CHAPTER VI.
THE INTERCEPTED MESSAGE.
While this unhappy interlude was passing, a far greater sorrow waspreparing. Captain Macpherson went at once to his colonel with thepebble-sent note. He told himself that his duty to his King and hiscolors demanded it, and that no harm could come to the two women exceptsuch as was reflected from the trouble that saucy young man might beentitled to. He had no objections to giving him trouble; he felt that heought to be made to understand a little better what was due to anofficer of the King. _"That Scot!"_ He flung his plaid passionately overhis shoulder and stamped his foot with the offended temper of centuriesof Macphersons. As for Maria, he would not think of her. He could notknow what the consequences of the interrupted tryst would be, but lether take them! A girl who could prefer quite a common-looking young manto himself needed a lesson. He said over and over that he had only donea duty he would have performed under any circumstances; and he keptreiterating the word "duty,"--still he knew right well that duty in thiscase had been powerfully seconded by jealousy and by his personaloffense.
What action his colonel would take he knew not. He desired to be excusedfrom any part in it, because of the Semple's hospitality to him. Hisrequest was granted; and then he went to his rooms hot with uncertainexcitement. The colonel had no sentimental reasons for ignoring whatmight prove a valuable arrest. Nothing had provoked General Clinton morethan the ubiquitous nature of Washington's spies. They were everywhere;they were untiring, unceasing and undaunted. The late reverses, whichhad mortified every English soldier, had been undoubtedly brought aboutby the false reports they spread,--no one knew by whose assistance,--andthis night might be a turning-point in affairs.
He ordered ten picked men to wait for the boat at Semple's landing. Theplace was easily reached; they had but to walk to the bottom of thefence, climb over it, and secrete themselves in the little boathouse, oramong the shrubbery, if it had yet foliage enough to screen them. Helooked over his roll of suspects and found Madame Semple's name amongthem. Likely enough, her family sympathized with her. It would at leastbe prudent to secure the husband and son. If they were good royalists,they could easily prove it. Then he sat down to smoke and to drinkbrandy; he, too, had done his duty, and was not troubled at all aboutresults. The Semples, to him, were only two or three out of sixtythousand reputed royalists in the city. If they were honest, they hadlittle to fear; if they were traitors, they deserved all they wouldcertainly get from Clinton in his present surly mood.
Quite unconscious of what was transpiring, John Bradley was eating afrugal supper of oatmeal and bread and cheese, and telling his daughterabout a handsome saddle that was going up the river to "the man in allthe world most worthy of it." Elder Semple was asleep, and Madame, lyingin the darkness, was softly praying away her physical pain and hermental anxieties. Suddenly she heard an unusual stir and the prompt,harsh voices of men either quarreling or giving orders.
"It is on our ain place!" and a sick terror assailing her, she cried:"Wake up! Wake up, Alexander! There's men at the door, and angry men,and they're calling you!"
Neil, who was sitting dressed in his room, instantly answered thesummons, and was instantly under arrest; and as no effort was made toprevent noise or confusion, the tumult and panic soon reached Maria. Shewas combing her hair to fretful thoughts, and a keen sense ofdisappointment; but when Madame entered the room wringing her hands andlamenting loudly, she let the comb fall and stood up trembling withapprehension.
"Maria! Maria! They are taking your grandfather and uncle to prison! Oh,God, my dear auld man! My dear auld man!"
"Grandmother! What are you saying? You must be mistaken--you must be!"
"Come, and see for yoursel';" and Madame flung open the window and witha shriek of futile distress cried, "Alexander, look at me! Speak to me."
At these words the Elder, who was standing with a soldier, lifted hisface to the distracted woman, in her white gown at the open window, andcried to her:
"Janet, my dearie, you'll get your death o' cold. It is a' a mistake. Goto your bed, dear woman. I'll be hame in the morning."
