For two whole days I did not see my cousin Dorothy, she lying abed with
hot and aching head, and the blinds drawn to keep out all light. So I
had time to consider what we had said and done, and to what we stood
committed.
Yet, with time heavy on my hands and full leisure to think, I could make
nothing of those swift, fevered hours together, nor what had happened to
us that the last moments should have found us in each other's arms, her
tear-stained eyes closed, her lips crushed to mine. For, within that
same hour, at table, she told Sir Lupus to my very face that she desired
to wed Sir George as soon as might be, and would be content with nothing
save that Sir Lupus despatch a messenger to the pleasure house, bidding
Sir George dispose of his affairs so that the marriage fall within the
first three days of June.
I could not doubt my own ears, yet could scarce credit my shocked senses
to hear her; and I had sat there, now hot with anger, now in cold
amazement; not touching food save with an effort that cost me all my
self-command.
As for Sir Lupus, his astonishment and delight disgusted me, for he fell
a-blubbering in his joy, loading his daughter with caresses, breaking
out into praises of her, lauding above all her filial gratitude and her
constancy to Sir George, whom he also larded and smeared with
compliments till his eulogium, buttered all too thick for my weakened
stomach, drove me from the table to pace the dark porch and strive to
reconcile all these warring memories a-battle in my swimming brain.
What demon possessed her to throw away time, when time was our most
precious ally, our only hope! With time--if she truly loved me--what
might not be done? And here, too, was another ally swiftly coming to our
aid on Time's own wings--the war!--whose far breath already fanned the
Mohawk smoke on the northern hills! And still another friendly ally
stood to aid us--absence! For, with Sir George away, plunged into new
scenes, new hopes, new ambitions, he might well change in his
affections. An officer, and a successful one, rising higher every day in
the esteem of his countrymen, should find all paths open, all doors
unlocked, and a gracious welcome among those great folk of New York
city, whose princely mode of living might not only be justified, but
even titled under a new régime and a new monarchy.
These were the half-formed, maddened thoughts that went a-racing through
my mind as I paced the porch that night; and I think they were, perhaps,
the most unworthy thoughts that ever tempted me. For I hated Sir George
and wished him a quick flight to immortality unless he changed in his
desire for wedlock with my cousin.
Gnawing my lips in growing rage I saw the messenger for the pleasure
house mount and gallop out of the stockade, and I wished him evil chance
and a fall to dash his senses out ere he rode up with his cursed message
to Sir George's door.
Passion blinded and deafened me to all whispers of decency; conscience
lay stunned within me, and I think I know now what black obsession
drives men's bodies into murder and their souls to punishments eternal.
Quivering from head to heel, now hot, now cold, and strangling with the
fierce desire for her whom I was losing more hopelessly every moment, I
started aimlessly through the starlight, pacing the stockade like a
caged beast, and I thought my swelling heart would choke me if it broke
not to ease my breath.
So this was love! A ghastly thing, God wot, to transform an honest man,
changing and twisting right and wrong until the threads of decency and
duty hung too hopelessly entangled for him to follow or untwine. Only
one thing could I see or understand: I desired her whom I loved and was
now fast losing forever.
Chance and circumstance had enmeshed me; in vain I struggled in the net
of fate, bruised, stunned, confused with grief and this new fire of
passion which had flashed up around me until I had inhaled the flames
and must forever bear their scars within as long as my seared heart
could pulse.
As I stood there under the dim trees, dumb, miserable, straining my ears
for the messenger's return, came my cousin Dorothy in the pale, flowered
gown she wore at supper, and ere she perceived me I saw her searching
for me, treading the new grass without a sound, one hand pressed to her
parted lips.
When she saw me she stood still, and her hands fell loosely to her side.
"Cousin," she said, in a faint voice.
And, as I did not answer, she stepped nearer till I could see her blue
eyes searching mine.
"What have you done!" I cried, harshly.
"I do not know," she said.
"I know," I retorted, fiercely. "Time was all we had--a few poor
hours--a day or two together. And with time there was chance, and with
chance, hope. You have killed all three!"
"No; ... there was no chance; there is no longer any time; there never
was any hope."
"There was hope!" I said, bitterly.
"No, there was none," she murmured.
"Then why did you tell me that you were free till the yoke locked you to
him? Why did you desire to love? Why did you bid me teach you? Why did
you consent to my lips, my arms? Why did you awake me?"
"God knows," she said, faintly.
"Is that your defence?" I asked. "Have you no defence?"
"None.... I had never loved.... I found you kind and I had known no man
like you.... Every moment with you entranced me till, ... I don't know
why, ... that sweet madness came upon ... us ... which can never come
again--which must never come.... Forgive me. I did not understand. Love
was a word to me."
"Dorothy, Dorothy, what have I done!" I stammered.
