THE SOLDIER'S CARD
"O Fairy! Fairy! is not this grand?"
Maid Sally stood in a little room, so neat, so prettily furnished, that
it was to her like waking up and finding one of her pleasant dreams come
true.
A cot with a real feather bed was in one corner, a small chest of
drawers with a mirror on it, a mirror in a square frame screwed into a
little stand, so she could bring it forward or push it back, was at one
side of the room; a small wooden rocking-chair stood by the window, and
a pretty painted wash-stand, with bowl and pitcher, a soap-dish, and a
saucer for brushes, was opposite the bed.
Sally looked with pleasure on the simple yet convenient things that she
never had had the use of before. Then she said:
"I feel as though these things fitted me. Yes, and even finer ones
might, too. Why is it I have such feelings always rising within me
whenever I look upon what is fine and would seem far above me?"
"I cannot tell you," said her Fairy.
"Did you notice," asked Sally, "what slipped from Mistress Cory Ann's
tongue? how she asked was I sure of being an American?"
"I noticed, surely," said the Fairy, "but many a vain and useless thing
will slip from the tongue of an angry woman. I think she meant but to
taunt you."
"Yet I wonder what she may know."
"It would be wiser to stop wondering," returned her Fairy.
And now it was not only a new home, but a new life that had come to the
pretty maid.
Goodwife Kendall did not favor having too much time spent in arranging
the hair, dressing up, and such like vanities. Yet much it did please
her to see the beautiful fluff and rich curl of Sally's red-gold hair
after she had used on it a good brush and comb.
And a "changeable" silk of pink and gray, making an "ashes of roses"
color, that had hung useless in the closet for a year, made so becoming
a gown for the blooming maid that Goodwife Kendall feared lest the
bright young head might be turned at sight of the fair vision flashed
back from the little mirror into the clear, dark eyes.
And Parson Kendall had some ado in striving to keep back from her ears
sundry and divers compliments and sweet sayings that began to be tossed
about, bearing on the growth and beauty of the Maid Sally Dukeen.
As winter rolled away and spring came on, the threats and mutterings
against the governor and king grew louder and ever louder, and spoken
with less fear. Work was going on in the fields and on the plantations,
but men met at the corner of the roads and at the stores, talking long
and earnestly, and with stern faces and dark brows.
Sally had seen the Fairy Prince ride by a number of times, sometimes
with his cousin Rosamond Earlscourt at his side. With other new
feelings, Sally had begun to feel backward at thought of going again to
the seat behind the hedge. She could read anything now, and in more than
one language. No excuse any longer for wanting to hear another read, and
something told her that slyly listening was not becoming in any person
of right ideas.
One day at dinner,--always the noon meal in those days,--Parson Kendall
said:
"It is now reported that Sir Percival Grandison, after much thought,
feels it his duty to side with the king, and not to aid the colonists.
But he hath great todo in striving to keep down the fiery spirit of his
young son. The lad thinketh himself old enough to have a mind of his
own, as indeed he is, and he greatly desireth to have his name enrolled
as a soldier, if fighting must be done. It is sad to have father and son
divided at such serious times, and Sir Percival wishes not to deal
harshly with his son. Yet the young man is with the colonists heart and
soul."
"And how old is he?" asked one of the sisters.
"He is nineteen, not yet of age."
"But if there should be fighting, think you not there would be many a
stripling," asked Goodwife Kendall, "of even seventeen or eighteen, who
would enter the ranks on our side?"
"I have no doubt of it," answered the parson, "and it may be that very
glad we shall be of the assistance of the younglings."
No one noticed how rosy grew the face of Maid Sally, or how short became
her breath as the talk went on. But long ere this had she made up her
mind that, should war break out, her Dream Prince would want to be in
the thick of the fight, and on the right side.
The lad who stood at the edge of the lawn one night, and said, in firm,
decided tones, that he meant to act as should a man, would never sit
tamely down and let others struggle for the liberty he was to enjoy.
One soft evening well past mid April, Sally walked over in the direction
of Ingleside. She had wearied at heart for the sound of the voice of her
Fairy Prince, yet she told herself there was but little chance of
hearing him, even should she go but just once more to the rocky seat.
For had she not seen him go by but a few moments before in the Ingleside
coach?
No; Sally thought it was he who sat beside his sister Lucretia, but she
was mistaken.
"I will see if the seat still be there," she said to herself, as,
entering the hedge, she saw in a moment that the great stones were just
as they had been months before.
Ah! but she had been there only a few moments when she blushed and
tightly clasped her hands together at sound of a well-known voice, as
quick footsteps came toward the arbor.
"Now here," said the voice of the Prince, "we can talk without danger of
being overheard.
"You know, Reginald, I would not willingly do anything to disturb or to
anger my sire, but I feel it my solemn duty to do all that one young
man can to put down tyranny and unjust rule, which is oppression.
"How can my father allow himself to be so mistaken? Or how can he fail
to see that Governor Dunmore has insulted us, and treated us like
children in taking away our gunpowder, leaving us as he did with no way
of defending ourselves in case of an attack?
"I reckon he found out his mistake when he was obliged to pay us for it,
for he could not stand before the fury of the people when they found out
what had been done."
Poor Sally had felt a twinge that hurt when Lionel Grandison said, "Now
here we can talk without danger of being overheard." The nicer part of
her nature asked if she ought not at once to go away from the rocks. But
she could hardly have done that without herself being overheard, and
sooner than risk that, she made up her mind that this time she must
stay, but that in the future she must sit no more between the wall and
the hedge at Ingleside.