Neil repeated this advice, and then there was a sharp order and a smallbody of men marched forward, and in their midst Harry walked bareheadedand manacled. He tried to look up, for he had heard the colloquy betweenthe Elder and his wife, and understood Maria might be also at thewindow; but as he turned his head a gigantic Highlander struck him withthe flat of his sword, and as the blow fell rattling on the youth'sshoulder Maria threw up her hands with a shriek and fell into a chairsobbing.
"Dinna cry that way, Maria, my dearie; they'll be hame in the morning."
"Yes, yes, grandmother! It was the blow on that last prisoner. Did yousee it? Did you hear it? Oh, what a shame!"
"Poor lad! I know naething about him; but he is in a terrible sairstrait."
"What is he doing here in our house? Surely you know, grandmother?"
"I know naething about him. He is doubtless one o' Washington'smessengers--there's plenty o' them round. Why he came near us is mairthan I can say." Then a sudden fear made her look intently at Maria, andshe asked, "Do you think your Uncle Neil has turned to the Americancause?"
"Oh, grandmother, how can you?"
"He has been so much wi' that Agnes Bradley. My heart misgave me at thefirst about her. Neil is in love, and men in love do anything."
"Uncle Neil is as true a royalist as grandfather."
"See, then, what they have, baith o' them, got for standing by KingGeorge. It serves them right! It serves them right! O dear, dear me!What shall we do?"
Two weary hours were spent in such useless conversation; then Madame,being perfectly exhausted, was compelled to go to bed. "We can donaething till morning," she said; "and Neil will hae his plans laid bythat time. They will be to bail, doubtless; and God knows where thefriends and the money are to come from. But there's plenty o' time forgrief to-morrow; go and sleep an hour or two now."
"And you, grandmother? What will you do?"
"He who never fails will strengthen me. When the morn comes I shall beable for all it can bring. This was such a sudden blow I lost my grip."
Alone in her room, Maria felt the full force of the sudden blow.Although Harry's note had missed her, she understood that he had beenwaiting for a few words with her. Twice before she had been in thegarden when he passed up the river, and he had landed and spent adelicious half-hour with her. She was sure now that he had been as muchdisappointed as herself, and had hoped she would come and say good-byeas soon as she reached home. But who had betrayed him? And why was hergrandfather and uncle included in his arrest?
For some time she could think of nothing but her lover walking soproudly in the midst of his enemies; reviled by them, struck by them,yet holding his head as authoritatively as if he was their captain,rather than their prisoner. Then she remembered Agnes, and at first itwas with anger. "If she had not been so selfish, Harry would not haveneeded to take such a risk!" she cried. "It is dreadful! dreadful! Andjust as soon as it is light I must go and tell her. Her father must nowknow all; he ought to have been told long ago. I shall insist on hertelling now, for Harry's life is first of all, and his father has powersome way or other."
Thus through the long hours she wept and complained and blamed Agnes andeven herself, and perhaps most of all was angry with the intrusiveMacpherson, whose unwelcome presence had been the cause of the trouble.And, oh! what arid torturing vigils are those where God is not! Madamelying on her bed with her hands folded over her breast and thoughtsheavenward, was at peace compared with this tumultuous little heart inthe midst of doubt, darkness, and the terror of dreadful death for onedear to her. She knew not what to abandon, nor what to defend; her brainseemed stupefied by calamity so inevitable. And yet, it was notinevitable; it had depended for many minutes on herself. A word, a look,and Agnes would have understood her desire; and half a dozen timesbefore she had made the movement which was just _too late;_ her hearthad urged her to call her friend. But
she had doubted, wavered, anddelayed, and so given to Destiny the very weapons that were used againsther.
As soon as the morning dawned she dressed herself. Before hergrandmother came down stairs it was imperative on her to see Agnes andtell her what had happened. A dismal, anxious stillness had succeededthe storm of her terror and grief; a feeling of outrage, of resentmentagainst events, and an agony of love and pity, as she remembered Harrysmitten and helpless in the power of a merciless foe. She had now onedriving thought and purpose--the release of her lover. She must save thelife he had risked for her sake, though she gave her own for it.
