, and after a moment she repeated her earlier question. “What were you afraid of when we went to Charlestown that night? It was sad, really, but I didn’t see any reason to be afraid.”
She remembered the forlorn look of the town, its cellar holes still smoking, only a few old houses left near the millpond, the moss on the gravestones scorched away. But they had found and brought back the silverware.
“I was afraid I might be recognized and sent to rejoin my regiment. You know I don’t want that to happen to me, Kitty.”
Kitty slipped out of his encircling arm and jumped to her feet. “I know,” she said. “That’s why I coaxed you to come and tell the whole thing to Colonel Stark. If he says you can stay here and be an American, then you’ll have no more cause to be afraid.”
“Suppose he says I’m a deserter and an enemy, and ought to be hanged on Cambridge Common? He may even think I’m a spy, Kitty.”
He stood up and held out both his hands. “I don’t think he’ll do that,” said Kitty slowly. “Colonel Stark ought to understand any man who wants to be an American. You can’t go on pretending always—always being afraid.”
They heard a throat cleared sharply on the other side of the low wall.
“Don’t you young folks have any other place to do your courting?” asked Colonel Stark.
Gerry turned quickly round, and Kitty drew a deep breath.