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  CHAPTER XIII

  I awoke in a flood of brightest sunshine which poured over the wallsof my chamber and bathed the sweet lavender-scented sheets on my bed.

  The water in the washing-bowl reflected the sunlight, and the whiteceiling above me wavered with golden-netted ripples. A gentle windmoved the curtains to and fro, a brisk breeze, yet saturated with thedisquieting taint of unknown odours, odours of a town whose streetsare thronged with strange people. Those bred within the strip whichruns along the borders of a wilderness find the air of townsconfusing, as a keen hound, running perdu, enters a vast runway wherea thousand pungent trails recross.

  Reconnoitring the room from my sunny couch, I poked my sun-warmedmuzzle out of the sheets, sniffing and inspecting the unfamiliarsurroundings. Then I cautiously stretched my limbs, and finding myselfsupple and sound, leaped lightly onto the rag-carpet in my bare feetand stood looking out of the window.

  This lodging whither Mount and Renard had piloted me when our convoypassed the ramparts of Fortress Pitt, was an inn called the "VirginiaArms," a most clean and respectable hostelry, though sometimessuspected as a trysting-place for rebels. James Rolfe, a Boston man,was our host, a thin-edged, mottled, shrewd-eyed fellow, whose nasalvoice sounded continually through the house from tap-room to garret,in sarcastic comment on his servants. I heard him now as I stood atthe window:

  "Oh, Hiram, yew dinged sack o' shucks, the gentleman in 27 is knockingon the floor! Jonas! A pot o' small-beer for the gentleman in 17! Lando' Goshen, yew run like a frost-nipped spider! The gentleman in 6 iswaiting for his wig! What's that? Waal, yew go right 'round tew thehairdresser's and tell him tew bring that wig! Hey? Yes, the wigdressed a-lar-Francy! Don't set there rubbing yewr chin like a dumnedchipimunk, Simon, while Mister Patrick Henry is waiting for them queueribbons from Corwin's. Eh? You fetched 'em? Well, why in the name o'Virginy can't you say so? Clean them buckles for the gentleman in 20,yew darned clam!"

  His penetrating, half-fretful, half-humorous voice died away towardsthe stables in the rear, and I parted the dainty curtains and peepedout into the streets of Pittsburg. Our inn stood on the corner of thetown square, opposite the village green. Across the square rose somewell-made barracks, painted white; I could see red-coated sentinelsposted at the gates and walking their beats along the west stockade. Afew handsome mansions faced the square, two churches and a publichouse completed the north side of the quadrangle. East and west shopsand smaller houses lined the streets; the green bush hung in thesunshine, the barber's basin swung and glittered among a forest ofgayly painted sign-boards.

  But the people! Lord, how they trooped by, passing, repassing,threading the alleys, streaming across the green, soldiers in scarletand buff, militia in brown and green, sober townsmen dressed as wedress in Johnstown, old gentlemen in snuffy smalls and big coats withbroad cuffs and silver buttons, the butcher, bared of arm and head,with the wind fluttering his apron, the baker, white and sallow as hisown muffins, ostlers, shop-keepers, chapmen, men in fustianshouldering pick or shovels, drovers in blue smocks carrying loopedsnake-whips. Now comes one in musty wig and steel spectacles, bulgingumbrella under one arm, inquisitive nose buried in a Marylandnewspaper--a schoolmaster!--or do I not know the breed. Anon, I seesome tall, awkward riflemen, loitering idly before signs or gawking upat the county court-house, where a gilt fish swims in the sky.

  Sometimes a horseman, in the uniform of Lord Dunmore's guards, trotsby gracefully, with a smile and low salute for his friends and a stareat the fresh-cheeked maids who steal demurely along, basket on arm, torifle the market for an early squash or a bunch o' green pease.

  Many citizens I notice are reading the newspapers as they walk; manymen meet and stop and converse eagerly, looking behind them at timesas though an eavesdropper might be near. With bell and clapper thevender of ginger and cocoa-nut pushes his cart before him; peddlers,bending under Delaware baskets or leather trays, stand in the street,calling their wares: "Colours for the races!" "Tablets!" "Pencils!""Chains!" "Cock-gaffs--steel or brass!" "Gentlemen's fancy!""Dog-bells!" "Ferret-bits!"

  A barefoot child in rags offers bills for the bull-baiting and for theTheatre Royal, crying in a thin, monotonous voice: "Race-week bills,my lords and gentlemen! Race-week bills for the Theatre Royal, mylady! Plays to be played--'The Beau's Stratagem,' 'Beggar's Opera,''The Devil to Pay,' 'The Fair Penitent,' 'The Virgin Unmasked!' and avariety of farces and merry pantomimes--and the bills are only apenny, my lady! The tickets to be had at Jamison's Coffee-House atfour shillings--the bill to be had of me, Rosalie, child of TannerBridewell--only a penny!"

  The pitiful voice in the sunshine touched me; I opened the window andtossed a shilling to the child, then hid behind the curtains while shekissed her palm at my window.

  The winding of a brass horn brought me out of my concealment to peepagain down into the street, where people were flocking around a publiccrier, who stood on a horse-block blowing his horn.

