Barclugh, a mere shadow of his former self, was driven in the carriage
of Dr. Greydon to Dorminghurst. As he passed along Front Street and up
Market Street, he was saluted by General Arnold who smiled graciously
to see his friend convalescing and out of doors.
When Dorminghurst was reached, there could be no mistaking the evident
gratitude in Barclugh’s wan features as he saw Mollie rush out of the
door and down to the carriage, extending both of her hands to him, as
she said:
“How glad we are to see you with us again, Mr. Barclugh! I know that
you will get strong very soon.”
“How kind of you to greet me so cordially, Miss Greydon. I owe my being
here to-day to your esteemed father and to Segwuna,” replied Barclugh
soberly as he arose with difficulty and got out of the carriage with
the assistance of Dr. Greydon.
Dr. Greydon walked with Barclugh and assisted his feeble footsteps to
the bright and airy room overlooking the Wingohocking.
Mrs. Greydon greeted him on the portico with such kindly words of
welcome, and the black servants stood looking on with such respectful
silence, that Barclugh could not help but wonder if it were not his own
mother in his own home who was now greeting him.
The Doctor soon made him lie down on the snowy white bed, and ordered
an egg-nog for his refreshment.
Sentiments of the tenderest feelings welled up in his breast upon the
receipt of such hospitality, and he murmured to himself as he lay on
his bed, peacefully resting:
“This kindness to me passeth all understanding. How shall I ever
express my gratitude and return this compliment that has been paid me?
No, I never expected such treatment as this from the hands of those
whose cause I am endeavoring to defeat. Well, my turn will come, and
then I shall show them my breeding.”
For the next few days Dr. Greydon would not allow Roderick Barclugh to
move out of his bed, for his strength was not enough yet to allow very
much exertion; but the new surroundings, and especially the beautiful
presence of Mollie Greydon, were an inspiration to him.
Mollie took a lively interest in the welfare of her father’s guest and
patient. Every morning she brought a fresh bouquet of the brightest
flowers from the garden and placed them in the sick-room herself;
then in the afternoon, she brought her Latin works along with her, and
read selections to him.
[Illustration: She noticed how longingly he watched her depart.]
In the sweet modulations of her voice, Barclugh found repose as he lay
on his bed,--weak and emaciated. His strength was not enough to allow
him to converse at much length, so that after Mollie had read these
classics to him, his heart throbbed with tender emotions and the words
that left his lips when she had finished:
“I thank you, Miss Greydon,” had the pathos of a heart full of
gratitude.
As he lay with mind so clear but his body so weak, he often dreamed to
himself:
“Oh! if my God will only restore me to my full powers again, I shall
live only to be worthy of the love of Mollie Greydon. She must be all
that is worth living for,--beauty, grace and loving kindness.”
Each day as Mollie brought the fresh flowers to the sick-room, and on
each occasion that she read to the sick, she noticed how longingly he
watched her depart, and how he beamed with joy whenever she entered his
sick-chamber to read some well-chosen classic.
In the course of a week, Roderick Barclugh began to recover his
appetite, and at the end of two weeks, he was strong enough to ride
out in the carriage with Mollie and the Doctor.
The three would drive in the morning and in the latter part of the
afternoon as far as Germantown, and along the banks of the Delaware.
These drives greatly benefited Barclugh’s health; he had also a most
excellent opportunity to get acquainted with the one who was the desire
of his heart.
One day as they drove toward Philadelphia they met Segwuna. Nothing
would satisfy Mollie unless she rode with them.
Mollie made room for her on the seat in the carriage that faced Dr.
Greydon and Mr. Barclugh.
“Don’t you think that our patient looks much improved, Segwuna?”
queried Dr. Greydon, good-naturedly, as the carriage rolled along the
highway.
“Yes, Dr. Greydon,” answered Segwuna, uncomfortably, as she sat looking
vacantly into the carriage top.
The others attempted to be gay, but Segwuna’s presence cast a gloom
over the ride; she neither smiled nor talked except in monosyllables.
“Have you learned anything of importance to-day in the city, about our
affairs of war, Segwuna?” cheerily asked Mollie, turning to the Indian
maiden with her happiest smile.
“Nothing, Miss Greydon, except what traitors would be interested in,”
spoke out Segwuna, sternly.
At the mention of the word “traitor,” Segwuna looked straight at
Roderick Barclugh, and she noticed a twitching of his lips and a
visible blush mounting his neck and ears.
