CHAPTER II
And many a halcyon day he lived to see Unbroken, but by one misfortune dire, When fate had reft his mutual heart--but she Was gone-and Gertrude climbed a widowed father's knee. --Gertrude of Wyoming.
The father of Mr. Wharton was a native of England, and of a family whoseparliamentary interest had enabled them to provide for a younger son inthe colony of New York. The young man, like hundreds of others in thissituation, had settled permanently in the country. He married; and thesole issue of his connection had been sent early in life to receive thebenefits of the English schools. After taking his degrees at one of theuniversities of the mother country, the youth had been suffered toacquire a knowledge of life with the advantages of European society. Butthe death of his father recalled him, after passing two years in thismanner, to the possession of an honorable name, and a very ample estate.
It was much the fashion of that day to place the youth of certainfamilies in the army and navy of England, as the regular stepping-stonesto preferment. Most of the higher offices in the colonies were filled bymen who had made arms their profession; and it was even no uncommonsight to see a veteran warrior laying aside the sword to assume theermine on the benches of the highest judicial authority.
In conformity with this system, the senior Mr. Wharton had intended hisson for a soldier; but a natural imbecility of character in his childinterfered with his wishes.
A twelvemonth had been spent by the young man in weighing thecomparative advantages of the different classes of troops, when thedeath of his father occurred. The ease of his situation, and theattentions lavished upon a youth in the actual enjoyment of one of thelargest estates in the colonies, interfered greatly with his ambitiousprojects. Love decided the matter; and Mr. Wharton, in becoming ahusband, ceased to think of becoming a soldier. For many years hecontinued happy in his family, and sufficiently respected by hiscountrymen, as a man of integrity and consequence, when all hisenjoyments vanished, as it were, at a blow. His only son, the youthintroduced in the preceding chapter, had entered the army, and hadarrived in his native country, but a short time before the commencementof hostilities, with the reinforcements the ministry had thought itprudent to throw into the disaffected parts of North America. Hisdaughters were just growing into life, and their education required allthe advantages the city could afford. His wife had been for some yearsin declining health, and had barely time to fold her son to her bosom,and rejoice in the reunion of her family, before the Revolution burstforth, in a continued blaze, from Georgia to Massachusetts. The shockwas too much for the feeble condition of the mother, who saw her childcalled to the field to combat against the members of her own family inthe South, and she sank under the blow.
There was no part of the continent where the manners of England and itsaristocratical notions of blood and alliances, prevailed with more forcethan in a certain circle immediately around the metropolis of New York.The customs of the early Dutch inhabitants had, indeed, blended in somemeasures, with the English manners; but still the latter prevailed. Thisattachment to Great Britain was increased by the frequentintermarriages of the officers of the mother country with the wealthierand most powerful families of the vicinity, until, at the commencementof hostilities, their united influence had very nearly thrown the colonyinto the scale on the side of the crown. A few, however, of the leadingfamilies espoused the cause of the people; and a sufficient stand wasmade against the efforts of the ministerial party, to organize, and,aided by the army of the confederation, to maintain an independentrepublican form of government.
