Part 20 (1/2)
”Not much,” evasively. ”Who was the one you mention?”
”My! but he was a prime skater; how he and Betty used to fly over Collect Pond that winter. Do you skate up in Litchfield, Moppet?”
”Yes, of course; that's where Betty learned with Oliver.”
”Oh, aye, I remember; when she cut a face on the ice the day she raced with Captain Yorke she told me her brother had taught her.”
At this moment there was sound of a distant bugle; both children ran down to the foot of the steps and gazed eagerly up the street. But it was a false alarm, and after a few moments spent in fruitless watching they returned to their post of observation on the stoop.
”Peter,” began Moppet presently, with true feminine persistency, ”what were you saying about a British officer who knew Betty?”
”Captain Yorke? He was aide to Sir Henry Clinton.”
”Was he? Will he go off to-day with all the other redcoats?”
”He sailed away to England some months ago,--I recollect he came to bid good-by to Clarissa,--but do you know, Moppet,” lowering his voice, with a glance over his shoulder to be certain that he was not overheard, ”I think I saw him two days ago.”
”In New York?” said Moppet, with a start. ”Why you said he'd gone to England.”
”But he could come back, surely. Moppet, _I_ think he was proper fond of Betty.”
”Peter Provoost, do you fancy that my sister would smile on a scarlet coat? You ought to be ashamed of yourself,” and Moppet looked the picture of virtuous indignation.
”Well, I've seen her do it,” retorted Peter, not in the least abashed, ”and what's more I heard him call her 'sweetheart' once.”
”Oh, Peter!” Moppet's curiosity very nearly got the better of her discretion; but she halted in time, and bit her tongue to keep it silent.
”And if you won't tell--promise?”--Moppet nodded--”not a word, mind, even to Betty--where do you think I saw Captain Yorke the other day?
You'll never guess;--it was at Fraunces's Tavern on Broad Street, and he was in earnest conversation with General Wolcott.”
”With my father?” This time Moppet's astonishment was real, and Peter chuckled at his success in news-telling.
”Children,” called a voice from the hall, ”where are you? Do you want to come with me on an errand for Clarissa near Bowling Green, which must be done before the streets are full of the troops?”
”Surely,” cried both voices, as Peter dashed in one direction after his c.o.c.ked hat, and Miss Moppet flew in another for the blue hood. Betty waited until the pair returned, laughing and panting, and then taking a hand of each she proceeded up Wall Street to Broadway, and down that thoroughfare toward Bowling Green. Before they had quite reached their destination the sound of bugle and trumpet made them turn about, and Peter suggested that they should mount a convenient pair of steps in front of a large white house, which had apparently been closed by its owners, for a number of bystanders were already posted there. They were just in time, for around the corner of William Street came a group of officers on horseback, their scarlet uniforms glittering in the sun. It was Sir Guy Carleton and his staff, on their way to the Battery, where they would take boats and be rowed over to a man-of-war which awaited them in the bay. A murmur, then louder sounds of disapprobation, started up from the street.
”There they go!” cried a voice, ”and good riddance to Hessians and Tories.”
Betty's cheeks flushed. Oh, those hateful scarlet coats, symbols of what had caused her so much misery. And yet--with another and deeper wave of color--it was Geoffrey's uniform and these were his brother officers, going where they would see him; oh, why, why, was fate so unkind, and life so hard! Another moment and they were out of sight, but keen-eyed Moppet caught a glimpse of Betty's downcast face and said to herself, ”Oh, I dare not tell her; I wish I did.”
Out on Bowery Lane and away up in Harlem, over King's Bridge, with measured step and triumphant hearts the Continentals were entering the city. What a procession was that, with General Was.h.i.+ngton and Governor Clinton at its head, and how all loyal New York spread its banners to the wind and shouted loud and long to welcome it! There were the picked men of the army, the heroes of an hundred fights, the men of Ma.s.sachusetts who had been at Lexington and Bunker Hill; General Knox in command, and General Wolcott with his Connecticut Rangers, while Oliver rode proudly at the head of his company. It was a slow march, down the Bowery and through Chatham and Queen streets to Wall, thence up to Broadway, where the column halted.
It would be vain to describe Betty's emotion as from the windows of the Verplanck mansion she watched the troops and the civil concourse, and realized that at last, after long years of heroic endurance, of gallant fighting, of many privations, the freedom of the Colonies was an accomplished fact. Miss Moppet and Peter flew from one window to another and cheered and shouted to their hearts' content. Even Grandma Effingham and Clarissa waved their handkerchiefs, while Gulian, on the doorstep, raised his c.o.c.ked hat in courtly salute to General Was.h.i.+ngton. Gulian was beginning to learn that perhaps one might find something to be proud of in America, even if we were lacking in the rank and t.i.tles he so admired.
Oliver's wedding, which was set for six o'clock, to allow the commander-in-chief to be present before the banquet at Fraunces's Tavern, was to be on as grand a scale as Madam Cruger's ideas could make it; for having consented to her daughter's marriage, that stately dame proposed to yield in her most gracious fas.h.i.+on. It took some time to dress Miss Moppet in the silken petticoat and puffed skirt, the tiny mobcap and white ribbons, which Kitty had considered proper for the occasion, and Betty found she must hasten her own toilet, or be late herself. Moppet followed her up to the old room where Betty had spent so many hours of varied experience, and a.s.sisted to spread out once again the flowered brocade, which had not seen the light of day since the De Lancey ball.