Part 21 (1/2)

Sally had raised her eyes in surprise, but said ”Thank you,” and was hurrying on when the soldier suddenly exclaimed ”Ah! ah!” as if surprised at the beauty of the young face, and had no mind to let the maid escape so easily.

”There are many abroad to-night,” he said, with a strange way of calling his words, ”and it might be convenient to have a friend near; would ma'selle permit me to walk beside her?”

But Sally, with all her shyness at times, was no coward, and she very well knew that the British soldier and a stranger should not seek to walk with her. So she replied, in a low voice but with a fine, maidenly air:

”My home is at the parson's close by. I have no fear, nor is there need that any one should walk with me;” and she raised her eyes part way to his face.

The soldier said ”Ah!” again, but this time with so great a note of surprise that Sally looked him full in the face, and lo! it was not a young man at all that she saw, but a tall, handsome man with thick moustaches that were going gray.

Now neither Englishmen nor Americans wore moustaches in those days. A beard or side-whiskers were often worn, but Sally had never before seen a man with long moustaches that swept his smooth cheek.

But it was not the brave, distinguished look of the soldier that made Sally pause for an instant with her eyes on his face. Some dim memory was stirred at sight of him. As she dropped her eyes the soldier said, in a gentle voice:

”Would not young ma'selle tell her name? I bear myself a name both true and tried, one of which never to be ashamed. I would know what name ma'selle is called by.”

Sally was quick of thought.

”Parson Kendall might better tell my name,” she said. ”Oh, and here comes Mammy!”

And making excuse to dart away, Sally hastened forward at sight of Mammy Leezer, who had come along at the right moment.

Mammy was out in great glory. A gay bandanna, really a handkerchief of red silk with yellow dots, was made up into a gay turban, with rabbit's ears that stood erect just over the middle of her forehead.

Another gay kerchief was crossed over her ample bosom, and her skirt of white cotton with a red stripe stood out stiff with starch, making Mammy look much like a sailing balloon as she came slowly along.

”What dat sojer man sayin' to you, honey?” she asked, as Sally flew up to her in a way to do her affectionate old heart good.

”Nothing much,” said Sally. ”I dropped some leaves and he picked them up for me, but I didn't want him stepping beside me, so I ran up to you.”

”Which am de proper ting to do,” said Mammy, with dignity. ”Doan't you let none of dem Britishers go sparkin' yo' pritty face, honey, nor doan't you be a bit 'fraid o' dem, neder. I nebber was 'fraid ob de face of clay, and dar doan't no sojers make eyes at me when I goes out walkin' ov an evening.”

Sally wanted to laugh at the pompous air with which Mammy stalked along, much like an old dragoon, she thought, for the soft spring weather had helped her rheumatism, and she could get along with considerable comfort.

But the road forked, and Mammy went off toward Ingleside, while Sally went on to the parson's.

She had reached the gate, and was startled as she began going up the gravelled walk to hear a soft voice beside her say:

”Allow me, ma'selle,” and the tall soldier's sword grated on the walk, as, bending low, he put a card in the curve of her arm. Then lifting his hat gay with gold lace high above his head, he said, with his gentle accent, ”Au revoir, ma'selle.” And he was gone.

”He is French,” said Sally, ”for he said 'Au revoir, ma'selle,' and that means 'adieu, or good-by, mademoiselle, until we meet again.'”

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE BREAKING OF THE STORM

Peace was at an end. The smell of war was in the air. May had dawned, hot, sweet, and full of the jangle of many tongues. Strange, wild things were happening, and so swiftly that hardly could men sleep, so fierce were they for news.

Lord Dunmore, Virginia's governor, was looked upon as an enemy, false and dangerous. Besides trying to take from the people all their gunpowder, it was found that he had tried to stir up the Indians to make one of their cruel attacks upon the people. Soon after this he left Williamsburg not to return.