"You are no one's prisoner, madam," I replied, stirred suddenly by familiar tones in her voice; "you are under the protection, however, of Virginia troops commanded by Colonel McElroy, and will be conveyed to some place of safety acceptable to you as soon as possible." I had dismounted, meantime, and stood near her.
"Can it be Captain Donald McElroy, of Virginia?" she said in lowered and tremulous voice, at the same moment throwing back her veil, and revealing the face of Nelly Buford—fairer than ever in its setting of rich hair and banded crepe.
Does a man ever quite forget his first love? Has its remembrance always power to thrill him, even though the once lively sentiment be supplanted, or outlived? That the sound of Nelly's voice, and the touch of her hand, could yet thrill me, was, just now, a disturbing revelation. I felt myself disloyal to Ellen and so scorned myself for this fresh evidence of weakness, that I fear my manner to her was almost haughty.
Having dispatched a courier with my comforting news to General Lafayette, and sent my prisoners after him, under sufficient escort, I ordered the postilions, and some of my men, to right the carriage, and make the harness safe. Then I joined Nelly, and relieved her mind of all anxiety about her brother by telling her of his whereabouts, and the news I had had recently that he was convalescent, and would completely recover. Nelly's thanks were fervently expressed after which she proceeded to explain her present situation, and to give me her double reason for leaving the shelter her generous Quaker friends had for some months afforded her—the longing to find her brother, and the wish to relieve her host of the inconvenience and possible danger of harboring one of a family well-known to be strong Tory adherents.
The carriage having been made ready, Nelly and her maid were shut within, and, preceded and followed by mounted escort, Miss Buford was conveyed in state to General Lafayette's late headquarters. We found the army gone, and camp deserted, and I surmised, that, upon receipt of my courier's message, the general, seeing yet a chance to escape, had ordered an immediate advance. We followed, but did not overtake the hastily bivouacked army until past midnight.
No other accommodation than that Nelly's carriage offered was procurable, and so I regretfully informed her, to be cheerfully assured that she asked nothing better, if she might have cessation from jolting, and sense of security. The rest of the hot night I stood guard, watching the languid stars blink one by one to sleep, and waging lively warfare with the swarms of greedy mosquitoes, who constituted themselves surety for my vigilance. As soon as the first flush of morning tinged the eastern sky, I woke one of my men, and left him to guard the carriage while I sought General Lafayette. He was sound asleep under a tree with a gnarled root for pillow, his face and hands covered by his blanket to protect them from the swamp pests. Awakened by my step, he threw off his blanket, looked up at the sky, and muttered sleepily some unintelligible words in his own language.
"General Lafayette?" I said, stepping in front of him, and saluting, "I am Colonel McElroy, at present in command of a company of Virginia militiamen. Will you grant me a few moments of your time while the camp is getting ready to march?"
"Most certainly, Colonel McElroy," then, in the precise English of the cultivated foreigner, and with agreeable accent—"when I have thanked you for this valuable information sent me last evening. Ah, if fortune continues to favor us, we'll yet escape the bold Cornwallis, Colonel McElroy! But we must march unceasingly, till we meet the reinforcements of General Wayne. Then we'll give Cornwallis the fight he seems so much to wish, and show him what may be done by the united gallantry of America and France! But I retard your story, sir; command, now, my attention."
I related briefly the capture of the British stragglers, the rescue of the young lady, and added an account of my previous acquaintance with Miss Buford, and the debt of gratitude I felt myself under to her family. He listened with courteous attention, and responded with true French understanding of such obligation:
"You can do nothing less, Colonel McElroy, than escort the young woman in safety to her brother. Later I shall gladly detail such force to guard you as you may think necessary, but for the present it is safer that she remain with the army."