As she went through the gray dawning she was sensitive to someantagonism, even in Nature. The unseasonable warmth of the previousevening had been followed by a frost. The faded grass snapped under herfleet steps, the last foliage had withered during the night, and wasblack and yellow as death, and everything seemed to shiver in the palelight. And though the waning moon yet hung low in the west, and all themystery and majesty of earth was round her, Maria was only conscious ofthe chill terror in her heart, and of the chill, damp mist from theriver which enfolded her like a cloak, and was the very atmosphere ofsorrow.
When she reached the Bradley home all was shut and still; the very houseseemed to be asleep, but why did its closed door affect her sopainfully? She went round to the kitchen and found the slave womanMosella bending over a few blazing chips, making herself a cup of tea.The woman looked at her wonderingly, and when Maria said, "Mosella, Imust see Miss Agnes at once," she rose without a word and opened thegarden door of the house. The shutters were all closed, the stairwaydim, and the creaking of the steps under her feet made her quiver. Itwas an hour too early for light and life, and a noiseless noise aroundher seemed to protest against this premature invasion of the day.
She entered the room of her friend very softly. It was breathless,shadowy, and on the white bed Agnes was lying, asleep. For a momentMaria stood looking at the orderly place and the unconscious woman. Thepure pallor of her cheeks had the flush of healthy sleep; her brownhair, braided, lay loose upon her pillow, her white hands upon the whitecoverlet. She was the image of deep, dreamless, peaceful oblivion. Itseemed a kind of wrong to awaken her; but though the eyes of Agnes wereclosed, Maria's gaze called to the soul on guard behind them, andwithout one premonitory movement she opened them wide and saw Maria ather bedside. A quick fear leaped into her heart. She was momentarilyspeechless. She laid her hand on Maria's arm, and looked at her withapprehending inquiry.
_"Harry!"_ said Maria, and then she sat down and covered her face andbegan to cry softly. There was no necessity to say more. Agnesunderstood. She rose and began to dress herself, and in a few minutesasked, though almost in a whisper:
"Is he taken?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"At our landing."
"When?"
"Last night."
"Why did you not send me word last night? Neil would have come."
"Neil was arrested, and also my dear old grandfather. It is shameful!shameful!"
"What was Harry doing at your landing?"
"I don't know. I was in my room. I was half-undressed, combing my hairout, when grandmother rushed to me with the news. It is not my fault,Agnes."
"Did you ever meet Harry at your landing, Maria?"
"Only twice, both times in the daylight. He was passing and happened tosee me. There was no tryst between us; and I know nothing about lastnight, except----"
"Except what?"
"That if you had given him a chance to say 'Good-bye' to me here, hewould not have thought of stopping at our landing; but," she added in aweary voice, "you were watching for Uncle Neil, and so, of course, youforgot other people."
"Don't be cruel, Maria, as well as unjust."
"All the same, it is the truth."
"How was he discovered? You surely know that?"
"No, I do not. There were at least ten or twelve soldiers--Highlanders.One of them struck Harry."
"Oh, why do you tell me? Who could have betrayed him? Macpherson? Youknow you offended him."
"It could not be Macpherson. He never saw Harry before. He knew nothingabout him. He thought his name was Deane. If it had been Macpherson,your landing, not ours, would have been watched."
"No; for he saw you and Harry coming through the garden hand-in-hand. Iam sure he did. He went away in a fit of jealousy, and he would think ofyour landing as well as ours. But all that is nothing. We have but a fewhours in which to try and save his life. I must awake father and tellhim. It will break his heart."
"You ought to have told him----"
"I know."
"What can I do?"
"Women can do nothing but suffer. I am sorry with all my soul for you,Maria, and I will let you know what father does. Go home to your poorgrandmother; she will need all the comfort you can give her."
"I am sorry for you, Agnes; yes, I am! I will do anything I can. Thereis Lord Medway, he loves me; and General Clinton loves him, I know hedoes; I have seen them together."