  "Attention! Attention!" he cried, unfolding a paper, and presentlycommenced to read his news to the crowd:

  "By permission of the Right Honourable Earl of Dunmore, Governor ofVirginia! Four days' sport on Roanoke Plain. The Colonial Cluboffering prizes of L100 and L50; the Richmond Club offering two pursesof L50. Attention! Sport on the Roanoke; an even and delightsomeplain, most sweet and pleasant. To-day the Nobleman's and Gentleman'sPurse of L50, free for any horse except Doctor Connolly's _Scimitar_,who won the plate last season. Second, a silver cup worth L12.Tuesday, County Subscription Purse of L50. No person will erect abooth or sell liquor without subscribing L2 to expenses of races.

  "Gentlemen fond of fox-hunting will meet at the Buckeye Tavern bydaybreak during the races.

  "God save the King!"

  He folded his paper, picked up his horn, and stepped down from thehorse-block. After a little while I heard his horn again, sounding atthe north angle of the square, and his strident voice, announcing theraces, came fitfully on the wind.

  I turned back into the room and began my toilet. How strange to findthis town, undisturbed in its rural pleasures, busy about its ownaffairs, while scarce a night's journey to the north the frontier wasin ashes, and the dead lay in the charred embers of their owndoor-sills!

  How strange to look out on the peace of these sunny streets, with thecinders of Cresap's camp still clinging to my hunting-shirt; with myown blood caking the sore on my arm where a Cayuga child had thrust alighted pine-splinter into my flesh! Strange!--ay, astonishing thatthese people here behind their fortress, their block-housen, theirearthworks and stockades, should forget those who dwelt beyond thegates, wresting the dark soil, inch by inch, from the giant pines ofthe wilderness.

  With a knife which Cresap had given me, I sat down to scrape the mudand filth from my hunting-shirt and to pick out the burrs and dockswhich clotted the fringe on my leggings.

  Sombre thoughts filled me; I had a hard role to play before LordDunmore; I had a harder role to act before Silver Heels, if she werestill here in Pittsburg.

  It gave me no pleasure to find myself so near her. The attitude shehad assumed towards me that last night in Johnstown had hurt enough toleave a scar. But when scars appear, wounds are healed; and so wasmine. It was true, I had never loved her as men love sweethearts. Hersudden and amazing appearance as a woman had aroused my curiosity; herpopularity and beauty my jealousy. It was hurt pride that tempered mewhen the playfellow I had tolerated and protected and tormented at mypleasure, tormented, tolerated, and finally ignored me.

  I did not love her when I aroused her contempt with my courtship ofMrs. Hamilton. I did not love her when I followed her to the pantry tobully her into according me her respect once more. It was vanity:vanity when I sulked because young Bevan took her from me; vanity whenI assailed the pretty ears of Mrs. Hamilton with callow cynicisms andfoolish wit. I scorned myself for having deceived my own heart withthe fancy that I had ever loved my cousin Silver Heels.

  Now that the demon Butler had been exorcised by Sir William
, and nowthat Sir William wished for my union with Silver Heels, and hadpromised me the means to maintain her as her rank required, Iunderstood plainly that I did not love her in that way. She was onlymy playfellow; she had never been anything else. I meant to see herand tell her so; I meant to ask her forgiveness for offending her; Imeant to seek her friendly confidence once more, to warn her that sheshould not tarry here in these troublous times, but return at once toJohnson Hall, where Sir William could protect her, not only from thesavages, but also from that creature whose every breath of life was anoffence to his Creator.

  Doubtless, Silver Heels would go with me. Dunmore would be obliged toprovide our escort; indeed, his Lordship would be glad enough to seeme leave his town of Pittsburg ere I had finished with my businesshere.

  I stood smoothing the thrums on sleeve and legging, somewhat ashamedto seek audience with anybody in such attire. I had money in my belt,enough to purchase clothing suitable to my station, but it was timethat I lacked, not means or inclination.

  I had laid my hand on the knob, intent on seeking breakfast below, andwas about to open the door, when somebody knocked. It was SaulShemuel, smiling and folding his hands over his belly--a greasyspectacle in sooth for a hungry stomach--and I scowled and bade himstate his business quickly in the devil's name.

  "Goot-day and greeding, sir," said the peddler, bowing and rubbinghimself against the door like a cat. "Gott save our country, Mr.Cardigan. You are oxpected to join the gendlemens in 13, sir. Mr.Mount begs you will hold no gonversation mit strangers hereabouts, norentertain no one until he sees you, sir."

  "Who are you, anyway, Shemuel?" I asked, curiously.

  "A peddler, Mr. Cardigan--only a poor peddler," he protested,spreading out his grimy fingers and peeping up cunningly. "Pray, donot look as if you knew me, sir, should you see me abroad in thestreeds, sir. But if you wish to speag to me, please to buy a buckle;one buckle if I shall seek you here, two buckles if I am to follow youin the streed, sir, three buckles if you would seek me in my lodgings,Mr. Cardigan. I live at the 'Bear and Cubs Tavern,' sir, on the King'sRoad."

