THE MISCHIANZA
I had not intended to remain in Philadelphia through the night. Already I
had secured the information sought, and now must consider the safest and
quickest method of escape. It seemed to me this night, given up to
revelry, afforded the best possible opportunity for my safely passing the
British guard-lines. To-morrow discipline would be resumed, the soldiers
would return to their posts and the citizens of the city would again
appear on the streets. This would greatly intensify my danger, for, at
any moment, I might encounter some one who knew me, who might denounce me
to the authorities.
That this was the exact truth of the situation could not be denied, yet,
now, every reckless impulse of my disposition urged me to remain; the
invitation of those laughing blue eyes, the challenge I read in the
lady's fair face, the unsolved mystery of her identity, all combined in a
temptation I found it impossible to resist. As I rode slowly northward,
out of the denser crowd into the almost deserted streets, the shades of
evening already closing about me, the memory of the girl I had
encountered so strangely, and parted with so suddenly, became more and
more alluring, more and more vivid. My thoughts dwelt upon the arch face,
the red lips, smiling to reveal the white teeth, the flushing cheeks, the
mass of soft brown hair revealed beneath the turban, the mocking laughter
in the depths of the blue eyes, and the straight, lithe figure, as she
moved swiftly away to rejoin her friends. Who was she, this lady of the
Blended Rose? this girl with the dignity of rank, and the carelessness of
youth? I must know the answer; it was not in young blood to run away.
Certain facts regarding her were at least clear already--she must be the
daughter of a loyalist, or else related to some of the English officers;
her very presence proved this, while her selection as one of the ladies
of honor, was evidence of high standing socially. And she had dared me,
challenged me with her eyes, to remain, and learn more. There was no
promise, no word spoken I could construe into a pledge, and yet there was
invitation, a suggestion, vague but comprehended, which youth could not
easily ignore. My veins throbbed with anticipation--already was my arm
about the slender waist, my eyes looking into her own. For a dance with
her, a possible understanding, I was willing to venture life itself.
I turned about and glanced at the Dragoon riding behind, half tempted to
question him, but I refrained, not willing to make her the subject of
camp-fire gossip. It would be a more manly course to work this out
myself, and surely I should meet officers at the ball who would gladly
present me to the lady. I should be compelled to attend in field uniform,
yet circumstances would excuse that, and what little I had seen of her
convinced me she was no stickler for conventionality. The duty soldier
was more apt to interest such a personality than any dandy on dress
parade. With a word I dismissed my companion, and turned in to the camp
of the Yagers, sure of a welcome at their mess-table, and a chance to
brush up my soiled clothes.
It must have been nearly nine o'clock when, in company with a young
cornet, I rode up to the house given up to festivities, and, turning over
our horses to the care of cavalry grooms, climbed the wide steps to the
door leading into the hall. Interested as I was in observing faces,
fearful of possible discovery by some one in the crowd, I failed to note
definitely the many decorations, yet I remember how the wide hall was
hung in green and white, each room opening from it possessing a distinct
color scheme, and how, under the gleaming clusters of lights, and
sparkling of glass chandeliers, the gay uniforms of the officers and the
brilliant gowns of the ladies appeared resplendent. The vista of those
great rooms, reflected by numerous mirrors, was a scene of confusing
beauty, with flowers everywhere, soft, glowing carpets underfoot, and the
surging crowds passing back and forth. There was scarcely a black coat
present, to yield touch of sombreness to the picture, but scarlet and
blue, green and white, glowing with profusion of gold lace, and
glittering with medals, together with gleaming shoulders, ruffles of
white lace, and shimmering skirts of silk. All was a riot of color, rich,
bewildering, with smiling faces, and laughing lips everywhere. In such a
spot, amid such surroundings, war seemed a dream, a far-off delirium.
Drawn thither by the music, we climbed the broad stairs toward the
ball-room, passing as we did so, in the upper hall, four drawing-rooms
containing sideboards with refreshments. The ball-room itself was a
picture of Oriental magnificence--the walls were delightfully decorated,
the ground-work pale blue, panelled with a small, gold bead, the interior
filled with drooping festoons of flowers in their natural colors. Below
the surface the ground was of rose pink, the drapery festooned with blue.
The effect of these decorations was vastly increased by nearly a hundred
mirrors, decked out with rose-pink ribbons and artificial flowers, while
in the intermediate spaces were thirty-four branches with wax lights
similarly ornamented. No pen of memory can describe the scene, nor
picture in the gallant company, resplendent in coloring, now moving back
and forth in the evolutions of the minuet.
