By the time we regained our quarters that afternoon I was feeling
decidedly serious. In adopting the wild suggestion of Marcel and riding
into Philadelphia in British red, I had never expected such a
complication as this. We were to do our work quickly, ride away and be
with our own again, in true colors. But the inch had become a yard, and
here we were, involved already in a perfect network of circumstances.
Some one who knew the real Melville and Montague might arrive at any
moment, and then what would become of us? Walking on bayonet points may
be well enough as a novelty, for a moment or two, but as a regular thing
I prefer solid ground.
I know that I looked exceedingly glum, but Marcel's face was careless
and gay. In truth the situation seemed to delight him.
"Marcel!" I exclaimed, "why did the Lord create such a rattle-brained,
South-Carolina, Irish-French American as you?"
"Probably he did it to ease his mind after creating you," he replied,
and continued humming a dance air. His carelessness and apparent
disregard of consequences annoyed me, but I remained silent.
"If I were you, Bob," he said presently, "I'd leave to old man Atlas the
task of carrying the earth on his back. He's been doing it a long time
and knows his business. A beginner like you might miscalculate the
weight, and think what a terrible smash up we'd have then! Moreover, I
don't see what we have to worry about!"
"I don't see what we don't have to worry about!" I replied.
"I'm sure that I have nothing," he continued calmly. "I know of no young
man who is better placed than my own humble self. Behold me, the
Honorable Charles Montague, heir to the noble estate of Bridgewater Hall
in England, a captain in the finest army on the planet, comfortably
quartered in the good city of Philadelphia, which is full of gallant men
and handsome women. I already have friends here in abundance, and a
reputation, too, that is not so bad. I am satisfied, and I recommend
you, Lieutenant Melville, who are equally well situated, to accept your
blessings and cease these untimely laments.
'The lovely Thais sits beside thee.
Take the goods the Gods provide thee!'"
He looked at me with such an air of satisfaction and conceit that I was
compelled to laugh. Of course that was an end of all attempts to argue
with Phil Marcel, and nothing was left to me but resignation.
"You don't complain of your company, do you?" he asked.
"I do not," I replied; "the English officers are a jolly lot,--a fine
set, I will say,--if they are our enemies; and it's a pity we have to
fight them,--all except Belfort, who I know does not like us and who I
believe suspects us."
Marcel looked grave for a moment.
"Yes, Belfort's the possible thorn in our side," he said; "but your
saving Blake as I have told you once before has been a great
advertisement for us. You did that well, Bob, very well for you, though
not as gracefully as I would have done it if the chance had been mine.
Can you tell why it is, Bob, that I always have the merit and you always
have the luck?"
"Perhaps it's because, if you had both, your conceit would set the
Delaware on fire."
Catron and Vivian came in, a half-hour later, and urged us to spend the
evening at the former's quarters, where we would meet all the men whom
we knew, for a good time. They would accept no excuse. Marcel's
spontaneous wit and gayety made him a favorite wherever he went, and I
was a temporary hero through that happy chance of the Blake affair, and
so we were in demand. Secretly I was not unwilling, and Marcel certainly
was not. This lively, luxurious, and careless life, this companionship
of young men who knew all the ways and gossip and pleasant manners of
the great world, took instant hold of me, and I felt its charm
powerfully. Having gone so far, it seemed to me the best thing we could
now do was to do as those around us did, until our own opportunity came.
I do not speak of the luxurious and unmilitary life of the British in
Philadelphia that season in any spirit of criticism, or with a desire to
call special attention to it as something extraordinary. If the case
had been reversed, the American army probably would have done the same
thing. Nearly all the English generals regarded the rebellion as dead or
dying, and many Americans were of the same opinion. Then why not let it
die without being helped on by slaughter? Moreover, many of the British
officers had no feeling of personal hostility whatever towards us, and
all of us know, or ought to know, and remember with gratitude, that a
powerful party in England defended us to the end.
Marcel looked at me with his suggestive smile and drooping of the eyelid
when Catron and Vivian had gone.
"It seems to me that we have found favor at court," he said, "and must
do as the king and courtiers do. Come, Bob, let's float with the
stream."
Vivian, a young officer named Conant, and Vincent Moore, an Irish
lieutenant, came for us about eight o'clock in the evening, and on the
way to Catron's quarters we stopped a few moments to enjoy the fresh
air. The day had been hot, and all of us had felt it.
"I don't think the Lord treated this country fairly in the matter of
climate," said Vivian. "He gave it too much cold in winter and too much
heat in summer."
"Oh, that's nothing," said Marcel; "you'll soon grow used to these hot
summers."
"Why, what do you know about them?" asked Moore, quick as lightning,
"when you've been here less than a week."