"Not you, but I, ... and now it is plain to me why, unwedded, I stand
yoked together with my honor, and you stand apart, fettered to yours....
We have shaken our chains in play, the links still hold firm and bright;
but if we break them, then, as they snap, our honor dies forever. For
what I have done in idle ignorance forgive me, and leave me to my
penance, ... which must last for all my life, cousin.... And you will
forget.... Hush! dearest lad, and let me speak. Well, then I will say
that I pray you may forget! Well, then I will not say that to grieve
you.... I wish you to remember--yet not know the pain that I--"
"Dorothy, Dorothy, do you still love me?"
"Oh, I do love you!... No, no! I ask you to spare me even the touch of
your hand! I ask it, I beg you to spare me! I implore--Be a shield to
me! Aid me, cousin. I ask it for the Ormond honor and for the honor of
the roof that shelters us both!... Now do you understand?... Oh, I
knew you to be all that I adore and worship!
* * * * *
Our fault was in our ignorance. How could we know of that hidden fire
within us, stirring its chilled embers in all innocence until the flames
flashed out and clothed us both in glory, cousin? Heed me, lest it turn
to flames of hell!
* * * * *
And now, dear lad, lest you should deem me mad to cut short the happy
time we had to hope for, I must tell you what I have never told before.
All that we have in all the world is by charity of Sir George. He stood
in the breach when the Cosby heirs made ready to foreclose on father; he
held off the Van Rensselaers; he threw the sop to Billy Livingston and
to that great villain, Klock. To-day, unsecured, his loans to my father,
still unpaid, have nigh beggared him. And the little he has he is about
to risk in this war whose tides are creeping on us through this
very night.
* * * * *
And when he honored me by asking me in marriage, I, knowing all this,
knowing all his goodness and his generosity--though he was not aware I
knew it--I was thankful to say yes--deeming it little enough to please
him--and I not knowing what love meant--"
Her soft voice broke; she laid her hands on her eyes, and stood so,
speaking blindly. "What can I do, cousin? What can I do? Tell me! I love
you. Tell me, use me kindly; teach me to do right and keep my honor
bright as you could desire it were I to be your wife!"
It was that appeal, I think, that brought me back through the distorted
shadows of my passion; through the dark pit of envy, past snares of
jealousy and malice, and the traps and pitfalls dug by Satan, safe to
the trembling rock of honor once again.
Like a blind man healed by miracle, yet still groping in the precious
light that mazed him, so I peering with aching eyes for those threads to
guide me in my stunned perplexity. But when at last I felt their touch,
I found I held one already--the thread of hope--and whether for good or
evil I did not drop it, but gathered all together and wove them to a
rope to hold by.
"What is it I must swear," I asked, cold to the knees.
"Never again to kiss me."
"Never again."
"Nor to caress me."
"Nor to caress you."
"Nor speak of love."
"Nor speak of love."
"And ... that is all," she faltered.
"No, not all. I swear to love you always, never to forget you, never to
prove unworthy in your eyes, never to wed; living, to honor you; dying,
with your name upon my lips."
She had stretched out her arms towards me as though warning me to stop;
but, as I spoke slowly, weighing each word and its cost, her hands
trembled and sought each other so that she stood looking at me, fingers
interlocked and her sweet face as white as death.
And after a long time she came to me, and, raising my hands, kissed
them; and I touched her hair with dumb lips; and she stole away through
the starlight like a white ghost returning to its tomb.
And long after, long, long after, as I stood there, broke on my wrapt
ears the far stroke of horse's hoofs, nearer, nearer, until the black
bulk of the rider rose up in the night and Sir Lupus came to the porch.
"Eh! What?" he cried. "Sir George away with the Palatine rebels? Where?
Gone to Stanwix? Now Heaven have mercy on him for a madman who mixes in
this devil's brew! And he'll drown me with him, too! Dammy, they'll say
that I'm in with him. But I'm not! Curse me if I am. I'm
neutral--neither rebel nor Tory--and I'll let 'em know it, too; only
desiring quiet and peace and a fair word for all. Damnation!"
* * * * *
And so had ended that memorable day and night; and now for two whole
wretched days I had not seen Dorothy, nor heard of her save through
Ruyven, who brought us news that she lay on her bed in the dark with no
desire for company.
"There is a doctor at Johnstown," he said; "but Dorothy refuses, saying
that she is only tired and requires peace and rest. I don't like it,
Cousin George. Never have I seen her ill, nor has any one. Suppose you
look at her, will you?"
"If she will permit me," I said, slowly. "Ask her, Ruyven."
But he returned, shaking his head, and I sat down once more upon the
porch to think of her and of all I loved in her; and how I must strive
to fashion my life so that I do naught that might shame me should
she know.
