FRANCES REMINDS MR. HARPER OF HIS PROMISE.
Frances could no longer doubt that the figure she had seen on the hill
was Birch, and she felt certain that, instead of flying to the
friendly forces below, her brother would be taken to the mysterious
hut to pass the night. Therefore she held a long and animated
discussion with her aunt; when the good spinster reluctantly yielded
to the representation of her niece, and folding her in her arms, she
kissed the cold cheek and fervently blessing her allowed her to depart
on an errand of fraternal love.
The night had set in dark and chilling as Frances Wharton, with a
beating heart but light step, moved through the little garden that lay
behind the farm-house which had been her brother's prison, and took
her way to the foot of the mountain, where she had seen the figure of
him she supposed to be the peddler.
Without pausing to reflect, however, she flew over the ground with a
rapidity that seemed to bid defiance to all impediments, nor stopped
even to breathe, until she had gone half the distance to the rock that
she had marked as the spot where Birch made his appearance on that
very morning.
When she heard the footsteps of a horse moving slowly up the road, she
shrank timidly into a little thicket of wood which grew around the
spring that bubbled from the side of a hillock near her. Frances
listened anxiously to the retreating footsteps of the horse; and, as
they died upon her ear, she ventured from her place of secrecy and
advanced a short distance into the field, where, startled at the gloom
and appalled with the dreariness of the prospect, she paused to
reflect on what she had undertaken.
Throwing back the hood of her cardinal,[121] she sought the support
of a tree and gazed towards the summit of the mountain that was to be
the goal of her enterprise. It rose from the plain like a huge
pyramid, giving nothing to the eye but its outlines.
[Footnote 121: a woman's short cloak.]
Frances turned her looks towards the east, in earnest gaze at the
clouds which constantly threatened to involve her again in comparative
darkness. Had an adder stung her, she could not have sprung with
greater celerity than she recoiled from the object against which she
was leaning, and which she had for the first time noticed. The two
upright posts, with a cross-beam on their tops and a rude platform
beneath, told but too plainly the nature of the structure; even the
cord was suspended from an iron staple, and was swinging to and fro in
the night air. Frances hesitated no longer, but rather flew than ran
across the meadow, and was soon at the base of the rock, where she
hoped to find something like a path to the summit of the mountain. She
soon found a sheep-path that wound round the shelving rocks and among
the trees.
Nearly an hour did she struggle with the numerous difficulties that
she was obliged to overcome; when, having been repeatedly exhausted
with her efforts, and, in several instances, in great danger from
falls, she succeeded in gaining the small piece of table-land on the
summit.
No hut nor any vestige of human being could she trace. The idea of her
solitude struck on the terrified mind of the affrighted girl, and
approaching to the edge of a shelving rock she bent forward to gaze on
the signs of life in the vale; when a ray of keen light dazzled her
eyes, and a warm ray diffused itself over her whole frame. Recovering
from her surprise, Frances looked on the ledge beneath her, and at
once perceived that she stood directly over the object of her search.
A hole through its roof afforded a passage to the smoke which, as it
blew aside, showed her a clear and cheerful fire crackling and
snapping on a rude hearth of stone. The approach to the front of the
hut was by a winding path around the point of the rock on which she
stood, and by this she advanced to its door.
Three sides of this singular edifice were composed of logs laid
alternately on each other, to a little more than the height of a man,
and the fourth was formed by the rock against which it leaned. The
roof was made of the bark of trees, laid in long strips from the rock
to its eaves; the fissures[122] between the logs had been stuffed with
clay, which in many places had fallen out, and dried leaves were made
use of as a substitute to keep out the wind. A single window of four
panes of glass was in front, but a board carefully closed it in such a
manner as to emit no light from the fire within. After pausing some
time to view this singularly constructed hiding-place, for such
Frances knew it to be, she applied her eye to a crevice to examine the
inside.
[Footnote 122: clefts or openings.]
There was no lamp or candle, but the blazing fire of dry wood made the
interior of the hut light enough to read by. In one corner lay a bed
of straw with a pair of blankets thrown carelessly over it, as if left
where they had last been used.
In an angle against the rock and opposite to the fire which was
burning in the other corner, was an open cupboard, that held a plate
or two, a mug, and the remains of some broken meat.