"Father is first. I must awaken him. Leave me now, Maria, dear. None butGod can stand by me in this hour."
Then Maria kissed her, and Agnes fell upon her knees, her arms spreadout on her bed and her face buried in them. There were no words givenher; she could not pray; but when the Gate of Prayer is closed the Gateof Tears is still open. She wept and was somewhat helped, though it wasonly by that intense longing after God which made her cry out, "O that Iknew where to find Him, that I might come into His presence!"
When she went to her father's door he was already awake. She heard himmoving about his room, washing and dressing, and humming to himself instrong snatches a favorite hymn tune; no words seemed to have come tohim, for the melody was kept by a single syllable that served to connectthe notes. Nevertheless, the tone was triumphant and the singer full ofenergy. It made Agnes shiver and sicken to listen to him. She sat downon the topmost stair and waited. It could not be many minutes, andnothing for or against Harry could be done till the world awoke and wentto business. Very soon the hymn tune ceased, and there was a few minutesof a silence that could be felt, for it was threaded through by a low,solemn murmur easy to translate,--the man was praying. When he came outof his room he saw Agnes sitting on the stair, and as soon as she liftedher face to him he was frightened and asked sharply:
"What are you doing there, Agnes? What has happened?"
She spoke one word only, but that word went like a sword to the father'sheart,--_"Harry!"_
He repeated the word after her: "Harry! Is he ill? Let me see theletter, where is he? With Doctor Brudenel? Can't you speak, girl?"
"Harry is here, in New York, in prison?"
The words fell shivering from her lips; she raised herself, watching herfather's face the while, for she thought he was going to fall. He shooklike a great tree in a storm, and then retreated to the door of his roomand stood with his back against it. He could not speak, and Agnes wasafraid.
"Father," she said in a low, passionate voice of entreaty, "we have theboy to save. Do not lose yourself. You have _your Father_ to lean upon."
"I know! I feel! Go and make me a cup of coffee. I will be ready whenyou call me."
Then he went back into his room and shut the door, and Agnes, with asick, heavy heart, prepared the necessary meal. For though danger,sorrow and death press on every side, the body must have sustenance; andevery-day meals, that look so tragically common and out of place must goon as usual. But it was a little respite and she was grateful, becausein it her father would talk the trouble over with God before she had toexplain it to him. The interval was a short one, but during it JohnBradley found Him who is "a very present help in every hour of need." Hecame down to his coffee in full possession of himself and ready for thefight before him. But he had also realized the disobedience which hadbrought on this sorrow, and the deception which had sanctioned the boyin his disobedience. Therefore Agnes was afraid when she saw his severeeyes, and shrank from them as
from a blow, and large tears filled herown and rolled down her white cheeks unchecked.
"Agnes," he said, "tell me the whole truth. I must know everything, oryou may add your brother's murder to the other wrongdoing. When did hecome back to America?"
"Six months after you sent him to England. He said he could not, durstnot, stay there. He thought that God might have some work that needed_just him_ to do it. I think Harry found that work."
"Why did you not tell me at the time?"
"I was in Boston, at school, when Harry first came to me, and we talkedtogether then about telling you. But at that time both of us supposedyou to be a King's man, and the party feeling was then riotously cruel.Harry had been three months with Washington, and his peculiar fitnessfor the New York Secret Service had been found out. Still, Washingtontook no unfair advantage of his youth and enthusiasm. He told him hewould be one of a band of young men who lived with their lives in theirhands. And when Harry answered, 'General, if I can bring you informationthat will help Freedom forward one step, my life gladly for it,'Washington's eyes shone, and he gave Harry his hand and said, 'Braveboy! Your father must be a happy man.'"