I almost groaned at my comrade's thoughtless remark, and my heart paused
for a long time over its next beat. But Marcel was as calm as the
sphinx.
"Why shouldn't I know a great deal about the heat here?" he replied.
"Did I not make my entry into Philadelphia at the rifle muzzles of a lot
of American rascals? Did they not make it warm enough for me then to
become an expert on the subject of heat? Don't you think that I can
endure any temperature after that?"
"You certainly came in a hurry," said Moore, "but you have redeemed
yourselves as quickly as if you were Irishmen, and, after all, what a
pity you were not born Irishmen!"
"Ireland is always unfortunate; she misses everything good," said
Marcel, briefly.
The next instant we met Belfort, and I was devoutly thankful that he had
not been present when Marcel made his remark about our hot summers. Its
suggestive nature would not have been swept so quickly from his mind as
it had been swept from the minds of the others.
But Belfort was in a good humor and was courteous, even cordial, to us.
He complimented us on our share in the skirmish, and to me especially he
hoped that further honors would soon come. Just as we reached Catron's
door he turned to Marcel and said,--
"I've a pleasant bit of news for you, Captain Montague. Your cousin
Harding--Sir John Harding's son, you know--arrived to-day on a frigate
that came up the Delaware, and no doubt he will be as glad to see you
as you will be to see him."
I was thankful for the darkness, as I know I turned pale. Already I felt
piercing me those bayonet points on which we had been dancing so
recklessly. Of course, this cousin arriving in such untimely fashion
would expose us. Confound him! Why had not a merciful Providence wrecked
his ship?
"I hope that I shall meet him soon, to-morrow or perhaps the next day,
when he has fully recovered from the long journey," said Marcel.
"There will be no such wait as that," replied Belfort, cheerfully. "He
will be here to-night, to meet all of us. Catron invited him, and he was
glad to come. I saw him this afternoon, and as he is a good sailor, he
needed no rest."
"So much the better," said Marcel, with unbroken calm. "We can initiate
him to-night into the mysteries of Philadelphia. But all of our family
take readily to new countries."
We were in the anteroom now, and I thought it best to imitate Marcel's
seeming unconcern. It was impossible to withdraw, and it was more
dignified to preserve a bold manner to the last.
A servant opened the door for us, and we passed into the rooms where the
others were gathered. I was blinded for a moment by the lights, but when
my eyes cleared I looked eagerly about me. I knew every man present, and
curiously enough the knowledge gave me a sense of relief.
"I do not see my cousin," said Marcel, as we returned our greetings.
"Belfort told us that he would be here."
"He will come in half an hour," replied Catron. "Remember that he landed
from the ship only this afternoon, and we are not usually in a
break-neck hurry to see cousins, unless they be of the other sex, and
very fair."
We drank wine, and then began to play cards,--whist, picquet, and vingt
et un. Belfort was at our table, and apparently he sought to make
himself most agreeable. As it was unusual in one of his haughty and
arrogant temper, it deceived completely all except Marcel and myself.
But we understood him. We knew that he was expecting some great blow to
fall upon us, and that his good humor arose wholly from the hope and
expectation. What he suspected of us--whether he believed us to be in
false attire, or merely considered us enemies because I had been so bold
as to admire Miss Desmond, the lady of his choice--I could not say. Yet
he undoubtedly expected us to be knocked over by the arrival of this
unexpected and unknown cousin of Marcel's, and it was equally sure that
he hated us both.
He began to talk presently of Harding,--Rupert Harding he called him;
and though he pretended to have eyes only for his cards, I believed that
he was covertly watching our faces. Marcel thought to lead him to a
pleasanter subject, but he would not follow, and the life, career, and
ambitions of Rupert Harding seemed to have become a weight upon his
mind, of which he must talk. Chills, each colder than its predecessor,
raced up and down my backbone, but my face looked calm, and I was proud
that I could keep it so.
Marcel, unable to draw Belfort away from Rupert Harding, began by and by
to show an interest in the subject and to talk of it as volubly as
Belfort himself. But I noticed that nearly everything he said was an
indirect question, and I noticed, too, that he was steadily drawing from
Belfort a full history of this troublesome young man, for the arrival of
whom we were now looking every moment.
Marcel dropped a card presently, and when he leaned over to pick it up,
he whispered,--
"You are keeping a splendid face, old comrade. Let it never be said that
we flinched."
A certain spirit of recklessness now took possession of me. We were past
all helping, we had suffered the torments of anticipated detection, and
having paid the penalty, we might endure the short shrift that was left
to us. I laughed with the loudest and grew reckless with the cards. Luck
having deserted me at all other points, now, as an atonement, made me a
favorite at the gaming-table, and I won rapidly. The arrival of Harding
was long delayed, and I hoped it would be further postponed, at least
long enough for me to win ten more pounds. Then my ambition would be
satisfied.