  "Very well," I said, somewhat amused at the idea of my pining forShemuel's company under any circumstances. "Where is room 13, Shemuel?Eh? Oh, you appear to know this inn. Here's sixpence for you, Shemmy.That's right, cut away now!"

  "If I might speak von vort, sir," he began, hoisting his basket on hisback and looking slyly up at me as I passed him.

  "Well?" I said, impatiently.

  "I haf often seen you, sir, at Johnson Hall."

  "Well?"

  "And I haf also sold gilt chains to Miss Warren."

  "Well!" I demanded, sharply.

  "Miss Warren iss here in Pittsburg, sir," he ventured.

  "I supposed so," I said, coldly; "but that does not interest me."

  "Maybe," he said, spitefully, "you don'd know somedings?"

  "What things?"

  "Miss Warren weds mit Lord Dunmore in July."

  He was gone like a slippery lizard before I could seize him. Hevanished around the corridor ere my thoughts assembled from the shockthat had routed them. Now they began to rally pell-mell, and my cheeksburnt with scorn and anger, though I could not truly credit thepreposterous news. That unformed child thrown into the arms of a thinglike Dunmore! What possessed all these rakes and roues to gomad--stark, staring, March-mad--over my playfellow? What did an Earlwant of her--even this bloodless Dunmore with his simper and his snuffand his laces and his bird's claws for fingers? What the devil hadenchanted him to seek her for his wife; to make her Countess ofDunmore and the first lady in Virginia?

  And Silver Heels, had she sold her beauty for the crest on this man'scoach? Had she bargained her innocence for the rank that thistoothless conspirator and assassin could give her? How in God's namecould she endure him? How could she listen without scorn, look at himwithout loathing? An old man, at least a man who might be a rottenforty or a patched and mended sixty, with his painted face and hislipless line of a mouth--horror!--if she had seen him grinning andgumming his wine-glass as I had seen him--or sprawling on the carpet,too drunk to clean his own chin!

  Agitated and furious I paced the hallway, resolving to seek out mylady Silver Heels without loss of time or ceremony, and conduct herback to the nursery where the little fool belonged.

  Countess, indeed! I'd bring her to her senses! And wait!--only waituntil Sir William should learn of this!

  Somewhat comforted at the thought of the Baronet's anger and dismay, Ipocketed my excitement and began to search for the door of room 13,where, according to Shemuel, I was expected. I had forgotten thepeddler's directions; besides the house was unexplored ground for me,and I wandered about several corridors until I noticed apleasant-faced gentleman watching me from the stairs.

  He doubtless noticed my perplexity, for he bowed very courteously as Ipassed him and made some polite observation which required a civilanswer; and before I was fully aware of it, he had invited me to amorning cup with him in the tap-room.

  This was a trifle too friendly on short acquaintance; Shemuel'swarning to hold my tongue and avoid strangers instantly occurred tome. On my guard, I prayed him to pardon my declining, with manycompliments and excuses, which I heaped upon him to avoid the seemingdiscourtesy of refusing him my name.

  He was truly a most pleasant gentleman, a stranger in Pittsburg, so hesaid, and bearing very gracefully the title of captain and the name ofMurdy. He appeared most anxious to present me to his friend, DoctorConnolly, in the tap-room; but I begged permission to defer thehonour and left him, somewhat nonplussed, on the stairway.

  In a few moments I found room 13, and knocked. And, as I was usheredin, I glanced back at the stairway, and was annoyed to see my friendlyCaptain Murdy peering at me through the balustrade.

  It was Corporal Paul Cloud who admitted me, greeting me respectfully,and immediately closing and locking the door. The room was large; atable stood in the centre, around which were gathered Jack Mount, CadeRenard, Jimmy Rolfe, the landlord of the "Virginia Arms"; my formerhost, Timothy Boyd; and another man whom I had never before seen.Cresap was not there, but, in a corner, wrapped to the eyes in hisdark blanket, sat the bereaved Cayuga chief, Logan, staring at thefloor.

  The company were at breakfast, and when I approached to greet them,Mount jumped to his feet and gave me a warm handclasp, leading me to achair beside the only man whom I did not know.

  I saluted the stranger, and he bowed silently in return. He appearedto be a man of forty, elegantly yet soberly dressed, wearing his owndark hair, unpowdered, in a queue--a gentleman in bearing, in voice,in every movement--a thoroughbred to the tips of his smooth,well-ordered fingers. A pair of gold-rimmed spectacles which he worehad been pushed up over his forehead; now he lowered them to thebridge of his nose again, and looked at me gravely and searchingly,yet entirely without offence. The scrutiny of certain men sometimesconveys a delicate compliment.

  Mount, in a very subdued voice, asked permission to present me, andthe gentleman bowed, saying he knew my name from hearing of my father.

  As for his name, I think anybody in the colonies--ay, in London,too--would know it. For the gentleman beside whom I had been placedwas the famous Virginian, Patrick Henry, that fiery orator who hadbade our King mark well the lives of Caesar and Charles the First toprofit by their sad examples: and when the cries of "Treason!" dinnedin his ears, had faced a howling Tory Legislature with thecontemptuous words: "If this be treason--make the most of it!"

