The city of New York was at this period in the possession of the
British. Forced to evacuate Boston, and glad of permission peaceably to
depart, Sir William Howe had retired with his troops, temporarily, to
Halifax, and soon after, landing at Sandy Hook, had fought his way to
New York. Naturally most anxious to visit his relations in that city,
Gansevoort had resolved on crossing to London, for the purpose of
embarking at that place. But here a difficulty occurred. The English
government, irritated by the evident encouragement which France had
given to the revolutionists, kept a vigilant eye upon the movements of
her military men, and gentlemen of rank. Numbers of these had already
enlisted in the American army, and no French officer could at that
period have ventured within any of the colonial cities, which were in
possession of the British, without liability to arrest and detention. It
is true that such an one, so far from being regarded as a prisoner of
war, would doubtless have been allowed to re-embark for his own or any
foreign shore; but this, in the case of De Zeng, would have been to
defeat the very object of his mission. Neither himself nor Gansevoort
could endure the idea of separation from each other, nor could the
latter possibly forego his design of visiting his friends before
entering the army. If another and still more potent cause influenced the
count in persisting at all hazards to accompany his friend, it will be
readily surmised by the reader. Miss Gansevoort had already taken full
possession of his glowing imagination. Incidentally he had become
acquainted with the prominent traits of her character, and had learned
her surpassing beauty by the accidental sight of a miniature in her
brother’s possession. He earnestly desired to form her acquaintance,
without any well defined idea of the motives that influenced him.
Unless, however, he could meet her before entering the army, there was
but little probability that any subsequent opportunity would occur. Let
not the sedate reader be alarmed with the idea of being entrapped into
the perusal of a love tale, abounding with disguises and stratagems,
when informed of the expedient resorted to by the volatile Frenchman in
this dilemma. He resolved to accompany Gansevoort as a
_valet-de-chambre_, laughingly protesting that the latter should impose
no duties upon him beyond those absolutely essential to the sustaining
of his assumed character. To this seemingly absurd proposition his
companion, with great reluctance, was prevailed on to accede. Indeed, De
Zeng would not be denied, and for the purpose of overcoming the scruples
of the other, frankly acknowledged the motives that actuated him.
The plan was duly carried out. The friends proceeded to London, and took
passage in an armed packet for New York. Their fellow-passengers were
but few in number, and as fortunately none of them were familiar with
the French language, they were enabled to maintain nearly as
unrestricted an intercourse as usual. A few weeks brought them safely to
port. It is unnecessary to depict the delight which marked the re-union
of the young American and his friends, whose attachment to each other,
years of separation, so far from diminishing, had tended only to
increase. It was not, therefore, without deep regret that Gansevoort
thought of the pain which he should be obliged to inflict upon his
father, by avowing his political principles, and his determination to
support them.
In this trying crisis his sister proved a ministering angel. She
reminded him of the paramount claims of his country, and of the great
probability that, by the course he had chosen, he would render an
essential service, ultimately, to the parent whose wishes he was now
obliged to contravene. With a degree of natural eloquence, unusual among
her sex, she recounted briefly, but feelingly, all those deep and
burning wrongs which had been heaped by British arrogance upon our land.
She spoke of the martyrs who had already laid down their lives in its
behalf and the self-denying labors and perils of those great men who
were still engaged in the cause, and who were destined, she said, to an
immortality of fame, and to the unceasing gratitude of posterity.
“Do not think, dear Frank,” she concluded, “that I am transcending my
proper line of duty. I talk only to you. But if propriety must seal my
mouth in the presence of others, I only _feel_ the more deeply.”
The Count De Zeng, in his assumed character, was a witness of this
interview. Ellen had been told by her brother that she need not hesitate
to talk in his presence, and inasmuch as he himself spoke only in the
French language, she had inferred that he could comprehend no other;
there was, therefore no restraint upon her feelings.
As, with a heightened color, and eye lighted with strong emotion, she
concluded, her brother smiled and replied: “You are the same artless,
impulsive girl as ever; but, as usual, you are in the right. Do not
believe that your persuasive powers were needed in my behalf. I have not
traveled three thousand miles to engage in this war with a faint heart
or hesitating mind. But there is another, an ardent lover of liberty, on
whom they may not be entirely thrown away. Allow me to introduce you to
my friend and fellow-traveler, the Count Louis De Zeng. He travels, as
you perceive, under a cloud at present; but I think I may safely trust
to your discretion.”
Astonished and bewildered, Ellen could not believe that she had heard
aright; and it was not until some moments after De Zeng, with entire
self-possession, had advanced to pay his respects, which he did in
unexceptionable English, that she found words to reply.
“I know that I have made myself very ridiculous,” she said, blushing
deeply; “but if Count De Zeng is really a republican at heart, he will
make due allowances.”
Count De Zeng _was_ a republican at heart, but at that moment he felt
that there was something at his heart besides republicanism. If ever, in
the course of his approaching warfare, he should have occasion to storm
a citadel, he could ask no better success than had attended Miss
Gansevoort’s undesigned assault. She had carried the outworks, glacis,
fosse, and parapet, at a single blow, and stood at that moment in the
centre of the works completely victorious. What terms she would be
disposed to allow the vanquished, was a question yet to be settled.
Gansevoort hastened to explain to his sister the necessity of his
friend’s disguise, and the importance of preserving the secret; and
Ellen, delighted, as she believed, at this accession to the American
ranks, promised to use all necessary discretion.