To allay any possible attention to himself, Barclugh now entered into
lively conversation with Dr. Greydon and Miss Mollie, and utterly
ignored Segwuna, who sat stolidly in a brown study during the rest of
the carriage ride.
“Dr. Greydon,” began Barclugh spiritedly, “I am much interested in the
agriculture of the Colonies. There seems to be a wonderful fertility to
the soil, for a settler can go upon land with no capital but his hands
and a yoke of oxen, and inside of a year have a comfortable plantation
established. How can it be done? I do not understand it.”
“The soil is rich in the first place,” replied Dr. Greydon; “then our
American products of Indian corn and potatoes provide abundance for
man and animals, so that there is no difficulty in subsistence. The
natural meadow and the grasses of the woods provide for sleek cattle
and horses; then the abundance of wild pigeons, ducks, and turkeys and
the fish of the rivers and lakes also provide food; the hides of the
deer, bear, coons and squirrel provide raiment and robes. There is no
reason for man to suffer in this wonderfully prosperous country, if he
be industrious,” argued Dr. Greydon, with much satisfaction to himself,
but evidently to the discomfiture of Barclugh, for he remarked:
“This is all so strange to me. I cannot understand how the settlements
start up like mushrooms in the wilderness.”
“It is the promise of the Great Spirit,” contributed Segwuna. “But our
soil must be forever free from the tyranny of kings and potentates,
or the corn would not grow and the potatoes would wither and a famine
would devastate the land.”
“Segwuna is our prophetess, Mr. Barclugh,” declared Mollie, exultingly,
“and we all love her dearly,” continued Mollie, as she turned to
Segwuna, and putting her arms around her neck, kissed her.
Barclugh did not relish the affection that Mollie showed for Segwuna,
so he remarked emphatically:
“We cannot rely on superstition, Miss Greydon.”
The latent fire of the Indian character gleamed in Segwuna’s eyes, and
she longed in her heart to wither Roderick Barclugh, but the time was
not ripe. Segwuna simply kept silent and abided her time.
After the carriage had arrived at Dorminghurst, Dr. Greydon and
Barclugh sat upon the portico and conversed upon sundry subjects while
Mollie and Segwuna strolled off together toward Segwuna’s lodge, Mollie
remarked:
“Something has made you unhappy, Segwuna. What has happened to you?”
“Oh, nothing, my sweetheart. Your Segwuna’s heart bleeds for her
country’s welfare, and I can see that something is to happen during the
next moon that will make us all unhappy; but your Segwuna can not tell
her sweetheart now. It might make me wish that I had not spoken about
it, if it should not happen.
“I wish that my dearest one would excuse Segwuna and let her go to her
lodge, and pray to her Manitou to clear her sky and bring happiness
to her spirit, for her heart is very sad to-day,--very sad to-day,”
repeated Segwuna.
“Yes, yes, my loved one,” replied Mollie. “Your Mollie loves you
and knows how pure and noble her Segwuna is. Good night, dearest.
Good night,” were the parting words of Mollie Greydon, as she kissed
Segwuna, and left her to return to the mansion.
While the two were strolling on the winding path, Roderick Barclugh and
Dr. Greydon sat on the portico and conversed freely. Barclugh resolved
to confess the longings of his heart before his departure, as he knew
that he must soon leave Dorminghurst.
He opened the difficult subject by saying:
“Dr. Greydon, I have now been a guest at your house for two weeks, and
under trying circumstances to your household. I feel that I owe my life
to your tender care and solicitation. My father could do no more for
me; but I hope that you will not consider I am presuming on your good
nature, when I unfold to you an affair of my heart; and ask of you one
of the greatest favors that one man can bestow upon another.
“Dr. Greydon,” continued Barclugh, “ever since I first met your
daughter, I have esteemed her as one of the most talented and beautiful
women in this country, and since I first was a guest in your home, I
have learned to love her; I ask you to give her to me for my wife. My
position and means and prospects warrant me in making this request and
I hope that I may deserve the great honor that I ask you to confer upon
me.”
After a moment of silent reflection, Dr. Greydon replied most
reverently and in the peculiar language of his Quaker persuasion, which
he used only on occasions of great emotion:
“Thou hast been good enough for me to invite thee to my home. If I had
not thought thee good enough to be my son, thou shouldst not have been
my guest; but my daughter must give thee her own consent before thou
canst have mine.”
At the conclusion of these solemn injunctions, Barclugh arose, silently
shook the hand of Dr. Greydon and retired to his bed-chamber for
meditation.