Miss Stead colored slightly as she said that the gentlemen all complained of the strength of the last box of claret received from Charleston before the club was broken up.
"I hear that Colonel Washington is a fine swordsman," said Miss Elliott, "and that his troop are all bold riders. They have fought Tarleton's Legion once or twice in skirmishes, and they say the red-coats are rather shy of them."
Just at this point the conversation was interrupted by the entrance of Billy, bearing a peace-offering in the shape of a huge waiter of luncheon. Billy was butler and major-domo to the establishment, and the young ladies could not restrain their mirth at the profusion and variety with which the faithful fellow was evidently trying to make amends for the disappointment which his high sense of duty had compelled him to inflict upon them. Had there been a dozen instead of two, there would have been ample provision for their wants upon the broad silver salver. Cakes and jellies, preserves and sandwiches, tarts and ruddy apples, a decanter of sherry and a stand of liqueurs, left barely room enough for the dainty little plates and glasses, while Billy's special apology appeared in the form of two steaming little tumblers of rum-punch, the characteristic beverage of the day. All severity of tone and manner had disappeared, and there was something almost chivalric in the deferential smile and rude grace with which the old fellow handed his waiter to the ladies and assured them of the harmless mildness of the punch. Depositing his burden upon a little stand within easy reach of the sofa, Billy turned to leave, but paused as his eye wandered down the opening vista of the avenue, and after gazing for a moment in silence he suddenly exclaimed, "Dere's two sojer gemplemans comin' t'rough de big gate."
In an instant both the young ladies were on their feet and at the window, for such an announcement was cause enough for excitement in that time of war, when the "sojer gemplemans" might prove to be either friends or foes. Charleston had already narrowly escaped capture during the previous summer by General Prevost, who, although compelled to retire on Savannah, had worsted Lincoln's militia army, destroying about one-fourth of the little force. In October had occurred the disastrous, attack upon Savannah, in which the gallant Pulaski lost his life, and Jasper, the hero of Fort Sullivan, received his death-wound. Sumter, the "Game-Cock" of Carolina, had retired from the State with his handful of followers badly demoralized; Marion, the "Swamp-Fox," was concealed with his little band among the cypress-bays and canebrakes of the Pedee; and a tone of gloom and despondency prevailed among the people. In the neighborhood of Charleston all was uncertainty. The plantation residences were occupied chiefly by ladies, the gentlemen being generally with the army. Tarleton's Legion had become widely known and feared on account of the dashing forays which that famous command was constantly making under the lead of its brave and impetuous chief. No wonder, then, that the hearts of the two young ladies at Oaklands beat quick with anxiety as they strained their gaze down the avenue, uncertain whether they should see the hated scarlet uniforms of the British troopers or the welcome blue of the Continental cavalry.
But the "big gate" to which Billy had alluded was a full quarter of a mile distant, and although the first glance satisfied the excited watchers that their visitors were friends, little more could be certain until they should approach more nearly. Patience, however, was hardly to be expected under the circumstances, and its place was effectually supplied by a little red morocco-covered spy-glass which Miss Elliott took from the table. Scarcely was it brought to bear upon the approaching horsemen when she laid it down as suddenly as she had seized it, the rich color mantling to her forehead.
"Why, Jane," said her friend, "am I not to have a look at the strangers? Oh, I declare—yes, I do believe I know that horse. It must be—"
"It is Colonel Washington and some other officer whom I do not know," said Miss Elliott, who had regained her self-possession completely. "You have your wish, Rebecca."
The two visitors cantered rapidly up the broad avenue, and found Billy waiting to receive them. One was a tall, soldierly-looking man of about twenty-eight, his fine face bronzed by exposure, and his easy seat in the saddle betokening one who had been a horseman from his youth. He wore the blue coat with yellow facings and the buckskin breeches of the Continental cavalry, his red sash bound over a broad sword-belt which supported a strong sabre, while the handsome and well-muscled bay mare which he rode carried a leather portmanteau in addition to the heavy bearskin holster. His large cavalry-boots were well bespattered, and his whole bearing was that of an officer on duty, rather than of a gallant bent on visiting lady fair. His companion was a mere youth, seemingly not over seventeen, well mounted also, and dressed in the simple uniform of an orderly, but evidently the friend and social equal of his superior officer. The young man sat his horse with the ease and grace of one born to the saddle, and his fiery chestnut seemed to know and understand his rider thoroughly. Like the other, he was provided with holsters and portmanteau, a heavy blue cavalry cloak being strapped over the unstuffed saddle-tree. Entering the drawing-room, Colonel Washington presented his companion to Miss Elliott as "Mr. Peyton of Virginia," and both gentlemen were in turn presented to Miss Stead, who received their courtly bows with one of those graceful, sweeping courtesies which may be ranked among the lost arts of a past generation. Billy had followed the guests to the parlor-door, where he stood as if waiting orders.
"You seem to have ridden far," said: the fair hostess when the ordinary salutations had passed. "Let me order your horses to the stable to be fed."
"I thank you very kindly, miss, but there will be scarcely time, for we are under marching orders, and must be in Charleston before sunset," replied the colonel with a bow; and there was something in his tone which faintly suggested a mental desire to see the said marching orders in Jericho.