  Sideways I admired his delicate aquiline nose, his firm chin, therefinement of every muscle, every line.

  He drank sparingly; once he raised his glass to me and I had thehonour of drinking a draught of cinnamon cold-mulled with him.

  There was little conversation at table. Mr. Henry asked Boyd about theburning of Cresap's village, and the brave old man told the story in afew, short phrases. Once he spoke to Cloud about the militia.Presently, however, he left the table and sat down by Logan; and for along time we watched them to
gether, this sensitive, high-bred orator,and the sombre savage, burying his grief in the dark ruins of a brokenheart. Their blended voices sounded to us like the murmur of the deepthrilling chords of a harp, touched lightly.

  Mount came over beside me, and, resting his massive head on his hands,spoke low, "Cresap was arrested last night by Doctor Connolly,Dunmore's deputy, and is to be relieved of his command."

  "Is Doctor Connolly Dunmore's agent?" I asked, quietly. "Then he'shere in the house now."

  "I know it," said Mount. "He and his fawning agent, Murdy, arewatching the inn to learn who is here. By-the-way, my name is anythingyou please, if they ask you. It won't do for the Weasel and me toflaunt our quality in Pittsburg town. There was once a fat Tory judgewalking yonder on the highway, and--well, you know, moonlight andmischief are often abroad together. Curious, too, that this same fatjudge should have come to grief; for he once issued some valentines tome and the Weasel."

  I looked up sharply; Mount blinked mildly as a kitten who is filledwith milk.

  "Why did they arrest Cresap?" I asked.

  "Why? Oh, Lord, the town is full o' people blaming Dunmore for thisnew war. There was like to be a riot yesterday when one of Cresap'srunners came in with news of the rising. So Dunmore, frightened,called in Connolly and Murdy and they went about town swearing thatDunmore was innocent and that the wicked Cresap did it all. And nowConnolly has had Cresap arrested, and he swears that Dunmore willmake an example of Cresap for oppressing the poor Indians. There'syour Tory Governor for you!"

  Horrified at such hypocrisy, I could only gasp while Mount shruggedhis broad shoulders and went on:

  "But this rattlesnake, Dunmore, has bitten off more than he canpoison. Logan's here to demand justice on Greathouse. And now you arehere to protest in Sir William's name. Oh, it's a fine pickle Dunmorewill find himself swimming in."

  "When is Logan to have an audience with Dunmore?" I asked.

  "To-night, in the fortress. And, Mr. Cardigan, I took the liberty ofannouncing to the Governor's secretary, Gibson, that an envoy from SirWilliam Johnson had arrived with a message for Lord Dunmore. So youalso are to deliver your message to the Governor of Virginia in thehall to-night."

  "But," said I, puzzled, "does Dunmore expect a messenger from SirWilliam?"

  "Haven't you heard from Shemuel?" asked Mount. "I told him to tell youthat Dunmore wants to marry the beautiful Miss Warren, who's cuttingsuch a swath here. He sent his offer by runner to Sir William, and,being a Tory, an Earl, and Governor of Virginia, he naturally expectsSir William will throw the poor girl at his head!"

  I took Mount's arm in my hand and tightened my grip till he groaned.

  "Mark you, Mount," I said, choking back my passion, "this night myLord Dunmore will learn some things of which he is ignorant. One ofthem is that my kinswoman, Miss Warren, is betrothed to me!"

  The big fellow's eyes had grown wider and bluer as I spoke. When Ifinished he gaped at me like a dying fish. Suddenly he seized my handand wrung it till the whole table shook, and Mr. Henry looked at us indispleasure.

  "Tell the Weasel," said Mount, gently. "Tell him, lad. It will pleasehim. He's full o' sentiment; he'll never breathe a word, Mr. Cardigan;the Weasel's a gentleman. He dotes on love and lovers."

  Lovers! Love! The words fell harshly on my ear.

  I did not love Silver Heels; I did not want to wed her. But somethinghad to be done, and that quickly, if I was to take the silly, deludedgirl back to Johnstown with me.

  "Won't you tell the Weasel?" said Mount, anxiously.

  "You tell him," I said. "You must stick by me now, Jack Mount, for theLord knows what trouble lies before me ere I shake the Pittsburg dustoff my moccasins!"

  After a moment Mount said, "I suppose you don't know where Butler is?"

  "You mean to say that Butler is back in Pittsburg?" I asked, faintly.

  "He's in attendance on Dunmore, lad. Shemmy told me last night."

  "Very well," said I, smacking my suddenly parched lips. "I will killhim before I leave Pittsburg."

  Mr. Henry rose from his seat beside Logan and came over to where I wasstanding by the window.

  "Mr. Cardigan," he said, "I know from Mount something concerning yourmission here. I know you to be a patriot, and I believe that yourhonourable guardian, Sir William Johnson, will aid us with all hisheart in whatever touches the good of our country. Am I not right?"

  "Sir William's deeds are never secret, sir," I replied, cautiously."All men may read his heart by that rule."

  "Sir William has chosen in you a discreet deputy, to whom I beg to paymy sincerest compliments," said Mr. Henry, smiling.