She paused here and looked at the father, and saw that his face waslifted and that a noble pride strove with a noble pain for the mastery.So she continued: "Harry _has_ helped Freedom forward. He found out,while pretending to fish for the garrison at Stony Point, the best wayacross the marsh and up the rocks. He helped to set afloat the reportsthat brought Tryon back from Connecticut, and the garrison from RhodeIsland. He has prepared the way for many a brave deed, taken all thedanger and the labor, getting no fame and wanting none, his only aim toserve his country and to be loved and trusted by Washington. If we erredin keeping these things from you, it has been an error of love. And whenwe knew you also were serving your country in your own way, Harry wassure you would do it better and safer if you were not always looking forhim--fearing for him. Oh, father! surely you see how his presence wouldhave embarrassed you and led to suspicion."
"I would like to have seen the boy," he said, softly, as if he werethinking the words to himself.
"He saw you often, never came to the city without passing the shop tosee you; and it made both of us happy to believe that very soon now hewould dare to speak to you and to say, 'Father, forgive me.'"
"I must go to him, Agnes. Harry's life must be saved, or I, JohnBradley, will know the reason why. Yes, and if he has to die there aresome big men here, playing double-face, that will die with him. I knowthem----"
"Oh, father! father! What are you saying? Vengeance is not ours. Wouldit bring Harry back to us?"
"It is more than I can bear. Who was the informer? Tell me that. Andwhere was he taken?"
"I cannot tell who informed. He was taken with his little boat at ElderSemple's landing by a party of Scotch Highlanders."
"What on earth was he doing at Semple's? Do you think the Elder, or thatfine gentleman Neil, gave information?"
"They were both arrested with Harry. They also are in prison."
"Am I losing my senses? The Semples! They are royalists, knownroyalists, bitter as gall. What was Harry doing at their place? Tellme."
"I do not certainly know, father. I think he may have gone there hopingthat Maria would come down to the river to say a good-bye to him."
_"Maria!_ That is it, of course. If a man is to be led to destructionand death, it is some woman who will do the business for him. I warnedyou about that Maria. My heart misgave me about the whole family. SoHarry is in love with her! That is your doing, girl. What business hadyou to let them meet at all? If Harry perishes, I shall find it hard toforgive you; hard to ever see you again. All this sorrow for yoursentimental nonsense about Maria. If she had been kept out of Harry'slife, he would have gone safely and triumphantly on to victory with therest of us. But you must have your friend and your friend's brother, andyour own brother must pay the price of it."
"Oh, father, be just! Even if you cannot pity me, be just. I amsuffering as much as I can bear."
Then he rose and put on his hat and coat. "Stay where you are," he said."I will not have women meddling with what I have now to do. Don't leavethe house for anyone or anything."
"You will send me some word, father. I shall be in an agony ofsuspense."
"If there is any word to send, I will send it." Then he went awaywithout kissing her, without one of his ordinary tender words; he lefther alone with her crushing sorrow, and the consciousness that upon herhe would lay the blame of whatever disaster came to Harry. She had noheart for her household duties, and she left the unwashed china and wentback to her room. She was yet in a state of pitiful bewilderment; hergrief was so certain, its need was so urgent, and at that hour Heavenseemed so far off; and yet she questioned her soul so eagerly for thewatchword that should give her that stress of spirit which would connecther with the Unseen World and permit her to claim its invincible help.
Agnes had told her father that it was Highlanders who arrested Harry,and Bradley went first to their quarters. There he learned that theyoung man had disclaimed connection with any regiment whatever; and,being in citizen's clothes and wearing no arms, his claim had beenallowed and his case turned over to the Military Court of Police. So farit was favorable; the cruel haste of a court martial shut the door ofhope; but John Bradley knew the Court of Police was composed of men whoput financial arguments before all others. He was, however, too early,an hour too early, to see any one; and the prisoner was under watch inone of the guard-houses and could not be approached.
He wandered back to his shop utterly miserable and restless and wrote aletter to Thomas Curtis, a clever lawyer, and a partner of Neil Semple,explaining the position of his son and begging him to be at the Court ofPolice when it opened. This letter he carried to the lawyer's office andpaid the boy in attendance to deliver it immediately on the arrival ofhis master. Then he went back to his shop for money, and as he wasslowly leaving the place Lord Medway spoke to him. He had his rifle overhis shoulder and was going with a friend to Long Island to shoot birds.The sight of the man made John Bradley's heart leap and burn. He hadbeen waiting for some leading as to the way he ought to take, and hefelt that it had been given him.