Now that it was believed that factional bickering between the
inhabitants of Tryon County might lead, in the immediate future, to
something more serious than town brawls and tavern squabbles; and,
more-over, as the Iroquois agitation had already resulted in the
withdrawal to Fort Niagara of the main body of the Mohawk nation--for
what ominous purpose it might be easy to guess--Sir Lupus forbade the
children to go a-roaming outside his own boundaries.
Further, he had cautioned his servants and tenants not to rove out of
bounds, to avoid public houses like the "Turtle-dove and Olive," and to
refrain from busying themselves about matters in which they had
no concern.
Yet that very day, spite of the patroon's orders, when General
Schuyler's militia-call went out, one-half of his tenantry disappeared
overnight, abandoning everything save their live-stock and a rough cart
heaped with household furniture; journeying with women and children,
goods and chattels, towards the nearest block-house or fort, there to
deposit all except powder-horn, flint, and rifle, and join the district
regiment now laboring with pick and shovel on the works at Fort Stanwix.
As I sat there on the porch, wretched, restless, debating what course I
should take in the presence of this growing disorder which, as I have
said, had already invaded our own tenantry, came Sir Lupus a-waddling,
pipe in hand, and Cato bearing his huge chair so he might sit in the
sun, which was warm on the porch.
"You've heard what my tenant rascals have done?" he grunted, settling in
his chair and stretching his fat legs.
"Yes, sir," I said.
"What d' ye think of it? Eh? What d' ye think?"
"I think it is very pitiful and sad to see these poor creatures leaving
their little farms to face the British regulars--and starvation."
"Face the devil!" he snorted. "Nobody forces 'em!"
"The greater honor due them," I retorted.
"Honor! Fol-de-rol! Had it been any other patroon but me, he'd turn his
manor-house into a court-house, arrest 'em, try 'em, and hang a few for
luck! In the old days, I'll warrant you, the Cosbys would have stood no
such nonsense--no, nor the Livingstons, nor the Van Cortlandts. A
hundred lashes here and there, a debtor's jail, a hanging or two, would
have made things more cheerful. But I, curse me if I could ever bring
myself to use my simplest prerogatives; I can't whip a man, no! I can't
hang a man for anything--even a sheep-thief has his chance with me--like
that great villain, Billy Bones, who turned renegade and joined Danny
Redstock and the McCraw."
He snorted in self-contempt and puffed savagely at his clay pipe.
"La patroon? Dammy, I'm an old woman! Get me my knitting! I want my
knitting and a sunny spot to mumble my gums and wait for noon and a dish
o' porridge!... George, my rents are cut in half, and half my farms
left to the briers and wolves in one day, because his Majesty, General
Schuyler, orders his Highness, Colonel Dayton, to call out half the
militia to make a fort for his Eminence, Colonel Gansevoort!"
"At Stanwix?"
"They call it Fort Schuyler now--after his Highness in Albany.
"Sir Lupus," I said, "if it is true that the British mean to invade us
here with Brant's Mohawks, there is but one bulwark between Tryon County
and the enemy, and that is Fort Stanwix. Why, in Heaven's name, should
it not be defended? If this British officer and his renegades, regulars,
and Indians take Stanwix and fortify Johnstown, the whole country will
swarm with savages, outlaws, and a brutal soldiery already hardened and
made callous by a year of frontier warfare!
"Can you not understand this, sir? Do you think it possible for these
blood-drunk ruffians to roam the Mohawk and Sacandaga valleys and
respect you and yours just because you say you are neutral? Turn loose a
pack of famished panthers in a common pasture and mark your sheep with
your device and see how many are alive at daybreak!"
"Dammy, sir!" cried Sir Lupus, "the enemy are led by British gentlemen."
"Who doubtless will keep their own cuffs clean; it were shame to doubt
it! But if the Mohawks march with them there'll be a bloody page in
Tryon County annals."
"The Mohawks will not join!" he said, violently. "Has not Schuyler held
a council-fire and talked with belts to the entire confederacy?"
"The confederacy returned no belts," I said, "and the Mohawks were not
present."
"Kirkland saw Brant," he persisted, obstinately.
"Yes, and sent a secret report to Albany. If there had been good news in
that report, you Tryon County men had heard it long since, Sir Lupus."
"With whom have you been talking, sir?" he sneered, removing his pipe
from his yellow teeth.
"With one of your tenants yesterday, a certain Christian Schell, lately
returned with Stoner's scout."
"And what did Stoner's men see in the northwest?" he demanded,
contemptuously.
"They saw half a thousand Mohawks with eyes painted in black circles and
white, Sir Lupus."
"For the planting-dance!" he muttered.
"No, Sir Lupus. The castles are empty, the villages deserted. There is
not one Mohawk left on their ancient lands, there is not one seed
planted, not one foot of soil cultivated, not one apple-bough grafted,
not one fish-line set!