She knew the companion of her Prince to be Reginald Bromfeld, who spoke
next:
"I have but an hour ago heard from Boston, and the town is red-hot over
the unlawful, daring conduct of the soldiers, and the government that
has sent them over here. Mark my words!" exclaimed young Bromfeld, "it
won't be long before a blow will be struck that meaneth war, and when it
is, it will be near Boston town that the first sharp crack of a gun will
be heard.
"And also when that blow is struck, I shall be on the ground almost
before one could say 'Jack Robinson!'"
"I would I could go too," said Lionel, "running like 'Sam Hill!'"
Both young men laughed a little, then Reginald asked:
"But would that be best? It may be that Virginia's sons will need remain
to defend her. You know I hail from Boston, am native there, although
business affairs of my mother's have brought me here."
"I should not mean to fly from duty," said Lionel, "but wherever the
first hard blow for freedom is struck there will men be needed, and for
a time at least I think the conflict will be hottest near old Boston
town."
There came at that moment the sound of gay voices from near the house.
"What you say may be true," Reginald hastened to reply, then he added in
a sly tone, "but I thought it might be there were fair ones, I might
say, _a_ fair one, it would be your first sweet duty to stay and
defend."
"Oh, prithee, halt!" cried Lionel, half impatiently. "_The_ fair one I
would guard and defend, at present, is my native land. All fair dames
and maidens have my respect and command my service, but I can think
neither of billing or cooing or wooing with sound of clanking guns being
raised in our midst, and by those who call us 'rebels!'
"Now here come the ladies. And hark ye! the subject must be changed. I
like not talking of war with those who think it sin to take up arms
against the king."
After they had gone Sally sat for several moments lost in thought.
"It would sometimes seem that he loveth the Lady Rosamond not one whit,"
she said, dreamily.
Then she arose, shook out her pretty skirt with its simple but tasteful
overskirt of flowered cloth, and began a leisurely homeward walk.
Her heart-beats quickened and she turned her head aside, when two
soldiers appeared at a turn in the road. She could usually avoid meeting
them, but to-night they were so near she must needs pass them.
As she hurried by, some green sprays she had held fluttered to the
ground. The next instant a tall, graceful form was by her side, and a
pair of curious eyes were peeping into her straw bonnet.
"Permit me, ma'selle," said a pleasant voice, and the green sprays were
offered her.
Sally had raised her eyes in surprise, but said "Thank you," and was
hurrying on when the soldier suddenly exclaimed "Ah! ah!" as if
surprised at the beauty of the young face, and had no mind to let the
maid escape so easily.
"There are many abroad to-night," he said, with a strange way of calling
his words, "and it might be convenient to have a friend near; would
ma'selle permit me to walk beside her?"
But Sally, with all her shyness at times, was no coward, and she very
well knew that the British soldier and a stranger should not seek to
walk with her. So she replied, in a low voice but with a fine, maidenly
air:
"My home is at the parson's close by. I have no fear, nor is there need
that any one should walk with me;" and she raised her eyes part way to
his face.
The soldier said "Ah!" again, but this time with so great a note of
surprise that Sally looked him full in the face, and lo! it was not a
young man at all that she saw, but a tall, handsome man with thick
moustaches that were going gray.
Now neither Englishmen nor Americans wore moustaches in those days. A
beard or side-whiskers were often worn, but Sally had never before seen
a man with long moustaches that swept his smooth cheek.
But it was not the brave, distinguished look of the soldier that made
Sally pause for an instant with her eyes on his face. Some dim memory
was stirred at sight of him. As she dropped her eyes the soldier said,
in a gentle voice:
"Would not young ma'selle tell her name? I bear myself a name both true
and tried, one of which never to be ashamed. I would know what name
ma'selle is called by."
Sally was quick of thought.
"Parson Kendall might better tell my name," she said. "Oh, and here
comes Mammy!"
And making excuse to dart away, Sally hastened forward at sight of Mammy
Leezer, who had come along at the right moment.
Mammy was out in great glory. A gay bandanna, really a handkerchief of
red silk with yellow dots, was made up into a gay turban, with rabbit's
ears that stood erect just over the middle of her forehead.
Another gay kerchief was crossed over her ample bosom, and her skirt of
white cotton with a red stripe stood out stiff with starch, making Mammy
look much like a sailing balloon as she came slowly along.
"What dat sojer man sayin' to you, honey?" she asked, as Sally flew up
to her in a way to do her affectionate old heart good.
"Nothing much," said Sally. "I dropped some leaves and he picked them up
for me, but I didn't want him stepping beside me, so I ran up to you."
"Which am de proper ting to do," said Mammy, with dignity. "Doan't you
let none of dem Britishers go sparkin' yo' pritty face, honey, nor
doan't you be a bit 'fraid o' dem, neder. I nebber was 'fraid ob de face
of clay, and dar doan't no sojers make eyes at me when I goes out
walkin' ov an evening."
Sally wanted to laugh at the pompous air with which Mammy stalked along,
much like an old dragoon, she thought, for the soft spring weather had
helped her rheumatism, and she could get along with considerable
comfort.
But the road forked, and Mammy went off toward Ingleside, while Sally
went on to the parson's.
She had reached the gate, and was startled as she began going up the
gravelled walk to hear a soft voice beside her say:
"Allow me, ma'selle," and the tall soldier's sword grated on the walk,
as, bending low, he put a card in the curve of her arm. Then lifting his
hat gay with gold lace high above his head, he said, with his gentle
accent, "Au revoir, ma'selle." And he was gone.
"He is French," said Sally, "for he said 'Au revoir, ma'selle,' and that
means 'adieu, or good-by, mademoiselle, until we meet again.'"