Part 26 (2/2)

”You'll accept Mrs. Russell's invitation, dear,” said Mrs.

Faringfield, in tears, ”and we can see you every day.”

”Certainly, for the present,” replied Margaret, who did not weep, but spoke in a singularly gentle voice.

”And I, too, for to-night, with my best thanks,” added Ned, who had not been invited, but whom my mother preferred not to refuse.

Noah brought in the cloak, and placed it around Madge with an unusual attentiveness, prolonging the slight service to its utmost possible length, and keeping an eye for any sign of relenting on the part of his master.

My mother and I stood waiting for Margaret, while Mrs. Faringfield and f.a.n.n.y weepingly embraced her. That done, and with a good-night for Tom and Mr. Cornelius, but not a word or a look for her father, who stood as silent and motionless as marble, she laid her hand softly upon my arm, and we went forth, leaving my mother to the unwelcome escort of Ned. The door closed upon us four--'twas the last time it ever closed upon one of us--and in a few seconds we were at our steps. And who should come along at that moment, on his way to his quarters, but Captain Falconer? He stopped, in pleased surprise, and, peering at our faces in the darkness, asked in his gay, good-natured way what fun was afoot.

”Not much fun,” said Margaret. ”I have just left my father's house, at his command.”

He stood in a kind of daze. As it was very cold, we bade him good night, and went in. Reopening the door, and looking out, I saw him proceeding homeward, his head averted in a meditative att.i.tude. I knew not till the next day what occurred when he arrived in the Faringfield hall.

”Sir,” said Tom Faringfield, stepping forth from where he had been leaning against the stair-post, ”I must speak low, because my parents and sister are in the parlour there, and I don't wish them to hear--”

”With all my heart,” replied Falconer. ”Won't you come into my room, and have a gla.s.s of wine?”

”No, sir. If I had a gla.s.s of wine, I should only waste it by throwing it in your face. All I have to say is, that you are a scoundrel, and I desire an opportunity to kill you as soon as may be--”

”Tut, tut, my dear lad--”

”I'll think of a pretext, and send my friend to you to-morrow,” added Tom, and, turning his back, went quietly up-stairs to his room; where, having locked the door, he fell face forward upon his bed, and cried like a heart-broken child.

CHAPTER XV.

_In Which There Is a Flight by Sea, and a Duel by Moonlight._

It appeared, from Ned Faringfield's account of himself, that after his encounter with Philip, and his fall from the shock of his wound, he had awakened to a sense of being still alive, and had made his way to the house of a farmer, whose wife took pity on him and nursed him in concealment to recovery. He then travelled through the woods to Staten Island, where, declaring himself a deserter from the rebel army, he demanded to be taken before the British commander.

Being conveyed to headquarters in the Kennedy House, near the bottom of the Broadway, he told his story, whereupon witnesses to his ident.i.ty were easily found, and, Captain Falconer having been brought to confront him, he was released from bodily custody. He must have had a private interview with Falconer, and, perhaps, obtained money from him, before he came to the Faringfield house to vent his disappointment upon Madge. Or else he had got money from some other source; he may have gambled with what part of his pay he received in the early campaigns. He may, on some occasion, have safely violated Was.h.i.+ngton's orders against private robbery under the cover of war. He may have had secret dealings with the ”Skinners” or other unattached marauders. In any case, his a.s.sured manner of offering Madge a pa.s.sage to England with him, showed that he possessed the necessary means.

He had instantly recognised a critical moment of Madge's life, the moment when she found herself suddenly deprived of all resource but a friendly hospitality which she was too proud to make long use of, as a heaven-sent occasion for his ends. At another time, he would not have thought of making Madge his partner in an enterprise like the Irishman's--he feared her too much, and was too sensible of her dislike and contempt.

He set forth his scheme to her the next day, taking her acquiescence for granted. She listened quietly, without expressing her thoughts; but she neither consented nor refused. Ned, however, made full arrangements for their voyage; considering it the crowning G.o.dsend of a providential situation, that a vessel was so soon to make the trip, notwithstanding the unlikely time of year. When Margaret's things were brought over to our house, he advised her to begin packing at once, and he even busied himself in procuring additional trunks from his mother and mine, that she might be able to take all her gowns to London. The importance of this, and of leaving none of her jewelry behind, he most earnestly impressed upon her.

Yet she did not immediately set about packing, Ned probably had moments of misgiving, and of secret cursing, when he feared he might be reckoning without his host. The rest of us, at the time, knew nothing of what pa.s.sed between the two: he pretended that the extra trunks were for some mysterious baggage of his own: nor did we then know what pa.s.sed between her and Captain Falconer late in the day, and upon which, indeed, her decision regarding Ned's offer depended.

She had watched at our window for the captain's pa.s.sing. When at length he appeared, she was standing so close to the gla.s.s, her eyes so unmistakably met his side-look, that he could not pretend he had not seen her. As he bowed with most respectful civility, she beckoned him with a single movement of a finger, and went, herself, to let him in. When he had followed her into our parlour, his manner was outwardly of the most delicate consideration, but she thought she saw beneath it a certain uneasiness. They spoke awhile of her removal from her father's house; but he avoided question as to its cause, or as to her intentions. At last, she said directly, with a.s.sumed lightness:

”I think of going to London with my brother, on the _Phoebe_.”

She was watching him closely: his face brightened wonderfully.

”I vow, you could do nothing better,” he said. ”_There_ is _your_ world. I've always declared you were a stranger in this far-off land.

'Tis time you found your proper element. I can't help confessing it; 'tis due to you I should confess it--though alas for us whom you leave in New York!”

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