CHAPTER XXV
No vernal blooms their torpid rocks array, But winter, lingering, chills the lap of May; No zephyr fondly sues the mountain's breast, But meteors glare, and stormy glooms invest. --GOLDSMITH.
The roads of Westchester are, at this hour, below the improvements ofthe country. Their condition at the time of the tale has already beenalluded to in these pages; and the reader will, therefore, easilyimagine the task assumed by Caesar, when he undertook to guide thetranslated chariot of the English prelate through their windings, intoone of the less frequented passes of the Highlands of the Hudson.
While Caesar and his steeds were contending with these difficulties, theinmates of the carriage were too much engrossed with their own cares toattend to those who served them. The mind of Sarah had ceased to wanderso wildly as at first; but at every advance that she made towardsreason, she seemed to retire a step from animation; from being excitedand flighty, she was gradually becoming moody and melancholy. There weremoments, indeed, when her anxious companions thought that they coulddiscern marks of recollection; but the expression of exquisite woe thataccompanied these transient gleams of reason, forced them to thedreadful alternative of wishing that she might forever be spared theagony of thought. The day's march was performed chiefly in silence, andthe party found shelter for the night in different farmhouses.
The following morning the cavalcade dispersed. The wounded divergedtowards the river, with the intention of taking water at Peekskill, inorder to be transported to the hospitals of the American army above. Thelitter of Singleton was conveyed to a part of the Highlands where hisfather held his quarters, and where it was intended that the youthshould complete his cure; the carriage of Mr. Wharton, accompanied by awagon conveying the housekeeper and what baggage had been saved, andcould be transported, resumed its route towards the place where HenryWharton was held in duress, and where he only waited their arrival to beput on trial for his life.
The country which lies between the waters of the Hudson and Long IslandSound, is, for the first forty miles from their junction, a successionof hills and dales. The land bordering on the latter then becomes lessabrupt, and gradually assumes a milder appearance, until it finallymelts into the lovely plains and meadows of the Connecticut. But as youapproach the Hudson, the rugged aspect increases, until you at lengthmeet with the formidable barrier of the Highlands. Here the neutralground ceased. The royal army held the two points of land that commandedthe southern entrance of the river into the mountains; but all theremaining passes were guarded by the Americans.
We have already stated that the pickets of the continental army weresometimes pushed low into the country, and that the hamlet of the WhitePlains was occasionally maintained by parties of its troops. At othertimes, the advanced guards were withdrawn to the northern extremity ofthe country, and, as has been shown, the intermediate country wasabandoned to the ravages of the miscreants who plundered between botharmies, serving neither.
The road taken by our party was not the one that communicates betweenthe two principal cities of the states, but was a retired andunfrequented pass, that to this hour is but little known, and which,entering the hills near the eastern boundary, emerges into the plainabove, many miles from the Hudson.
It would have been impossible for the tired steeds of Mr. Wharton todrag the heavy chariot up the lengthened and steep ascents which now laybefore them; and a pair of country horses were procured, with but littleregard to their owner's wishes, by the two dragoons who still continuedto accompany the party. With their assistance, Caesar was enabled toadvance, by slow and toilsome steps, into the bosom of the hills.Willing to relieve her own melancholy by breathing a fresher air, andalso to lessen the weight, Frances alighted as they reached the foot ofthe mountain. She found that Katy had made similar preparations, withthe like intention of walking to the summit. It was near the setting ofthe sun, and, from the top of the mountain, their guard had declaredthat the end of their journey might be discerned. Frances moved forwardwith the elastic step of youth; and, followed by the housekeeper at alittle distance, she soon lost sight of the sluggish carriage, that wasslowly toiling up the hill, occasionally halting to allow the cattleto breathe.
"Oh, Miss Fanny, what dreadful times these be!" said Katy, when theypaused for breath themselves. "I know'd that calamity was about tobefall, ever sin' the streak of blood was seen in the clouds."
"There has been blood upon earth, Katy, though but little is ever seenin the clouds."