"And you tell me the Mohawks are painted for the planting-dance, in
black and white? With every hatchet shining like silver, and every
knife ground to a razor-edge, and every rifle polished, and every
flint new?"
"Who saw such things?" he asked, hoarsely.
"Christian Schell, of Stoner's scout."
"Now God curse them if they lift an arm to harm a Tryon County man!" he
burst out. "I'll not believe it of the British gentlemen who differ with
us over taxing tea! No, dammy if I'll credit such a monstrous thing as
this alliance!"
"Yet, a few nights since, sir, you heard Walter Butler and Sir John
threaten to use the Mohawks."
"And did not heed them!" he said, angrily. "It is all talk, all threats,
and empty warning. I tell you they dare not for their names' sakes
employ the savages against their own kind--against friends who think not
as they think--against old neighbors, ay, their own kin!
"Nor dare we. Look at Schuyler--a gentleman, if ever there was one on
this rotten earth--standing, belts in hand, before the sachems of the
confederacy, not soliciting Cayuga support, not begging Seneca aid, not
proposing a foul alliance with the Onondagas; but demanding right
manfully that the confederacy remain neutral; nay, more, he repulsed
offers of warriors from the Oneidas to scout for him, knowing what that
sweet word 'scout' implied--God bless him I ... I have no love for
Schuyler.... He lately called me 'malt-worm,' and, if I'm not at fault,
he added, 'skin-flint Dutchman,' or some such tribute to my thrift. But
he has conducted like a man of honor in this Iroquois matter, and I care
not who hears me say it!"
He settled himself in his chair, mumbling in a rumbling voice, and all I
could make out was here and there a curse or two distributed impartially
'twixt Tory and rebel and other asses now untethered in the world.
"Well, sir," I said, "from all I can gather, Burgoyne is marching
southward through the lakes, and Clinton is gathering an army in New
York to march north and meet Burgoyne, and now comes this Barry St.
Leger on the flank, aiming to join the others at Albany after taking
Stanwix and Johnstown on the march--three spears to pierce a common
centre, three torches to fire three valleys, and you neutral Tryon men
in the centre, calm, undismayed, smoking your pipes and singing songs of
peace and good-will for all on earth."
"And why not, sir!" he snapped.
"Did you ever hear of Juggernaut?"
"I've heard the name--a Frenchman, was he not? I think he burned
Schenectady."
"No, sir; he is a heathen god."
"And what the devil, sir, has Tryon County to do with heathen gods!" he
bawled.
"You shall see--when the wheels pass," I said, gloomily.
He folded his fat hands over his stomach and smoked in obstinate
silence. I, too, was silent; again a faint disgust for this man seized
me. How noble and unselfish now appeared the conduct of those poor
tenants of his who had abandoned their little farms to answer Schuyler's
call!--trudging northward with wives and babes, trusting to God for
bread to fall like manna in this wilderness to save the frail lives of
their loved ones, while they faced the trained troops of Great Britain,
and perhaps the Iroquois.
And here he sat, the patroon, sucking his pipe, nursing his stomach; too
cautious, too thrifty to stand like a man, even for the honor of his own
roof-tree! Lord! how mean, how sordid did he look to me, sulking there,
his mottled double-chin crowded out upon his stock, his bow-legs wide to
cradle the huge belly, his small eyes obstinately a-squint and partly
shut, which lent a gross shrewdness to the expanse of fat, almost
baleful, like the eye of a squid in its shapeless, jellied body!
"What are your plans?" he said, abruptly.
I told him that, through Sir George, I had placed my poor services at
the State's disposal.
"You mean the rebel State's disposal?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then you are ready to enlist?"
"Quite ready, Sir Lupus."
"Only awaiting summons from Clinton and Schuyler?" he sneered.
"That is all, sir."
"And what about your properties in Florida?"
"I can do nothing there. If they confiscate them in my absence, they
might do worse were I to go back and defy them. I believe my life is
worth something to our cause, and it would be only to waste it foolishly
if I returned to fight for a few indigo-vats and canefields."
"While you can remain here and fight for other people's hen-coops, eh?"
"No, sir; only to take up the common quarrel and stand for that liberty
which we inherited from those who now seek to dispossess us."
"Quite an orator!" he observed, grimly. "The Ormonds were formerly more
ready with their swords than with their tongues."
"I trust I shall not fail to sustain their traditions," I said,
controlling my anger with a desperate effort.
He burst out into a hollow laugh.
"There you go, red as a turkey-cock and madder than a singed tree-cat!
George, can't you let me plague you in comfort! Dammy, it's undutiful!
For pity's sake! let me sneer--let me gibe and jeer if it eases me."