  "I can say this, sir," I replied, with a bow; "that I have heard himmany times commend your speeches and the public course which youpursue."

  "Sir William is too good," he replied, bowing.

  "Ay, sir," I said, eagerly; "he is good! I do believe him to be thegreatest and best of men, Mr. Henry. I am here as his deputy, thoughwithout orders, now that my mission to Colonel Cresap has failed. But,sir, I shall use my discretion, knowing Sir William's mind, and thisnight I shall present to my Lord Dunmore a reckoning which shall notbe easily cancelled!"

  "In the face of all his people?" asked Mr. Henry, curiously.

  "In the face of the whole world, sir," I said, setting my teeth with asnap.

  He held out his finely formed hand; I took it respectfully.

  When he had gone away I drew Mount and Renard aside and asked themwhere Miss Warren was staying. They did not know.

  "We'll make a tour of the town and find Shemuel; he knows," suggestedMount.

  I assented, smiling bitterly to find myself so soon seeking Shemuel'scompany; and we three, clad in our soiled buckskins, descended thestairway and sallied forth into the sunlit streets of Pittsburg, armin arm.

  Riflemen, rangers, forest-runners, and the flotsam and jetsam from thewilderness were no rare spectacles in Pittsburg, so at first weattracted little attention. We would have attracted none at all hadnot Mount swaggered so, arms akimbo, fur cap over his left eye. Hestopped at every tap-room, a sad habit of his in towns; and theoftener he stopped the more offensive became his swagger. The Weasel,too, strutted along, cap defiantly cocked, reaching up to tuck his armunder the elbow of his giant comrade, which at moments forced thelittle Weasel to march on tiptoe.

  It was strange and ludicrous, the affection between these waifs of thewilderness; what Mount did the Weasel imitated most scrupulously,drinking whatever his companion drank, swaggering when he swaggered,singing whatever catch Mount sang. And the oftener they drank the moremusical they became with their eternal:

  "Diddle diddle dumpling, My son John!--"

  until I remonstrated so vigorously that they quieted their voices ifnot their deportment.

  It was on Pitt Street that we found Shemuel, trudging towards theKing's Road. A number of people gathered about him and followed him.Some bought ribbons or tablets for the races. The peddler saw usimmediately, but made no sign as we approached until I asked the priceof gilt buckles, and purchased three.

  Then the little Jew fumbled in his pockets and whined and protestedhe could not make change, and I was uncertain what to say until hebrightened up and begged us to follow to the "Bear and Cubs," justopposite, where change might be had in the tap-room.

  The "Bear and Cubs" was a grizzly tavern, a squalid, unpainted house,swinging a grotesque sign which was meant to represent a she-bearsuckling her young. The windows were dim with filth; the place reekedwith the stale stench of malt and spirit dregs.

  Into this grewsome hostelry I followed, perforce, to the tap-room,where Mount and Renard bawled for ale while I made known my businessto Shemuel, who curiously enough appeared to suspect in advance what Iwanted.

  "If you hatt dold me this morning--ach!--bud I pelieved you carenoddings, Mister Cardigan. She wass waiting to see you, sir, at LadyShelton's in the Boundary--"

  "Did you tell her I was here?" I asked, angrily.

 
"Ach--yess! I wass so sure you would see her--"

  Exasperated, I shook my fist at the peddler.

  "You miserable, tattling fool!" I said, fiercely. "Will you mind yourown business hereafter? Who the devil are you, to pry into my affairsand spy upon your betters?"

  "It wass to hellup you, sir," he protested, spreading his fingers andwaving his hands excitedly. "I dold you she wass to marry LordDunmore; if you hatt asked me I could haff dold you somedings more--"

  "What?"

  "The bans will be published to-morrow from efery church in Pittsburg,Richmond, and Williamsburg!"

  I glared at him, catching my breath and swallowing.

  "Sir," he whined, "I ask your pardon, but I haff so often seen you inJohnstown, and Miss Warren, too, and--and--I would not haff harm cometo her, or you, sir; and I pelieved you--you lofed her--"

  I looked at him savagely.

  "Ach!--I will mix me no more mit kindness to nobody!" he muttered."Shemmy, you mint your peezeness and sell dem goots in dotpasket-box!"

  "Shemuel," I said, "what did she say when you told her I was in FortPitt?"

  "Miss Warren went white like you did, sir."

  "And you said you would tell me where she was to be found?"

  "Ach!--yess."

  "What did she say?"

  "Miss Warren wass crying, sir--"

  "What?" I asked, astonished.

  "Yess, sir; Miss Warren she only sat down under the drees, and she crymit herselluf."

  "And you came to get me? And my manner made you believe I did not careto see Miss Warren?"

  "Miss Warren she knew I hatt come to fetch you. I dold her so. When Ipassed py dot Boundary again, she wass waiting under the drees--"

  "How long since?"

  "It is an hour, sir."

  I fumbled in my belt and pulled out a gold piece.

  "Thank you, Shemmy," I muttered, dropping it into his greasy cap;"tell Mount and Renard where I have gone."

  "Ach--ach, Mister Cardigan," cried Shemuel, plucking me timidly by thesleeve, "von vort, if you please, sir. Remember, sir, I beg of you,that Miss Warren must not stay here. And if she will stay, and if shewill not listen to you, sir, I beg you to gome to me at vonce."