"Not blood in the clouds!" echoed the housekeeper. "Yes, that there has,often, and comets with fiery, smoking tails. Didn't people see armed menin the heavens, the year the war began? And, the night before the battleof the Plains, wasn't there thunder, like the cannon themselves? Ah!Miss Fanny, I'm fearful that no good can follow rebellion against theLord's anointed!"
"These events are certainly dreadful," returned Frances, "and enough tosicken the stoutest heart. But what can be done, Katy? Gallant andindependent men are unwilling to submit to oppression; and I am fearfulthat such scenes are but too common in war."
"If I could but see anything to fight about," said Katy, renewing herwalk as the young lady proceeded, "I shouldn't mind it so much. 'Twassaid the king wanted all the tea for his own family, at one time; andthen again, that he meant the colonies should pay over to him all theirearnings. Now this is matter enough to fight about--for I'm sure that noone, however he may be lord or king, has a right to the hard earnings ofanother. Then it was all contradicted, and some said Washington wantedto be king himself; so that, between the two, one doesn't know whichto believe."
"Believe neither--for neither is true. I do not pretend to understand,myself, all the merits of this war, Katy; but to me it seems unnatural,that a country like this should be ruled by another so distantas England."
"So I have heard Harvey say to his father, that is dead and in hisgrave," returned Katy, approaching nearer to the young lady, andlowering her voice. "Many is the good time that I've listened to themtalking, when all the neighborhood was asleep; and such conversations,Miss Fanny, that you can have no idea on! Well, to say the truth, Harveywas a mystified body, and he was like the winds in the good book; noone could tell whence he came, or whither he went."
Frances glanced her eye at her companion with an apparent desire to hearmore.
"There are rumors abroad relative to the character of Harvey," she said,"that I should be sorry were true."
"'Tis a disparagement, every word on't," cried Katy, vehemently. "Harveyhad no more dealings with Beelzebub than you or I had. I'm sure ifHarvey had sold himself, he would take care to be better paid; though,to speak the truth, he was always a wasteful and disregardful man."
"Nay, nay," returned the smiling Frances, "I have no such injurioussuspicion of him; but has he not sold himself to an earthly prince--onetoo much attached to the interests of his native island to be alwaysjust to this country?"
"To the king's majesty!" replied Katy. "Why, Miss Fanny, your ownbrother that's in jail serves King George."
"True," said Frances, "but not in secret--openly, manfully, andbravely."
"'Tis said he is a spy, and why ain't one spy as bad as another?"
"'Tis untrue; no act of deception is worthy of my brother; nor of anywould he be guilty, for so base a purpose as gain or promotion."
"Well, I'm sure," said Katy, a little appalled at the manner of theyoung lady, "if a body does the work, he should be paid for it. Harveyis by no means partic'lar about getting his lawful dues; and I dar'st tosay, if the truth was forthcoming, King George owes him money thisvery minute."
"Then you acknowledge his connection with the British army," saidFrances. "I confess there have been moments when I have thoughtdifferently."
"Lord, Miss Fanny, Harvey is a man that no calculation can be made on.Though I lived in his house for a long concourse of years, I have neverknown whether he belonged above or below [Footnote: The American partywas
called the party belonging 'above,' and the British that of 'below.'The terms had reference to the course of the Hudson.]. The time thatBurg'yne was taken he came home, and there was great doings between himand the old gentleman, but for my life I couldn't tell if 'twas joy orgrief. Then, here, the other day, when the great British general--I'msure I have been so flurried with losses and troubles, that I forgethis name--"
"Andre," said Frances.
"Yes, Ondree; when he was hanged, acrost the Tappan, the old gentlemanwas near hand to going crazy about it, and didn't sleep for night norday, till Harvey got back; and then his money was mostly golden guineas;but the Skinners took it all, and now he is a beggar, or, what's thesame thing, despisable for poverty and want."