"It has been a long time since you have seen Harding, has it not?" asked
Belfort of Marcel.
By pure chance all the players happened to be quiet then, but it seemed
as if they were silent merely to hear his answer.
"It has been such a while since I have held a good hand of cards,"
replied Marcel, with a comic gesture of despair, "that my mind can hold
no other measurements of time."
"Don't be downcast, Montague," said Catron, laughing; "your luck will
change if you only play long enough."
"Unless the bottom of my pocket is reached first," said Marcel, with
another rueful face.
Only he and I knew how little was in that pocket.
"Why is that cousin of mine such a laggard?" asked Marcel, presently.
"We have been at the cards nearly an hour and he has not come."
"He will be here," said Belfort. "Does he play a good game?"
"If he doesn't play better than I do," replied Marcel, "he ought to be
banished forever from such good company as this."
"Come, come, Montague!" said Catron, "a soldier like you, who can look
into the angry face of an enemy, should show more courage before the
painted face of a card."
I saw that no suspicion had entered the mind of any save Belfort, and he
pressed his lips together a little in his anger at the way in which his
questions were turned aside. But he was too wise to make a direct
accusation, for all the others would have taken it as absurd, and would
have credited his feelings immediately to the jealousy which he had
shown of me.
The door opened, and a tall young man of our own age in the uniform of a
British officer entered, and stood for a moment looking at us. His face
was unknown to me, and this I felt sure must be Marcel's cursed cousin
Rupert. I saw Marcel's lip moving as if he would greet the stranger but
he remained silent, and I, resolving to keep a bold face throughout,
played the card that I held in my hand.
"You are late, Richmond," said Catron, "but your welcome is the greater.
There are some present whom you do not know. Come, let me introduce you.
This is Lieutenant Moore, and this is Captain Montague, and this,
Lieutenant Melville; the last two just arrived from England, and of
whose adventures you perhaps have heard. Gentlemen, Lieutenant Henry
Richmond of Pennsylvania, one of his Majesty's most loyal and gallant
officers."
So it was not the cousin after all, but a Tory, and my heart sprang up
with a strange sense of relief. A place was made for him at one of the
tables, and the game, or rather games, went on.
"It is warm to-night," said Belfort to me. He called one of the
servants, who opened another window. With Marcel's blunder fresh before
me, I was not likely to repeat it, and I continued to play the cards in
silence.
"Do you not regard the insurrection as dead?" he asked.
"I have been too short a time in America," I replied in a judicial tone,
"to be an authority, but I should say no."
"What do they think at home?" he asked.
"Some one way and some another," I replied. "Fox and Burke and their
followers think, or pretend to think, that the rebels will yet win, and
the loyal servants of the king, who are in the great majority, God bless
him! think that if the insurrection is not dead it soon will be. But why
speak of politics to-night, Lieutenant Belfort, when we are here for
pleasure?"
I was afraid that he would lead me into treacherous fields. He listened,
and then turned back to the subject of Harding.
"He is unusually late," he said, "but I suppose that Captain Montague
can stand it."
"Undoubtedly," I replied. "Cousins are usually superfluous, any way."
I had made up my mind that we would maintain the illusion until the
actual exposure and my nerves had become steady.
The door opened once more, and another young man entered. His features
were unmistakably English. He looked around with the air of a stranger,
and Marcel and I again were silent, just waiting.
"Harding!" exclaimed Catron. "You have found us at last. I was afraid
that you had lost your way."
"So I did," said Harding, "but some one was kind enough to set me on the
right road."
His eyes went from one to another of us, lingered for a moment on
Marcel, and passed on without the slightest sign of recognition. Then I
noticed that the card I held was wet with the sweat of my hand. Catron
began to introduce us, beginning with Vivian. I believed that Belfort
was watching Marcel and me, but I did not dare to look at him and see.
"I have a cousin here, have I not?" broke in Harding,--"Charlie Montague
of Yorkshire? At least I was told that I would find him here, and as we
have never seen each other, I am curious to meet him. Strange, isn't it,
that one should have to come to America to meet one's English kin who
live in the next county."
He laughed a hearty resonant laugh, and a painful weight rolled off my
brain. He had never seen his cousin Montague before! Then he might look
upon his cousin Marcel with safety,--safety to us. My own face remained
impassive, but I saw Belfort's fall a little, and as for Marcel, the
volatile and daring Marcel, he was already metaphorically falling into
his cousin's arms and weeping with joy at the sight of him. Moreover I
knew Marcel well enough to be sure that he could take care of the
conversation and guide it into far-away channels, if Cousin Rupert
wished to lead it upon the subject of their mutual interests and ties in
England.