THE SPY - A Tale of the Neutral Ground (Historical Novel). Джеймс Фенимор КуперЧитать онлайн книгу.
table to their guests, who proceeded, without much superfluous diffidence, to do proper honors to the hospitality of Mr. Wharton.
At length Captain Lawton suspended for a moment his violent attacks on the buckwheat cakes, to inquire of the master of the house, if there was not a peddler of the name of Birch who lived in the valley at times.
“At times only, I believe, sir,” replied Mr. Wharton, cautiously. “He is seldom here; I may say I never see him.”
“That is strange, too,” said the trooper, looking at the disconcerted host intently, “considering he is your next neighbor; he must be quite domestic, sir; and to the ladies it must be somewhat inconvenient. I doubt not that that muslin in the window seat cost twice as much as he would have asked them for it.”
Mr. Wharton turned in consternation, and saw some of the recent purchases scattered about the room.
The two subalterns struggled to conceal their smiles; but the captain resumed his breakfast with an eagerness that created a doubt, whether he ever expected to enjoy another. The necessity of a supply from the dominion of Dinah soon, however, afforded another respite, of which Lawton availed himself.
“I had a wish to break this Mr. Birch of his unsocial habits, and gave him a call this morning,” he said. “Had I found him within, I should have placed him where he would enjoy life in the midst of society, for a short time at least.”
“And where might that be, sir?” asked Mr. Wharton, conceiving it necessary to say something.
“The guardroom,” said the trooper, dryly.
“What is the offense of poor Birch?” asked Miss Peyton, handing the dragoon a fourth dish of coffee.
“Poor!” cried the captain. “If he is poor, King George is a bad paymaster.”
“Yes, indeed,” said one of the subalterns, “his Majesty owes him a dukedom.”
“And congress a halter,” continued the commanding officer commencing anew on a fresh supply of the cakes.
“I am sorry,” said Mr. Wharton, “that any neighbor of mine should incur the displeasure of our rulers.”
“If I catch him,” cried the dragoon, while buttering another cake, “he will dangle from the limbs of one of his namesakes.”
“He would make no bad ornament, suspended from one of those locusts before his own door,” added the lieutenant.
“Never mind,” continued the captain; “I will have him yet before I’m a major.”
As the language of the officers appeared to be sincere, and such as disappointed men in their rough occupations are but too apt to use, the Whartons thought it prudent to discontinue the subject. It was no new intelligence to any of the family, that Harvey Birch was distrusted and greatly harassed by the American army. His escapes from their hands, no less than his imprisonments, had been the conversation of the country in too many instances, and under circumstances of too great mystery, to be easily forgotten. In fact, no small part of the bitterness expressed by Captain Lawton against the peddler, arose from the unaccountable disappearance of the latter, when intrusted to the custody of two of his most faithful dragoons.
A twelvemonth had not yet elapsed, since Birch had been seen lingering near the headquarters of the commander in chief, and at a time when important movements were expected hourly to occur. So soon as the information of this fact was communicated to the officer whose duty it was to guard the avenues of the American camp, he dispatched Captain Lawton in pursuit of the peddler.
Acquainted with all the passes of the hills, and indefatigable in the discharge of his duty, the trooper had, with much trouble and toil, succeeded in effecting his object. The party had halted at a farmhouse for the purposes of refreshment, and the prisoner was placed in a room by himself, but under the keeping of the two men before mentioned; all that was known subsequently is, that a woman was seen busily engaged in the employments of the household near the sentinels, and was particularly attentive to the wants of the captain, until he was deeply engaged in the employments of the supper table.
Afterwards, neither woman nor peddler was to be found. The pack, indeed, was discovered open, and nearly empty, and a small door, communicating with a room adjoining to the one in which the peddler had been secured, was ajar.
Captain Lawton never could forgive the deception; his antipathies to his enemies were not very moderate, but this was adding an insult to his penetration that rankled deeply. He sat in portentous silence, brooding over the exploit of his prisoner, yet mechanically pursuing the business before him, until, after sufficient time had passed to make a very comfortable meal, a trumpet suddenly broke on the ears of the party, sending its martial tones up the valley, in startling melody. The trooper rose instantly from the table, exclaiming,—
“Quick, gentlemen, to your horses; there comes Dunwoodie,” and, followed by his officers, he precipitately left the room.
With the exception of the sentinels left to guard Captain Wharton, the dragoons mounted, and marched out to meet their comrades.
None of the watchfulness necessary in a war, in which similarity of language, appearance, and customs rendered prudence doubly necessary, was omitted by the cautious leader. On getting sufficiently near, however, to a body of horse of more than double his own number, to distinguish countenances, Lawton plunged his rowels into his charger, and in a moment he was by the side of his commander.
The ground in front of the cottage was again occupied by the horse; and observing the same precautions as before, the newly arrived troops hastened to participate in the cheer prepared for their comrades.
Chapter VI
And let conquerors boast
Their fields of fame—he who in virtue arms
A young warm spirit against beauty’s charms,
Who feels her brightness, yet defies her thrall,
Is the best, bravest conqueror of them all.
—Moore
The ladies of the Wharton family had collected about a window, deeply interested in the scene we have related.
Sarah viewed the approach of her countrymen with a smile of contemptuous indifference; for she even undervalued the personal appearance of men whom she thought arrayed in the unholy cause of rebellion. Miss Peyton looked on the gallant show with an exulting pride, which arose in the reflection that the warriors before her were the chosen troops of her native colony; while Frances gazed with a singleness of interest that absorbed all other considerations.
The two parties had not yet joined, before her quick eye distinguished one horseman in particular from those around him. To her it appeared that even the steed of this youthful soldier seemed to be conscious that he sustained the weight of no common man: his hoofs but lightly touched the earth, and his airy tread was the curbed motion of a blooded charger.
The dragoon sat in the saddle, with a firmness and ease that showed him master of himself and horse,—his figure uniting the just proportions of strength and activity, being tall, round, and muscular. To this officer Lawton made his report, and, side by side, they rode into the field opposite to the cottage.
The heart of Frances beat with a pulsation nearly stifling, as he paused for a moment, and took a survey of the building, with an eye whose dark and sparkling glance could be seen, notwithstanding the distance. Her color changed, and for an instant, as she saw the youth throw himself from the saddle, she was compelled to seek relief for her trembling limbs in a chair.
The officer gave a few hasty orders to his second in command, walked rapidly into the lawn, and approached the cottage. Frances rose from her seat, and vanished from the apartment. The dragoon ascended the steps of the piazza, and had barely time to touch the outer door, when it opened to