The city of New York and the adjacent territory were alone exempted fromthe rule of the new commonwealth; while the royal authority extended nofurther than its dignity could be supported by the presence of an army.In this condition of things, the loyalists of influence adopted suchmeasures as best accorded with their different characters andsituations. Many bore arms in support of the crown, and, by theirbravery and exertions, endeavored to secure what they deemed to be therights of their prince, and their own estates from the effects of thelaw of attainder. Others left the country; seeking in that place theyemphatically called home, an asylum, as they fondly hoped, for a seasononly, against the confusion and dangers of war. A third, and a more waryportion, remained in the place of their nativity, with a prudent regardto their ample possessions, and, perhaps, influenced by theirattachments to the scenes of their youth. Mr. Wharton was of thisdescription. After making a provision against future contingencies, bysecretly transmitting the whole of his money to the British funds, thisgentleman determined to continue in the theater of strife, and tomaintain so strict a neutrality as to insure the safety of his largeestate, whichever party succeeded. He was apparently engrossed in theeducation of his daughters, when a relation, high in office in the newstate, intimated that a residence in what was now a British campdiffered but little, in the eyes of his countrymen, from a residence inthe British capital. Mr. Wharton soon saw this was an unpardonableoffense in the existing state of things, and he instantly determined toremove the difficulty, by retiring to the country. He possessed aresidence in the county of Westchester; and having been for many yearsin the habit of withdrawing thither during the heats of the summermonths, it was kept furnished and ready for his accommodation. Hiseldest daughter was already admitted into the society of women; butFrances, the younger, required a year or two more of the usualcultivation, to appear with proper _eclat_; at least so thought MissJeanette Peyton; and as this lady, a younger sister of their deceasedmother, had left her paternal home, in the colony of Virginia, with thedevotedness and affection peculiar to her sex, to superintend thewelfare of her orphan nieces, Mr. Wharton felt that her opinions wereentitled to respect. In conformity to her advice, therefore, thefeelings of the parent were made to yield to the welfare ofhis children.
Mr. Wharton withdrew to the Locusts, with a heart rent with the pain ofseparating from all that was left him of a wife he had adored, but inobedience to a constitutional prudence that pleaded loudly in behalf ofhis worldly goods. His handsome town residence was inhabited, in themeanwhile, by his daughters and their aunt. The regiment to whichCaptain Wharton belonged formed part of the permanent garrison of thecity; and the knowledge of the presence of his son was no little reliefto the father, in his unceasing meditations on his absent daughters. ButCaptain Wharton was a young man and a soldier; his estimate of characterwas not always the wisest; and his propensities led him to imagine thata red coat never concealed a dishonorable heart.
The house of Mr. Wharton became a fashionable lounge to the officers ofthe royal army, as did that of every other family that was thoughtworthy of their notice. The consequences of this association were, tosome few of the visited, fortunate; to more, injurious, by excitingexpectations which were never to be realized, and, unhappily, to nosmall number ruinous. The known wealth of the father and, possibly, thepresence of a high-spirited brother, forbade any apprehension of thelatter danger to the young ladies: but it was impossible that all theadmiration bestowed on the fine figure and lovely face of Sarah Whartonshould be thrown away. Her person was formed with the early maturity ofthe climate, and a strict cultivation of the graces had made herdecidedly the belle of the city. No one promised to dispute with herthis female sovereignty, unless it might be her younger sister. Frances,however, wanted some months to the charmed age of sixteen; and the ideaof competition was far from the minds of either of the affectionategirls. Indeed, next to the conversation of Colonel Wellmere, thegreatest pleasure of Sarah was in contemplating the budding beauties ofthe little Hebe, who played around her with all the innocency of youth,with all the enthusiasm of her ardent temper, and with no little of thearchness of her native humor. Whether or not it was owing to the factthat Frances received none of the compliments which fell to the lot ofher elder sister, in the often repeated discussions on the merits of thewar, between the military beaux who frequented the house, it is certaintheir effects on the sisters we
re exactly opposite. It was much thefashion then for the British officers to speak slightingly of theirenemies; and Sarah took all the idle vaporing of her danglers to betruths. The first political opinions which reached the ears of Franceswere coupled with sneers on the conduct of her countrymen. At first shebelieved them; but there was occasionally a general, who was obliged todo justice to his enemy in order to obtain justice for himself; andFrances became somewhat skeptical on the subject of the inefficiency ofher countrymen. Colonel Wellmere was among those who delighted most inexpending his wit on the unfortunate Americans; and, in time, Francesbegan to listen to his eloquence with great suspicion, and sometimeswith resentment.
It was on a hot, sultry day that the three were in the parlor of Mr.Wharton's house, the colonel and Sarah seated on a sofa, engaged in acombat of the eyes, aided by the usual flow of small talk, and Franceswas occupied at her tambouring frame in an opposite corner of the room,when the gentleman suddenly exclaimed,--
"How gay the arrival of the army under General Burgoyne will make thecity, Miss Wharton!"