  "Why?" I asked, searching his agitated face.

  "Pecause I haff a knowledge that will hellup you," he muttered.

  "Very well," I said, calmly. "I will come to you, Shemmy, if I needyou. Where is Lady Shelton's house?"

  He led me to a back window and pointed out the Boundary, which was atree-shaded road skirting the inner fortifications. Then he opened therear door, pointed out the way through a filthy alley, across themarket square, and then north until I came to a large, white-pillaredhouse on a terrace, surrounded by an orchard.

  As I walked swiftly towards the Boundary my irritation increased withevery stride; it appeared to me that the world was most impudentlyconcerning itself with my private affairs. First, Mount had coollyarranged for my reception by Dunmore without a word on the subject tome; and now the peddler, Shemuel, had without my knowledge or consentmade a rendezvous for me with Silver Heels before I knew for certainthat she still remained in Pittsburg. The free direction of my ownaffairs appeared to be slipping away from me; apparently peoplebelieved me to be incapable of either thinking or acting for myself. Imeant to put an end to that.

  As for Silver Heels, no wonder the announcement to her of my presencehere had frightened her into tears. She knew well enough, the littlehussy, that Sir William would not endure her to wed such a man asDunmore: she knew it only too well, and, by the publishing of thebans, it was clear enough to me that she meant to wed Dunmore in spiteof Sir William and before he could interfere or forbid the bans.

  As I hastened on, biting my lip till it bled, I remembered her vow towed rank and wealth and to be "my lady," come what might. And now themad child believed she was in a fair way to fulfil her vow! I wouldteach her to try such tricks!

  I found no great difficulty in discovering the house. Stone steps setin the hill-side led up to an orchard, through which, bordered by agarden, walks of gravel stretched to the veranda of the white-pillaredhouse with its dormers and dignified portico.

  There was a lady in the orchard, with her back turned towards me,leaning on a stone-wall and apparently contemplating the town below.My moccasins made no noise until I stepped on the gravel; but, at thecraunch of the pebbles, the lady looked around and then came hastilytowards me across the grass.

  "Are you a runner from Johnstown?" she asked, sharply.

  I stood still. The lady was Silver Heels. She did not know me.

  She did not know me, nor I her, at first. It was only when she spoke.And this change had come to us both within four weeks' time!

  That she did not recognize me was less to be wondered at. The darkmask of the sun, which I now wore, had changed me to an Indian;anxiety, fatigue, and my awful peril in the Cayuga camp had madehaggard a youthful face, perhaps scored and hollowed it. In theseweeks I had grown tall; I knew it, for my clothes no longer fitted inleg or sleeve. And I was thin as a kestrel, too; my added belt holestold me that.

  But that I had not recognized her till she spoke distressed me. She,too, had grown tall; her face and body were shockingly frail; she hadpainted her cheeks and powdered her hair, and by her laces and frillsand her petticoat of dentelle, she might have been a French noblewomanfrom Quebec. It were idle to deny her beauty, but it was the beauty ofdeath itself.

  "Silver Heels," I said.

  Her hand flew to her bosom, then crept up on her throat, which I sawthrobbing and whitening at every breath. Good cause for fear had she,the graceless witch!

  After a moment she turned and walked into the orchard. 'Deed I scaredher, too, for her dragging feet told of the shock I had given her, andher silk kirtle trembled to her knees. She leaned on the wall, lookingout over the town as I had first seen her, and I followed her andrested against the wall beside her.

  "Silver Heels," I asked, "are you afraid to see me?"

  "No," she said, but the tears in her throat stopped her. Lord! how Ihad frightened her withal!

  "Do you know why I am here?" I demanded, impressively, folding my armsin solemn satisfaction at the situation.

  To my amazement she tossed her chin with a hateful laugh, and shruggedher shoulders without looking at me.

  "Do you realize why I am here?" I repeated, in displeasure.

  She half turned towards me with maddening indifference in voice andmovement.

  "Why you are here? Yes, I know why."

  "Why, then?" I snapped.

  "Because you believed that Marie Hamilton was here," she said, andlaughed that odd, unpleasant laugh again. "But you come too late,Micky," she added, spitefully; "your bonnie Marie Hamilton is a widow,now, and already back in Albany to mourn poor Captain Hamilton."

  My ears had been growing hot.

  "Do you believe--" I began.

  But she turned her back, saying, "Oh, Micky, don't lie."

  "Lie!" I cried, exasperated.

  "Fib, then. But you should have arrived in time, my poor friend. Lastweek came the news that Captain Hamilton had been shot on theKentucky. Boone and Harrod sent a runner with the names of the dead.If you had only been here!--oh dear; poor boy! Pray, follow Mrs.Hamilton to Albany. She talked of nobody but you; she treated Mr.Bevan to one of her best silk mittens--"

  "What nonsense is this?" I cried, alarmed. "Does Mrs. Hamilton believeI am in love with her?"

  "Believe it? What could anybody believe after you had so coollycompromised her--"

  "What?" I stammered.