Before the fire was a table, with one of its legs fractured, and
made of rough boards; these, with a single stool, composed the
furniture--if we except a few articles of cooking. A book that, by
its size and shape, appeared to be a Bible, was lying on the table
unopened. But it was the occupant of the hut in whom Frances was
chiefly interested. This was a man, sitting on the stool, with his
head leaning on his hand in such a manner as to conceal his features,
and deeply occupied in examining some open papers. On the table lay
a pair of curiously and richly mounted horseman's pistols, and the
handle of a sheathed rapier,[123] of exquisite workmanship, protruded
from between the legs of the gentleman, one of whose hands carelessly
rested on its guard. The tall stature of this unexpected tenant of the
hut, and his form, much more athletic than that of either Harvey or
her brother, told Frances, without the aid of his dress, that it was
neither of those she sought. A close surtout[124] was buttoned high in
the throat of the stranger, and parting at the knees showed breeches
of buff, with military boots and spurs. His hair was dressed so as
to expose the whole face, and, after the fashion of that day, it was
profusely powdered. A round hat was laid on the stones that formed a
paved floor to the hut, as if to make room for a large map which,
among other papers, occupied the table.
[Footnote 123: sword.]
[Footnote 124: overcoat.]
This was an unexpected event to our adventurer. She had been so
confident that the figure twice seen was the peddler, that, on
learning his agency in her brother's escape, she did not in the least
doubt of finding them both in the place, which, she now discovered,
was occupied by another and a stranger. She stood, earnestly looking
through the crevice, hesitating whether to retire, or to wait with the
expectation of yet meeting Henry, as the stranger moved his hand from
before his eyes and raised his face, apparently in deep musing, when
Frances instantly recognized the benevolent and strongly marked, but
composed features of Harper.
All that Dunwoodie had said of his power and disposition, all that he
himself had promised her brother, and all the confidence that had been
created by his dignified and paternal manner, rushed across the mind
of Frances, who threw open the door of the hut, and falling at his
feet, clasping his knees with her arms, as she cried: "Save him, save
him--save my brother; remember your promise, and save him!"
Harper had risen as the door opened, and there was a slight movement
of his hand towards his pistols; but it was cool, and instantly
checked. He raised the hood of the cardinal, which had fallen over her
features, and exclaimed with some uneasiness:
"Miss Wharton! But you cannot be alone?"
"There is none here but my God and you; and by his sacred name, I
conjure you to remember your promise, and save my brother!"
Harper gently raised her from her knees and placed her on the stool,
begging her at the same time to be composed, and to acquaint him with
the nature of her errand. This Frances instantly did, and after a
short pause added:
"We can depend much on the friendship of Major Dunwoodie;
but his sense of honor is so pure, that--that--notwithstanding
his--his--feelings--his desire to serve us--he will conceive it to
be his duty to apprehend[125] my brother again. Besides, he thinks
there will be no danger in so doing, as he relies greatly on your
interference."
[Footnote 125: arrest.]
"On mine?" said Harper, who appeared slightly uneasy.
"Yes, on yours. When we told him of your kind language, he at once
assured us all that you had the power, and, if you had promised, would
have the inclination, to procure Henry's pardon."
"Said he more?" asked Harper.
"Nothing but reiterate assurances of Henry's safety; even now he is in
quest of you."
"Miss Wharton, that I bear no mean part in the unhappy struggle
between England and America, it might now be useless to deny. You owe
your brother's escape, this night, to my knowledge of his innocence,
and the remembrance of my word. Major Dunwoodie is mistaken when he
says that I might openly have procured his pardon. I now, indeed, can
control his fate, and I pledge to you a word which has some influence
with Washington, that means shall be taken to prevent his recapture.
But from you, also, I exact a promise, that this interview, and all
that has passed between us, remain confined to your own bosom, until
you have my permission to speak upon the subject."
Frances gave the desired assurance, and he continued:
"The peddler and your brother will soon be here, but I must not be
seen by the royal officer, or the life of Birch might be the
forfeiture."[126]
[Footnote 126: penalty.]
"Never!" cried Frances, ardently; "Henry never could be so base as to
betray the man who saved him."
"It is no childish game we are now playing, Miss Wharton. Men's lives
and fortunes hang upon slender threads, and nothing must be left to
accident that can be guarded against."