"Oh! how pleasant it must be," said the thoughtless Sarah, in reply; "Iam told there are many charming women with that army; as you say, itwill make us all life and gayety."
Frances shook back the abundance of her golden hair, and raised hereyes, dancing with the ardor of national feeling; then laughing, with aconcealed humor, she asked,--
"Is it so certain that General Burgoyne will be permitted to reach thecity?"
"Permitted!" echoed the colonel. "Who is there to prevent it, my prettyMiss Fanny?"
Frances was precisely at that age when young people are most jealous oftheir station in society; neither quite a woman, nor yet a child. The"pretty Miss Fanny" was too familiar to be relished, and she dropped hereyes on her work again with cheeks that glowed like crimson.
"General Stark took the Germans into custody," she answered, compressingher lip; "may not General Gates think the British too dangerous to goat large?"
"Oh! they were Germans, as you say," cried the colonel, excessivelyvexed at the necessity of explaining at all; "mere mercenary troops; butwhen the really British regiments come in question, you will see a verydifferent result."
"Of that there is no doubt," cried Sarah, without in the least partakingof the resentment of the colonel to her sister, but hailing already inher heart the triumph of the British.
"Pray, Colonel Wellmere," said Frances, recovering her good humor, andraising her joyous eyes once more to the face of the gentleman, "wasthe Lord Percy of Lexington a kinsman of him who fought at Chevy Chase?"
"Why, Miss Fanny, you are becoming a rebel," said the colonel,endeavoring to laugh away the anger he felt; "what you are pleased toinsinuate was a chase at Lexington, was nothing more than a judiciousretreat--a--kind of--"
"Running fight," interrupted the good-humored girl, laying a greatemphasis on the first word.
"Positively, young lady"--Colonel Wellmere was interrupted by a laughfrom a person who had hitherto been unnoticed.
There was a small family apartment adjoining the room occupied by thetrio, and the air had blown open the door communicating between the two.A fine young man was now seen sitting near the entrance, who, by hissmiling countenance, was evidently a pleased listener to theconversation. He rose instantly, and coming through the door, with hishat in his hand, appeared a tall, graceful youth, of dark complexion,and sparkling eyes of black, from which the mirth had not entirelyvanished, as he made his bow to the ladies.
"Mr. Dunwoodie!" cried Sarah, in surprise; "I was ignorant of your beingin the house; you will find a cooler seat in this room."
"I thank you," replied the young man, "but I must go and seek yourbrother, who placed me there in ambuscade, as he called it, with apromise of returning an hour ago." Without making any furtherexplanation, the youth bowed politely to the young women, distantly andwith hauteur to the gentleman, and withdrew. Frances followed him intothe hall, and blushing richly, inquired, in a hurried voice,--
"But why--why do you leave us, Mr. Dunwoodie? Henry must soon return."
The gentleman caught one of her hands in his own, and the sternexpression of his countenance gave place to a look of admiration as hereplied,--
"You managed him famously, my dear little kinswoman; never--no, never,forget the land of your birth; remember, if you are the granddaughter ofan Englishman, you are, also, the granddaughter of a Peyton."
"Oh!" returned the laughing girl, "it would be difficult to forget that,with the constant lectures on genealogy before us, with which we arefavored by Aunt Jeanette; but why do you go?"
"I am on the wing for Virginia, and have much to do." He pressed herhand as he spoke, and looking back, while in the act of closing thedoor, exclaimed, "Be true to your country--be American." The ardent girlkissed her hand to him as he retired, and then instantly applying itwith its beautiful fellow to her burning cheeks, ran into her ownapartment to hide her confusion.
Between the open sarcasm of Frances, and the ill-concealed disdain ofthe young man, Colonel Wellmere had felt himself placed in an awkwardpredicament; but ashamed to resent such trifles in the presence of hismistress, he satisfied himself with observing, superciliously, asDunwoodie left the room,--
"Quite a liberty for a youth in his situation; a shop boy with a bundle,I fancy."
