Part 3 (1/2)
”Will you not bring the gentleman in, Oliver?” she said. ”The thanks which are his due can hardly be well spoken on our doorstep,” and Betty drew herself up, and waved her hand like the proud little maid she was, her eyes sparkling, her breast heaving with the excitement she strove to suppress.
Oliver looked from Moppet to Betty, in bewilderment then back at his prisoner, who seemed the most unconcerned of the group.
”You are right, Betty,” said Miss Euphemia, beginning to understand the situation. ”Will you walk in, sir, and let me explain to my nephew how greatly we are indebted to you?” And she led the way into the mansion, the others following, and opened the door of the parlor on the left, Reuben, obedient to a sign from Oliver, remaining with Miss Bidwell in the hall.
The stranger declined the chair which Oliver courteously offered him, and remained standing near Betty, Moppet clinging to his hand and looking up gratefully into his face while Miss Euphemia related to her nephew the story of Moppet's rescue from her perilous accident of the previous day.
”A brave deed!” cried Oliver impetuously, as he advanced with outstretched hand toward his prisoner, ”and with all my heart, sir, I thank you. Forgive my pettish speech of a moment since; you were right to reprove me. No one appreciates a gallant foe more than I; and though the fortune of war has to-day made you my prisoner, to-morrow may make me yours.”
”I thank you,” said the stranger, giving his hand as frankly in return.
”Believe me, my plunge in the pond was hardly worth the stress you are kind enough to lay upon it, and but for the mischance to my little friend here,” smiling at Miss Moppet, who regarded him with affectionate eyes, ”is an affair of little moment. May I ask where you will bestow me for the night, and also the privilege of a dip in cold water, as I am too soiled and travel-worn to sit in the presence of ladies, even though your prisoner.”
”Prisoner!” echoed Betty, with a start. ”Surely, Oliver, you will not hold as a prisoner the man who saved our little Moppet's life, and that, too (though he makes so light of it) at the risk of his own?”
”You will let him go free, brother Oliver,” cried Moppet, flying to the young officer's side; ”you surely will not clap him into jail?”
”It was my purpose,” said Oliver, looking from one to the other, ”to confine you until to-morrow and then carry you to headquarters, where General Putnam will determine your ultimate fate. I certainly recognize you as the author of this cut on my head. Do you belong to the British army or are you a volunteer accompanying Tryon in his raid upon our innocent and unoffending neighbors at Fairfield?”
”Sir,” said the other haughtily, ”I pardon much to your youthful patriotism, which looks upon us as invaders. My name is Geoffrey Yorke, and I have the honor to bear his majesty's commission as captain in the Sixty-fourth Regiment of Foot.”
Betty gave a faint exclamation. Oliver Wolcott stepped forward.
”Captain Yorke,” he said, ”I regret more than I can say my inability, which you yourself will recognize, to bid you go forth free and in safety. My duty is unfortunately but too plain. I, sir, serve the Continental Congress, and like you hold a captain's commission. I should be false alike to my country and my oath of allegiance did I permit you to escape; but there is one favor I can offer you; give me your parole, and allow me and my family the pleasure of holding you as a guest, not prisoner, while under our roof.”
Geoffrey Yorke hesitated; he opened his lips to speak, when some instinct made him glance at Betty, who stood directly behind her brother. Her large, soft eyes were fixed on his with most beseeching warning, and she raised her dainty finger to her lips as she slowly, almost imperceptibly, shook her head.
”Captain Wolcott,” he said, ”I fully appreciate your kindness and the motive which prompts it. I have landed on these sh.o.r.es but one short month ago, and Sir Henry Clinton ordered me--but these particulars will not interest you. I thank you for your offer, but I decline to take parole, and prefer instead the fortunes of war.”
”Then, sir, I have no choice,” said Oliver. ”Aunt Euphemia, will you permit me to use the north chamber? I will conduct you there, Captain Yorke, and shall see that you are well guarded for the night.” And with a courtly bow to the ladies Geoffrey Yorke followed his captain from the room, as Moppet threw herself into Betty's arms and sobbed bitterly.
CHAPTER IV
FRIEND OR FOE
Betty Wolcott sat alone in her own room, thinking intently. The windows were all open, and the soft night air blew the dainty curls off her white forehead and disclosed the fact of her very recent tears. Never, in all her short, happy life, had Betty been so moved as now, for the twin pa.s.sions of grat.i.tude and loyalty were at war within her, and she realized, with a feeling akin to dismay, that she must meet the responsibility alone, that those of her household were all arrayed against her.
”If my father were but at home,” said Betty to herself, ”he would know and understand, but Oliver will not listen, no, not even when I implored him to keep Captain Yorke close prisoner here for two days by which time my father is sure to arrive. Aunt Euphemia is too timid and Pamela is much the same; as Josiah happens to agree perfectly with Oliver, Pamela could never be induced to see how cruel it is to repay our debt in this way. Oliver is but a boy,”--and Betty's lips curved in scorn over her brother's four years' seniority,--”and--and--oh! I am, indeed, astray.
What, here I am, one of the loyal Wolcotts,--a family known all through the land as true to the cause of Freedom and the Declaration,--and here I sit planning how to let a British officer, foe to my country, escape from my father's house. I wonder the walls do not open and fall on me,”
and poor Betty gazed half fearfully overhead, as if she expected the rafters would descend upon the author of such treasonable sentiments.
”But something must be done,” she thought rapidly. ”I care not whether he be friend or foe, I take the consequences; be mine the blame,” and she lifted her pretty head with an air of determination, as a soft knock fell upon her chamber door; but before she could rise to open it, the latch was raised and a little figure, all in white, crept inside.
”I can't sleep, Betty,” sobbed Moppet, as her sister gathered the child in her arms; ”it's too, too dreadful. Will General Putnam hang my dear, kind gentleman as the British hanged Captain Nathan Hale, and shall we never, never see him more?”
”Dear heart,” said Betty, smoothing the yellow hair, and tears springing again to her eyes as she thought of the brave, manly face of her country's foe. ”No, Moppet, Captain Yorke is not a spy, as, alas! was poor Nathan Hale, but”--
”Betty,” whispered Moppet, so low that she was evidently alarmed at her own daring, ”why can't we let him go free and never tell Oliver a word about it?”