To this speech Frances made no reply, but continued her walk up thehill, deeply engaged in her own reflections. The allusion to Andre hadrecalled her thoughts to the situation of her own brother.
They soon reached the highest point in their toilsome progress to thesummit, and Frances seated herself on a rock to rest and to admire.Immediately at her feet lay a deep dell, but little altered bycultivation, and dark with the gloom of a November sunset. Another hillrose opposite to the place where she sat, at no great distance, alongwhose rugged sides nothing was to be seen but shapeless rocks, and oakswhose stunted growth showed a meager soil.
To be seen in their perfection, the Highlands must be passed immediatelyafter the fall of the leaf. The scene is then the finest, for neitherthe scanty foliage which the summer lends the trees, nor the snows ofwinter, are present to conceal the minutest objects from the eye.Chilling solitude is the characteristic of the scenery; nor is the mindat liberty, as in March, to look forward to a renewed vegetation that issoon to check, without improving, the view.
The day had been cloudy and cool, and thin fleecy clouds hung around thehorizon, often promising to disperse, but as frequently disappointingFrances in the hope of catching a parting beam from the setting sun. Atlength a solitary gleam struck on the base of the mountain on which shewas gazing, and moved gracefully up its side, until reaching the summit,it stood for a minute, forming a crown of glory to the somber pile. Sostrong were the rays, that what was before indistinct now clearly openedto the view. With a feeling of awe at being thus unexpectedly admitted,as it were, into the secrets of that desert place, Frances gazedintently, until, among the scattered trees and fantastic rocks,something like a rude structure was seen. It was low, and so obscured bythe color of its materials, that but for its roof, and the glittering ofa window, it must have escaped her notice. While yet lost in theastonishment created by discovering a habitation in such a spot, onmoving her eyes she perceived another object that increased her wonder.It apparently was a human figure, but of singular mold and unusualdeformity. It stood on the edge of a rock, a little above the hut, andit was no difficult task for our heroine to fancy it was gazing at thevehicles that were ascending the side of the mountain beneath her. Thedistance, however, was too great to distinguish with precision. Afterlooking at it a moment in breathless wonder, Frances had just come tothe conclusion that it was ideal, and that what she saw was a part ofthe rock itself, when the object moved swiftly from its position, andglided into the hut, at once removing every doubt as to the nature ofeither. Whether it was owing to the recent conversation that she hadbeen holding with Katy, or to some fancied resemblance that shediscerned, Frances thought, as the figure vanished from her view, thatit bore a marked likeness to Birch, moving under the weight of his pack.She continued to gaze towards the mysterious residence, when the gleamof light passed away, and at the same instant the tones of a bugle rangthrough the glens and hollows, and were reechoed in every direction.Springing on her feet, the alarmed girl heard the trampling of horses,and directly a party in the well-known uniform of the Virginians camesweeping round the point of a rock near her, and drew up at a shortdistance. Again the bugle sounded a lively strain, and before theagitated Frances had time to rally her thoughts, Dunwoodie dashed by theparty of dragoons, threw himself from his charger, and advanced toher side.
His manner was earnest and interested, but in a slight degreeconstrained. In a few words he explained that he had been ordered up,with a party of Lawton's men, in the absence of the captain himself, toattend the trial of Henry, which was fixed for the morrow; and that,anxious for their safety in the rude passes of the mountain, he hadridden a mile or two in quest of the travelers. Frances explained, withtrembling voice, the reason of her being in advance, and taught himmomentarily to expect the arrival of her father. The constraint of hismanner had, however, unwillingly on her part, communicated itself to herown deportment, and the approach of the chariot was a relief to both.The major handed her in, spoke a few words of encouragement to Mr.Wharton and Miss Peyton, and, again mounting, led the way towards theplains of Fishkill, which broke on their sight, on turning the rock, withthe effect of enchantment. A short half hour brought them to the door ofthe farmhouse which the care of Dunwoodie had already prepared for theirreception, and where Captain Wharton was anxiously expectingtheir arrival.