  "You kissed her, didn't you?"

  "Who--I?"

  "Perhaps I was mistaken; perhaps it was somebody else."

  I fairly glared at my tormentor.

  "Let me see," said Silver Heels, counting on her fingers. "There werethree of us there--Marie Hamilton, I, and Black Betty. Now I'm sure itwas not me you kissed, and if it was not Marie Hamilton--why--it wasBetty!"

  "Silve
r Heels," said I, angrily, "do you suppose I am in love withMrs. Hamilton?"

  "Why did you court her?" demanded Silver Heels, looking at me withbright eyes.

  "Why? Oh, I--I fancied I was in love with you--and--and so I meant tomake you jealous, Silver Heels. Upon my honour, that was all! I neverdreamed she might think me serious."

  The set smile on Silver Heels's lips did not relax.

  "So you fancied you loved me?" she asked.

  "I--oh--yes. Silver Heels, I was such a fool--"

  "Indeed you were," she motioned with her lips.

  How thin she had grown. Even the colour had left her lips now.

  "There's one thing certain," I said. "I don't feel bound in honour towed Mrs. Hamilton. I like her; she's pretty and sweet. I might easilyfall in love with her, but I don't want to wed anybody. I could wedyou if I chose, now, for Sir William wishes it, and he promised memeans to maintain you."

  "I thank Sir William--and you!" said Silver Heels, paler than ever.

  "Oh, don't be frightened," I muttered. "I can't have you, and--and mycountry too. Silver Heels, I'm a rebel!"

  She did not answer.

  "Or, at least, I'm close to it," I went on. "I'm here to seek LordDunmore."

  As I pronounced his name I suddenly remembered what I had come for,and stopped short, scowling at Silver Heels.

  "Well, Micky?" she said, serenely. "What of Lord Dunmore?"

  I bent my head, looking down at the grass, and in a shamed voice Itold her what I had heard. She did not deny it. When I drew for her aportrait of the Earl of Dunmore in all his proper blazonry, she onlysmiled and set her lips tight to her teeth.

  "What of it?" she asked. "I am to marry him; you and Sir William willnot have him to endure."

  "It's a disgraceful thing," I said, hotly. "If you are in your sensesand cannot perceive the infamy of such a marriage, then I'll do yourthinking for you and stop this shameful betrothal now!"

  "You will not, I suppose, presume to interfere in my affairs?" shedemanded, icily.

  "Oh yes, I will," said I. "You shall not wed Dunmore. Do you hear me,Silver Heels?"

  "I shall wed Dunmore in July."

  "No, you won't!" I retorted, stung to fury. "Sir William has betrothedyou to me. And, by Heaven! if it comes to that, I will wed you myself,you little fool!"

  The old wild-cat light flickered in her eyes, and for a moment Ithought she meant to strike me.

  "You!" she stammered, clinching her slender hands. "Wed you! Not if Iloved you dearer than hope of heaven, Michael Cardigan!"

  "I do not ask you to love me," I retorted, sullenly. "I do not ask youto wed me, save as a last resort. But I tell you, I will not sufferthe infamy of such a match as you mean to make. Renounce Dunmore andreturn with me to Johnstown, and I promise you I will not press mysuit. But if you do not, by Heaven! I shall claim my prior rightunder our betrothal, and I shall take you with me to Johnstown. Willyou come?"

  "Lord Dunmore will give you your answer," she said, looking wicked andshaking in every limb.

  "And I will give him his!" I cried. "Pray you attend to-night'sceremony in the fortress, and you will learn such truths as you neverdreamed!"

  I wiped my hot forehead with my sleeve, glaring at her.

  "Doubtless," said I, sneeringly, "my attire may shock your would-beladyship and your fashionable friends. But what I shall have to saywill shock them more than my dirty clothes. True, I have not a bit oflinen to clean my brow withal, and I use my sleeve as you see. Butit's the sleeve of an honest man that dries the sweat of a guiltlessbody, and all the laces and fine linen of my Lord Dunmore cannot dothe like for him!"

  "I think," said she, coldly, "you had best go."

  "I think so too," I sneered. "I ask your indulgence if I have detainedyou from the races, for which I perceive you are attired."

  "It is true; I remained here for you, when I might have gone with theothers."

  Suddenly she broke down and laid her head in her arms.

  Much disturbed I watched her, not knowing what to say. Anger died out;I leaned on the wall beside her, speaking gently and striving to drawher fingers from her face. In vain I begged for her confidence again;in vain I recalled our old comradeship and our thousand foolishquarrels, which had never broken the strong bond between us until thatlast night at Johnstown.

  As I spoke all the old tenderness returned, the deep tenderness andaffection for her that lay underneath all my tyranny and jealousy andvanity and bad temper, and which had hitherto survived all quarrelsand violence and sullen resentment for real or imaginary offence.

  I asked pardon for all wherein I had hurt her, I prayed for hertrustful comradeship once more as few men pray for love from a coldmistress.

  Presently she answered a question; other questions and other answersfollowed; she raised her tear-marred eyes and dried them with a rag oftightly fisted lace.