"Good morning, Mr. Bradley," said the nobleman.
"My lord, turn back with me to my shop. I have something of the greatestimportance to tell you."
Medway smiled: "My hunting is of the greatest importance at present, Mr.Bradley, for my friend, Colonel Pennington, is waiting for me; but if Ican be of service----"
"I think you can; at least, listen to me."
Medway bent his head in acquiescence, and Bradley led the way to thesmall room behind his shop, which had been his sitting and dining roomwhile his daughter was at school. He plunged at once into the subject ofhis anxieties.
"There was a prisoner taken last night."
"A young man in a boat; I heard of it. General Clinton thinks they mayhave made an important arrest."
"He is my son--my only son! I did not know until an hour ago that he wasin America. I sent him to England at the beginning of the war--to a fineschool there--and I thought he was safe; and he has been here, one ofWashington's scouts, carrying messages from camp to camp, in and out ofNew York in all kinds of disguises, spreading reports and gatheringreports, buying medicines, and clothing, and what not; doing, in short,duties which in every case were life and death matters. For three yearsor more he has done these things safely; last night he was discovered."
"And you thought he was in England, safe and comfortable, and learninghis lessons?"
"I did, and thanked God for it."
"Now, I would offer thanks for the other things. If I were an Americanit would gladden my heart to have a son like that. The young man thinkshe has been doing his duty; be a little proud of him. I'll be bound hedeserves it. Who arrested him?"
"Some soldiers from the Highland regiment."
"How did they happen to know? Could Macpherson have informed? Oh,impossible! What a
m I saying? Where was he taken?"
"At Elder Semple's landing."
"You confound me, Bradley. I will stake my honor on the Semples'sloyalty--father and son both. What was he doing there?"
"He had the old reason for calamity--a woman. He is in love with theElder's granddaughter, and Agnes thinks he must have landed hoping tosee her."
"You mean, he had a tryst with her?"
"I only surmise. I can tell nothing surely."
"I will go with you to court, Bradley. Can you send a man with a messageto Colonel Pennington?"
This done they went out together, and many looked curiously at the lordand the saddler walking the streets of New York in company. For in thosedays the lines of caste were severely drawn. When they entered thecourtroom the case of the Semples was being heard; but Harry sat alittle apart, on either side of him a soldier. The father fixed hiseyes upon him, and a proud flush warmed his white face at the sight ofthe lad's dauntless bearing and calm, almost cheerful, aspect.
Lord Medway looked first toward the Semples, and conspicuously bowed toboth of them. The Elder was evidently sick, fretful, and suffering. Neilwas wounded in every fiber of his proud nature. The loyalty, the honor,the good name of the Semples had been, he believed, irrevocably injured;for he was lawyer enough to know that it is nearly as bad to besuspected as to be guilty. And, small as the matter seemed incomparison, he was intensely mortified at the personal disarray of hisfather and himself. The men who arrested them had given them no time toarrange their clothing, and Neil knew they looked more suspiciouslyguilty for want of their clean laces and the renovating influences ofwater and brushes.
The assistant magistrate, Peter DuBois, was just questioning ElderSemple.
"Look at the prisoner taken on your premises, Mr. Semple. Do you knowhim?"
"I never saw him in a' my life before his arrest."
"Did you know he was using your landing?"
"Not I. I was fast asleep in my bed."
"Mr. Neil Semple, what have you to say?"
"I was sitting partially dressed, reading in my room. I have noknowledge whatever of the young man, nor can I give you any reason whyour landing should have been used by him."
Mr. Curtis then spoke eloquently of the unstained loyalty of theSemples, and of their honorable life for half a century in the city ofNew York. But Peter DuBois held that they were not innocent, inasmuch asthey had been so careless of His Majesty's interests as to permit theirpremises to be used for treasonable purposes.