While Harper was speaking he carefully rolled up the map he had been
studying, and placed it, together with sundry papers that were open,
in his pocket. He was still occupied in this manner, when the voice of
the peddler, talking in unusually loud tones, was heard directly over
their heads.
"Stand farther this way, Captain Wharton, and you can see the tents in
the moonshine. But let them mount and ride; I have a nest here that
will hold us both, and we will go in at our leisure."
"And where is this nest? I confess that I have eaten but little the
last two days, and I crave some of the cheer you mention."
"Hem!" said the peddler, exerting his voice still more, "hem!--this
fog has given me a cold; but move slow, and be careful not to slip, or
you may land on the bayonet of the sentinel on the flats; 'tis a steep
hill to rise, but one can go down it with ease."
Harper pressed his finger on his lip, to remind Frances of her
promise, and taking his pistols and hat, so that no vestige of his
visit remained, he retired deliberately to the far corner of the hut,
where, lifting several articles of clothing, he entered a recess in
the rock, and letting them fall again was hid from view. Frances
noticed, by the strong firelight, as he entered, that it was a natural
cavity, and contained nothing but a few more articles of domestic use.
The surprise of Henry and the peddler, on entering and finding Frances
in possession of the hut, may be easily imagined. Without waiting for
explanations or questions, the warm-hearted girl flew into the arms of
her brother, and gave vent to her emotions in tears. But the peddler
seemed struck with different feelings. His first look was at the fire,
which had been recently supplied with fuel; he then drew open a small
drawer of the table, and looked a little alarmed at finding it empty.
"Are you alone, Miss Fanny?" he asked in a quick voice; "you did not
come here alone?"
"As you see me, Mr. Birch," said Frances, raising herself from her
brother's arms, and turning an expressive glance towards the secret
cavern, that the quick eye of the peddler instantly understood.
"But why and wherefore are you here?" exclaimed her astonished
brother; "and how knew you of this place at all?"
Frances entered at once into a brief detail of what had occurred at
the house since their departure, and the motives which induced her to
seek them.
"But," said Birch, "why follow us here, when we were left on the
opposite hill?"
Frances related the glimpse she had caught of the hut and the peddler,
in her passage through the Highlands, and her immediate conjecture
that the fugitives would seek shelter of this habitation for the
night.
The peddler seemed satisfied; for he drew back, and watching his
opportunity, unseen by Henry, slipped behind the screen, and entered
the cavern.
Frances and her brother, who thought his companion had passed through
the door, continued conversing on the latter's situation for several
minutes, when the former urged the necessity of expedition on his
part, in order to precede Dunwoodie, from whose sense of duty they
knew they had no escape. The captain took out his pocket-book, and
wrote a few lines with his pencil; then folding the paper, he handed
it to his sister.
"Frances," he said, "you have this night proved yourself to be an
incomparable woman. As you love me, give that unopened letter to
Dunwoodie, and remember that two hours may save my life."
"I will--I will; but why delay? Why not fly, and improve these
precious moments?"
"Your sister says well, Captain Wharton," exclaimed Harvey, who had
reentered unseen; "we must go at once. Here is food to eat as we
travel."
"But who is to see this fair creature in safety?" cried the captain.
"I can never desert my sister in such a place as this."
"Leave me! leave me!" said Frances; "I can descend as I came up. Do
not doubt me; you know not my courage nor my strength."
"Captain Wharton," said Birch, throwing open the door, "you can trifle
with your own lives, if you have many to spare; I have but one, and
must nurse it. Do I go alone, or not?"
"Go, go, dear Henry!" said Frances, embracing him; "go! Remember our
father; remember Sarah." She waited not for his answer, but gently
forced him through the door, and closed it with her own hands.
For a short time there was a warm debate between Henry and the
peddler; but the latter finally prevailed, and the breathless girl
heard the successive plunges as they went down the side of the
mountain at a rapid rate.
Immediately after the noise of their departure had ceased, Harper
reappeared. He took the arm of Frances in silence, and led her from
the hut and down the mountain.
Wondering who this unknown but powerful friend of her brother could
be, Frances glided across the fields, and using due precautions in
approaching the dwelling, regained her residence undiscovered and in
safety.