THE SPY - A Tale of the Neutral Ground (Historical Novel). Джеймс Фенимор Купер
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the captain, in surprise; “I have no cold in my head.”
“I fancied it then, from seeing you had covered such handsome black locks with that ugly old wig. It was my mistake; you will please to pardon it.”
Mr. Wharton groaned aloud; but the ladies, ignorant of the extent of their visitor’s knowledge, remained in trembling yet rigid silence. The captain himself moved his hand involuntarily to his head, and discovered that the trepidation of his sisters had left some of his natural hair exposed. The dragoon watched the movement with a continued smile, when, seeming to recollect himself, turning to the father, he proceeded,—
“Then, sir, I am to understand there has not been a Mr. Harper here, within the week?”
“Mr. Harper,” echoed the other, feeling a load removed from his heart, “yes, I had forgotten; but he is gone; and if there be anything wrong in his character, we are in entire ignorance of it; to me he was a total stranger.”
“You have but little to apprehend from his character,” answered the dragoon dryly. “But he is gone—how—when—and whither?”
“He departed as he arrived,” said Mr. Wharton, gathering renewed confidence from the manner of the trooper; “on horseback, last evening, and he took the northern road.”
The officer listened to him with intense interest, his countenance gradually lighting into a smile of pleasure, and the instant Mr. Wharton concluded his laconic reply he turned on his heel and left the apartment. The Whartons, judging from his manner, thought he was about to proceed in quest of the object of his inquiries. They observed the dragoon, on gaining the lawn, in earnest and apparently pleased conversation with his two subalterns. In a few moments orders were given to some of the troops, and horsemen left the valley, at full speed, by its various roads.
The suspense of the party within, who were all highly interested witnesses of this scene, was shortly terminated: for the heavy tread of the dragoon soon announced his second approach. He bowed again politely as he reentered the room, and walking up to Captain Wharton, said, with comic gravity,—
“Now, sir, my principal business being done, may I beg to examine the quality of that wig?”
The British officer imitated the manner of the other, as he deliberately uncovered his head, and handing him the wig, observed, “I hope, sir, it is to your liking.”
“I cannot, without violating the truth, say it is,” returned the dragoon. “I prefer your ebony hair, from which you seem to have combed the powder with great industry. But that must have been a sad hurt you have received under this enormous black patch.”
“You appear so close an observer of things, I should like your opinion of it, sir,” said Henry, removing the silk, and exhibiting the cheek free from blemish.
“Upon my word, you improve most rapidly in externals,” added the trooper, preserving his muscles in inflexible gravity. “If I could but persuade you to exchange this old surtout for that handsome blue coat by your side, I think I never could witness a more agreeable metamorphosis, since I was changed myself from a lieutenant to a captain.”
Young Wharton very composedly did as was required and stood an extremely handsome, well-dressed young man. The dragoon looked at him for a minute with the drollery that characterized his manner, and then continued,—
“This is a newcomer in the scene; it is usual, you know, for strangers to be introduced; I am Captain Lawton, of the Virginia horse.”
“And I, sir, am Captain Wharton, of his Majesty’s 60th regiment of foot,” returned Henry, bowing stiffly, and recovering his natural manner.
The countenance of Lawton changed instantly, and his assumed quaintness vanished. He viewed the figure of Captain Wharton, as he stood proudly swelling with a pride that disdained further concealment, and exclaimed with great earnestness,—
“Captain Wharton, from my soul I pity you!”
“Oh! then,” cried the father in agony, “if you pity him, dear sir, why molest him? He is not a spy; nothing but a desire to see his friends prompted him to venture so far from the regular army in disguise. Leave him with us; there is no reward, no sum, which I will not cheerfully pay.”
“Sir, your anxiety for your friend excuses your language,” said Lawton, haughtily; “but you forget I am a Virginian, and a gentleman.” Turning to the young man, he continued, “Were you ignorant, Captain Wharton, that our pickets have been below you for several days?”
“I did not know it until I reached them, and it was then too late to retreat,” said Wharton sullenly. “I came out, as my father has mentioned, to see my friends, understanding your parties to be at Peekskill, and near the Highlands, or surely I would not have ventured.”
“All this may be very true; but the affair of Andre has made us on the alert. When treason reaches the grade of general officers, Captain Wharton, it behooves the friends of liberty to be vigilant.”
Henry bowed to this remark in distant silence, but Sarah ventured to urge something in behalf of her brother. The dragoon heard her politely, and apparently with commiseration; but willing to avoid useless and embarrassing petitions, he answered mildly,—
“I am not the commander of the party, madam; Major Dunwoodie will decide what must be done with your brother; at all events he will receive nothing but kind and gentle treatment.”
“Dunwoodie!” exclaimed Frances, with a face in which the roses contended for the mastery with the paleness of apprehension. “Thank God! then Henry is safe!”
Lawton regarded her with a mingled expression of pity and admiration; then shaking his head doubtingly, he continued,—
“I hope so; and with your permission, we will leave the matter for his decision.”
The color of Frances changed from the paleness of fear to the glow of hope. Her dread on behalf of her brother was certainly greatly diminished; yet her form shook, her breathing became short and irregular, and her whole frame gave tokens of extraordinary agitation. Her eyes rose from the floor to the dragoon, and were again fixed immovably on the carpet—she evidently wished to utter something but was unequal to the effort. Miss Peyton was a close observer of these movements of her niece, and advancing with an air of feminine dignity, inquired,—
“Then, sir, we may expect the pleasure of Major Dunwoodie’s company shortly?”
“Immediately, madam,” answered the dragoon, withdrawing his admiring gaze from the person of Frances. “Expresses are already on the road to announce to him our situation, and the intelligence will speedily bring him to this valley; unless, indeed, some private reasons may exist to make a visit particularly unpleasant.”
“We shall always be happy to see Major Dunwoodie.”
“Oh! doubtless; he is a general favorite, May I presume on it so far as to ask leave to dismount and refresh my men, who compose a part of his squadron?”
There was a manner about the trooper that would have made the omission of such a request easily forgiven by Mr. Wharton, but he was fairly entrapped by his own eagerness to conciliate, and it was useless to withhold a consent which he thought would probably be extorted; he therefore made the most of necessity, and gave such orders as would facilitate the wishes of Captain Lawton.
The officers were invited to take their morning’s repast at the family breakfast table, and having made their arrangements without, the invitation was frankly accepted. None of the watchfulness, which was so necessary to their situation, was neglected by the wary partisan. Patrols were seen on the distant hills, taking their protecting circuit around their comrades, who were enjoying, in the midst of danger, a security that can only spring from the watchfulness of discipline and the indifference of habit.
The addition to the party at Mr. Wharton’s table was only three, and they were all of them men who, under the rough exterior induced by actual and arduous service, concealed the manners of gentlemen. Consequently, the interruption to