  To soothe and gain her I told her bits of what I had been throughsince that last quarrel in Johnstown. I asked her if she rememberedthat sunset by the river, where she had spoken charms to the tiny redand black beetles, so that when they flew away the charm would one daysave me from the stake.

  But when I related the story of my great peril, she turned so sick andpallid that I ceased, and took her frail hands anxiously.

  "What is the matter, Silver Heels?" I said. "Never have I seen youlike this. Have you been ill long? What is it, little comrade?"

  "Oh, I don't know--I don't know, truly," she sobbed. "It has comewithin the few weeks, Michael. I am so old, so tired, so strangely illof I know not what."

  "You _do_ know," I said. "Tell me, Silver Heels."

  She raised her eyes to me, then closed them. Neck and brow werereddening.

  "You are not in love!" I demanded, aghast.

  "Ay, sick with it," she said, slowly, with closed lids.

  It was horrible, incredible! I attempted to picture Dunmore as aninspirer of love in any woman. The mere idea revolted me. Whatfrightful spell had this shrunken nobleman cast over my little comradethat she should confess her love for him?

  And all I could say was: "Oh, Silver Heels! Silver Heels! That man! Itis madness!"

  "What man?" she asked, opening her eyes.

  "What man?" I repeated. "Do you not mean that you love Dunmore?"

  She laughed a laugh that frightened me, so mirthless, so bitter, sowickedly bitter it rang in the summer air.

  "Oh yes--Dunmore, if you wish--or any man--any man. I care not; I amsick, sick, sick! They have flattered and followed and sought me andimportuned me--great and humble, young and old--and never a true manamong them all--only things of powder and silks and paintedsmiles--and all wicked save one."

  "And he?"

  "Oh, he is a true man--the only one among them all--a true man, for heis stupid and vain and tyrannical and violent, eaten to the bone withself-assurance--and a fool to boot, Michael--a fool to boot. And asthis man is, among them all, the only real man of bone and blood--why,I love him."

  "Who is this man?" I asked, cautiously.

  "Not Dunmore, Michael."

  "Not Dunmore? And yet you wed Dunmore?"

  "Because I love the other, Michael, who uses me like a pedigreedhound, scanning and planning his kennel-list to mate me with a bloodedmate to his taste. Because I hate him as I love him, and shall placemyself beyond his power to shame me. Because I am dying of thehumiliation, Michael, and would wish to die so high in rank that evendeath cannot level me to him. Now, tell me who I love."

  "God knows!" I said, in my amazement.

  "True," she said, "God knows I love a fool."

  "But who is this fellow?" I insisted. "What man dares attempt to mateyou to his friends? The insolence, the presumption--why, I thought Iwas the only man who might do that!"

  How she laughed at me as I stood perplexed and scowling and fingeringthe fringe on my leggings, and how her laughter cut, with itsundertone ringing with tears. What on earth had changed her to a womanlike this, talking a language that dea
lt in phrases which one heardand marked and found meant nothing, with a sting in their veryemptiness?

  "Very well," said I, "you shall not have Dunmore for spite of a foolunworthy of you; and as for that, you shall not have the fool either!"

  "I am not likely to get him," she said.

  "You could have him for the wish!" I cried, jealously. "I'd like tosee the man who would not crawl from here to Johnstown to kiss yoursilken shoe!"

  "Would _you_?"

  "It pleases you to mock me," I said; "but I'll tell you this: If Iloved you as a sweetheart I'd do it! I'll have the world know it ishonoured wherever you touch it with your foot!"

  "Do you mean it?" she asked, looking at me strangely.

  "Mean it! Have you ever doubted it?"

  The colour in her face surged to her hair.

  "You speak like a lover," she said, with a catch in her breath.

  "I speak like a man, proud of his kin!" said I, suspiciously, alert torepel ridicule. Lover! What did she mean by that? Had I not askedpardon for my foolishness in Johnson Hall? And must she still tauntme?

  If she read my suspicions I do not know, but I think she did, for thecolour died out in her face and she set her lips together as shealways did when meaning mischief.

  "I pray you, dear friend," she said, wearily, "concern yourself withyour kin as little as I do. Bid me good-bye, now. I am tired,Michael--tired to the soul of me."

  She held out her slim hand. I took it, then I bent to touch it with mylips.

  "You will not wed Dunmore?" I asked.

  She did not reply.

  "And you will come with me to Johnstown on the morrow, Silver Heels?"

  There was no answer.

  "Silver Heels?"

  "If you are strong enough to take me from Dunmore, take me," she said,in a dull, tired voice.

  "And--and from the other--the one you love--the fool?"

  "He will leave me--when you leave me," she answered.

  "You mean to say this pitiful ass will follow you and me toJohnstown!" I cried, excited.

  "Truly, he will!" she said, hysterically, and covered her face withher hands. But whether she was laughing or crying or doing bothtogether I could not determine; and I stalked wrathfully away,determined to teach this same fool that his folly was neither to mytaste nor fancy.

  And as I passed swiftly southward through the darkening town I heardthe monotonous call of the town watchman stumping his beat:

  "Lanthorn, and a whole candle-light! Hang out your lights here!Light--ho! Maids, hang out your light, and see your lamp be clear andbright!"