"The Court must first prove the treasonable purposes," said Mr. Curtis.
"The Court proposes to do so," answered DuBois. "Henry Deane, stand up!"and as he did so Bradley uttered a sharp cry and rose to his feet also.In this hour Harry looked indeed a son to be proud of. He showed nofear, and was equally free from that bluster that often cloaks fear, butraised a face calm and cheerful--the face of a man who knows that he hasdone nothing worthy of blame.
"Henry Deane," said DuBois, "is there anyone in New York who knows you?"
_"I do!"_ shouted John Bradley. "He is my son! My dear son, Henry DeaneBradley;" and with the words he marched to his son's side and threw hisarms about his neck.
"Oh, father! father, forgive me!"
"Oh, Harry! Harry! I have nothing to forgive!" and he kissed him in thesight of the whole court, and wept over him like a mother.
The whole affair had been so sudden, so startling and affecting, that itwas not at once interrupted. But in a few moments the examinationproceeded, DuBois asking, "Do you know the Semples?"
"I have seen them often. I have never spoken to either of them in all mylife."
"What took you to their landing, then?"
"I know it so well. When I was a little boy I used to borrow ElderSemple's boat if I wished to fish or row, because I knew they were busyin the city and would not miss it. So I got used to their landing yearsago."
"Had you any special reason for going there last night?"
"Yes. It was a good place to wait until the moon rose."
"No other reason?"
"Habit."
"Nothing to get there?"
"Nothing at all."
"No one to see there?"
"No one."
Lord Medway sighed heavily. The words were a tremendous relief. If theyoung man had named Maria it would have been shameful and unbearable. Hebegan now to take more interest in him.
"You refused to tell last night," said DuBois, "to whom you werecarrying the clothing and _the saddle_ that was in your boat. Will younow name the person or persons?"
"No. I refuse to name them."
"From whom did you receive or purchase these articles?"
"I refuse to say."
"Perhaps from the Semples?"
"Certainly not. I never received and never bought a pin's worth from theSemples."
In fact, no evidence of complicity could either be found or manufacturedagainst the Semples, and Mr. Curtis demanded their honorable acquittal.But they were good subjects for plunder, and DuBois had alreadyintimated to Judge Matthews how their purses could be reached. Inpursuance of this advice, Judge Matthews said:
"The loyalty of Alexander Semple and of his son, Neil Semple, cannot bequestioned; but they have been unfortunately careless of His Majesty'srights in permitting their premises to be of aid and comfort to rebels;and therefore, as an acknowledgment of this fault, and as a preventativeto its recurrence, Alexander Semple is fined two hundred pounds and NeilSemple one hundred pounds. The prisoners are free upon their ownrecognizances until the fifteenth day of November, when they must appearin this court and pay the fines as decided."
The Elder heard the decision in a kind of stupefaction. Neil, neither byhimself or his lawyer, made any protest. What use was there in doing so?They had been sentenced by a court accountable to no tribunal whatever:a court arbitrary and illegal, that troubled itself neither with juriesnor oaths, and from which there was no appeal. Lord Medway watched theproceedings with indignation, and the feeling in the room was full ofsympathy for the two men. Neil's haughty manner and stern face betrayednothing of the anger he felt, but the Elder was hardly prevented fromspeaking words which would have brought him still greater loss. As itwas, it taxed Neil's strength and composure to the uttermost to get hisfather with dignity away from the scene. He gave him his arm, andwhispered authoritatively, "Do not give way, father! Do not open yourlips!" So the old gentleman straightened himself, and, leaning heavilyon his son, reached the lobby before he fell into a state bordering oncollapse.
Neil placed him in a chair, got him water, and was wondering where hecould most easily procure a carriage, when the sound of wheels coming ata furious rate arrested his attention. They stopped at the court house,and as Neil went to the door the lovely Madame Jacobus sprang out of thevehicle.
"Neil!" she cried. "Neil Semple! I only heard an hour ago, I came assoon as the horses were ready, it is disgraceful. Where is the Elder?Can I take him home?"