My companion disappeared, and, to escape the pressure of those surging
back and forth through the wide doorway, I found passage close to the
wall, and half circled the room, finally discovering a halting place in
the recesses of a window, where, partially concealed myself by flowing
curtains, I could gaze out over the brilliant assemblage. Half ashamed of
the plainness of my own attire, and feeling a stranger and an alien, I
was yet consciously seeking the one face which had lured me there. I saw
fair ladies in plenty, and more than once my heart leaped, only to
discover its mistake. There were so many ladies of the Blended Rose on
the floor as to be confusing, and with their similarity of dress, and
powdered hair, I was never sure until they turned their faces toward me
that my patient search was still unrewarded. Yet if she was indeed upon
the floor I saw her not, and my heart grew heavy with delay. But in this
survey I discovered others--of both sexes--whose names had been mentioned
that afternoon, and recognized the faces of a few officers whom I had met
during my wanderings. Surely some of these would present me to the lady
of my dreams could I but see her, learn her name. Before the music ceased
I was convinced she was not among the dancers; I would search the side
rooms, and the apartments below, yet, even as the company sought seats,
soldiers crossed the floor, extinguishing the lights, and amid laughter,
and repartee, the throng surged toward me, hemming me in closely, as they
gathered in eager bunches about the open windows.
Enough conversation reached me to disclose a promised display of
fireworks on the lawn, and almost immediately, a magnificent bouquet of
rockets shot up into the black sky, illuminating everything with a glare
of fire. This was followed by the lighting up of the triumphal arch, and
the bursting of balloons high overhead. Attracted by the spectacle, I was
staring out at the dazzling scene, when a voice spoke at my shoulder.
"'Tis a relief to see even one soldier present ready for duty."
I turned to look into a pair of steady blue eyes, with a bit of mocking
laughter in their depths, the face revealed clearly in the glare of the
rockets.
"Necessity only," I managed to reply. "I can be as gorgeous as these
others, had I brought a bag with me."
"No doubt; every British regiment tries to outdo the others in ribbons,
and gold lace. Really they become tiresome with such foppery in war
times. See how they play to-night, like children, the city practically
unguarded from attack," she waved an ungloved hand toward the dark
without. "I venture there are men out yonder, sir, who are not dancing
and laughing away these hours."
My cheeks burned.
"You mean Washington's troops?"
"Aye! I saw them here in Philadelphia before Sir William came," her voice
lowered, yet earnest, "and they are not playing at war; grim, silent,
sober-faced men, dressed in odds and ends, not pretty to look at; some
tattered and hungry, but they fight hard. Mr. Conway was telling us
yesterday of how they suffered all winter long, while we danced and
feasted here, Washington himself sleeping with the snow drifting over
him. You do not know the Americans, for you are not long across the
water, but they are not the kind to be conquered by such child's play as
this."
"You are an American then?"
"By birth, yes," unhesitatingly. "We are of those loyal to the King,
but--I admire men."
It was with an effort I restrained my words, eager to proclaim my
service, yet comprehending instantly that I dare not even trust this
plain-spoken girl with the truth. She respected the men, sympathized with
the sacrifices of Washington's little army, contrasted all they endured
with the profligacy of the English and Hessian troops, and yet remained
loyal to the King's cause. Even as I hesitated, she spoke again.
"What is your regiment?"
"The 42nd British Foot."
"You have not yet been in action in America?"
"No, but I have just crossed the Jerseys with despatches."
She shook her head, her cheeks glowing.
"My home was there when the war began," she explained simply. "Now it is
hate, pillage, and plunder everywhere. We fled to Philadelphia for our
lives, and have almost forgotten we ever had a home. We loyalists are
paying a price almost equal to those men with Washington. 'Tis this
memory which makes me so bitter toward those who play amid the ruins."
"Yet you have seemed to enter into the gay spirit of the occasion," and
my eyes swept over her costume.
"Oh, I am girl enough to enjoy the glitter, even while the woman in me
condemns it all. You are a soldier--a fighting soldier, I hope--and still
you are here also seeking pleasure."
"True; I yielded to temptation, but for which I should never have come."
"What?"
"The dare in your eyes this afternoon," I said boldly. "But for what I
read there I should be out yonder riding through the night."
She laughed, yet not wholly at ease, the long lashes drooping over her
eyes.
"Always the woman; what would you do without my sex to bear your
mistakes?"
"But was this a mistake? Did I read altogether wrong?"
"Don't expect a confession from me, sir," demurely. "I have no memory of
any promise."
"No, the barest suggestion was all your lips gave; it was the eyes that
challenged."
"You must have dreamed; perhaps you recall the suggestion?"
"I took it to mean that you would not be altogether averse to meeting me
again through the kindness of some mutual friend."
"No doubt you have found such a friend?"
"I have scarcely seen a face I know to-night," I pleaded. "I cannot even
guess from what place of mystery you appeared so suddenly. So now I throw
myself upon your mercy."
"I wonder is it quite safe!" hesitatingly. "But, perhaps, the risk is
equally great on your part. Ah! the lights go on again."
"And the band plays a Hungarian Waltz; how better could we cement
friendship than to that measure?"
"You think so? I am not so sure, and there are many names already on my
card--"
"Do not look," I interrupted swiftly, "for I claim first choice since
this afternoon."
"You do?" and her eyes laughed into mine provokingly. "And I had
forgotten it all; did I, indeed promise you?"
"Only with your eyes."
"Oh, my eyes! always my eyes! Well, for once, at least, I will redeem
even that visionary pledge," and her glance swept the room hastily. "But
I advise that you accept my surrender quickly, sir--I am not sure but
this was Captain Grant's dance, and he is coming now."