The idea of picturing the graceful Peyton Dunwoodie as a shop boy couldnever enter the mind of Sarah, and she looked around her in surprise,when the colonel continued,--
"This Mr. Dun--Dun--"
"Dunwoodie! Oh, no--he is a relation of my aunt," cried the young lady,"and an intimate friend of my brother; they were at school together, andonly separated in England, when one went into the army, and the other toa French military academy."
"His money appears to have been thrown away," observed the colonel,betraying the spleen he was unsuccessfully striving to conceal.
"We ought to hope so," added Sarah, with a smile, "for it is said heintends joining the rebel army. He was brought in here in a French ship,and has just been exchanged; you may soon meet him in arms."
"Well, let him--I wish Washington plenty of such heroes;" and he turnedto a more pleasant subject, by changing the discourse to themselves.
A few weeks after this scene occurred, the army of Burgoyne laid downtheir arms. Mr. Wharton, beginning to think the result of the contestdoubtful, resolved to conciliate his countrymen, and gratify himself, bycalling his daughters into his own abode. Miss Peyton consented to betheir companion; and from that time, until the period at which wecommenced our narrative, they had formed one family.
Whenever the main army made any movements, Captain Wharton had, ofcourse, accompanied it; and once or twice, under the protection ofstrong parties, acting in the neighborhood of the Locusts, he hadenjoyed rapid and stolen interviews with his friends. A twelvemonth had,however, passed without his seeing them, and the impatient Henry hadadopted the disguise we have mentioned, and unfortunately arrived on thevery evening that an unknown and rather suspicious guest was an inmateof the house, which seldom contained any other than its regularinhabitants.
"But do you think he suspects me?" asked the captain, with anxiety,after pausing to listen to Caesar's opinion of the Skinners.
"How should he?" cried Sarah, "when your sisters and father could notpenetrate your disguise."
"There is something mysterious in his manner; his looks are too pryingfor an indifferent observer," continued young Wharton thoughtfully, "andhis face seems familiar to me. The recent fate of Andre has created muchirritation on both sides. Sir Henry threatens retaliation for his death;and Washington is as firm as if half the world were at his command. Therebels would think me a fit subject for their plans just now, should Ibe so unlucky as to fall into their hands."
"But my son," cried his father, in great alarm, "you are not a spy; youare not within the rebel--that is, the American lines; there is nothinghere to spy."
"That might be disputed," rejoined the young man,
musing. "Their picketswere as low as the White Plains when I passed through in disguise. It istrue my purposes are innocent; but how is it to appear? My visit to youwould seem a cloak to other designs. Remember, sir, the treatment youreceived not a year since, for sending me a supply of fruit forthe winter."
"That proceeded from the misrepresentations of my kind neighbors," saidMr. Wharton, "who hoped, by getting my estate confiscated, to purchasegood farms at low prices. Peyton Dunwoodie, however, soon obtained ourdischarge; we were detained but a month."
"We!" repeated the son, in amazement; "did they take my sisters, also?Fanny, you wrote me nothing of this."
"I believe," said Frances, coloring highly, "I mentioned the kindtreatment we received from your old friend, Major Dunwoodie; and that heprocured my father's release."
"True; but were you with him in the rebel camp?"
"Yes," said the father, kindly; "Fanny would not suffer me to go alone.Jeanette and Sarah took charge of the Locusts, and this little girl wasmy companion, in captivity."
"And Fanny returned from such a scene a greater rebel than ever," criedSarah, indignantly; "one would think the hardships her father sufferedwould have cured her of such whims."
"What say you to the charge, my pretty sister?" cried the captain gayly;"did Peyton strive to make you hate your king, more than hedoes himself?"
"Peyton Dunwoodie hates no one," said Frances, quickly; then, blushingat her own ardor, she added immediately, "he loves you, Henry, I know;for he has told me so again and again."
Young Wharton tapped his sister on the cheek, with a smile, as he askedher, in an affected whisper, "Did he tell you also that he loved mylittle sister Fanny?"
"Nonsense!" said Frances; and the remnants of the supper-table soondisappeared under her superintendence.