"Madame, it will be the greatest kindness. He is ready to faint."
The Elder looked at her with eyes full of tears.
"Madame," he said, "they have fined me in my auld age for amisdemeanor"--and then he laughed hysterically. "I hae lived fifty yearsin New York, and I am fined--I hae----"
She stopped the quavering voice with a kiss, and with Neil's help ledhim gently to her carriage; and as soon as he reached its friendlyshelter he closed his eyes and looked like one dead. Madame was in atempest of rage. "It is just like the ravening wolves," she said. "Theysaw an opportunity to rob you,--you need not tell me, I know Matthews!He has the winter's routs and dances for his luxurious wife anddaughters to provide for, as well as what he calls his own 'damned gooddinners.' How much did he mulct you in? Never mind telling me now, Neil,but come and lunch with me to-morrow; I shall have something to say toyou then."
She had the Elder's hand in her's as she spoke, and she did not loosenher clasp until she saw him safely at his own home and in the care ofhis wife. Sh
e remained a few moments to comfort Madame Semple, then,divining they would be best alone with their sorrow, she went away witha reminder to Neil that she wished to speak to him privately on thefollowing day.
"It is as if God sent her," said Madame gratefully.
"Get me to my bed, Janet, dearie," said the Elder. "I'll just awa' outo' this warld o' sorrows and wrongs and robbery."
"You'll just stop havering and talking nonsense, Alexander. Are yougoing to die and leave me my lane for a bit o' siller? I'm ashamed o'you. Twa or three hundred pounds! Is that what you count your lifeworth? Help your father to his bed, Neil, and I'll bring him some gudemutton broth. He's hungry and faint and out o' his sleep--it tak'slittle to make men talk o' dying. Parfect nonsense!"
"You don't know, Janet Semple----"
"Yes, I do know, Alexander. Quit whining, and put a stout heart to asteep hill. You hae a wife and sons and friends yet about you, and youtalk o' dying! I'll not hear tell o' such things, not I!"
But when the Elder had taken a good meal and fallen asleep, Janet spokewith less spirit to her son. And Neil was in a still fury; he found itdifficult to answer his mother's questions.
"The money is to be found, and that at once," he said. "Father will notrest until it is paid; and I have not the least idea where I can procureit."
"You must sell some o' that confiscated property you and your fatherwared all your ready money on," said Janet bitterly.
"At the present time it is worth nothing, mother; and houses and landsare not sold at an hour's notice. I suppose if I ask Batavius DeVries hewill help father. I think Curtis can manage my share of the blackmail."
"That poor lad wha has made a' the mischief, what of him?"
"He is John Bradley's son." Then Neil described the scene in thecourtroom, and Madame's eyes filled with tears as she said, "I neverthought so well o' the Bradleys before. Poor Agnes!"
Yes, "poor Agnes!" Neil was feeling a consuming impatience to be withher, to comfort her and help her to bear whatever might be appointed.
"So the lad is to be tried in the Military Police Court. Is not that agood thing?"
"Yes. John Bradley has money. It is all the 'law' there is to satisfy inthat court."
"Are they trying him to-day?"
"Yes. I heard his case called as we left the room. Where is Maria?"
"She has cried herself blind, deaf and dumb. She is asleep now. I wentto tell her you were hame, and she was sobbing like a bairn that hasbeen whipped ere it shut its eyes. I dinna waken her."
Then Neil went to his room to dress himself. He felt as if no care andno nicety of apparel could ever atone for the crumpled disorder of histoilet in the courtroom, which had added itself so keenly to his senseof disgrace. Then he must go to Agnes; her brother was his brother,and, though he had brought such shame and loss on the Semples, still hemust do all he could for him, for the sake of Agnes. And there was themoney to find, and Madame Jacobus to see! A sense of necessary hastepressed him like a goad. Not a moment must be lost, for he felt throughevery sense of his mortal and spiritual being that Agnes was callinghim.