There was a lone rider. The piercing dampness and the growing fury of the east wind undoubtedly foreshadowed a storm, which, as often happens here, sometimes lasts for several days. But in vain the rider peered into the darkness with a keen eye, wishing to find a suitable shelter for himself, where he could hide from the rain, which had already begun to merge with the thick evening fog. He came across only wretched houses of people of low rank, and, taking into account the immediate proximity of the troops, he considered it unreasonable and even dangerous to stop in any of them.
After the British took possession of New York Island, the territory of West Chester County became a no man's land, and until the very end of the American people's war for independence, both warring parties operated here. A significant number of the inhabitants, whether because of kinship affections or out of fear, contrary to their feelings and sympathies, adhered to neutrality. The southern cities, as a rule, submitted to the royal authority, while the inhabitants of the northern cities, finding support in the proximity of the continental troops, boldly defended their revolutionary views and the right to self-government. Many, however, wore a mask that had not yet been thrown off by this time; and not one person went down to the grave with the shameful stigma of an enemy of the legitimate rights of his compatriots, although he was secretly a useful agent of the leaders of the revolution; on the other hand, if one were to open the secret boxes of some of the fiery patriots, one could pull out into the light of day the royal safe-conducts hidden under British gold coins.
Hearing the clatter of the hooves of a noble horse, every farmer woman, whose dwelling was passed by a traveler, timidly opened the door to look at the stranger, and, perhaps turning back, reported the results of her observations to her husband, who was standing in the back of the house ready to flee to the neighboring forest, where he usually hid when he was in danger. The valley was located about in the middle of the county, quite close to both armies, so it often happened that the one who had been robbed by one side received back his property from the other. True, he was not always returned his own good; the victim was sometimes compensated for the damage he had suffered, even with a surplus for the use of his property. However, in this area, the law was violated every now and then, and decisions were made to please the interests and passions of those who were stronger. The appearance of a somewhat suspicious-looking stranger on horseback, although without a military harness, but still proud and stately, like his rider, aroused many conjectures among the inhabitants of the neighboring farms who stared at them; in other cases, in people with a troubled conscience, and considerable anxiety.
Exhausted by an unusually difficult day, the rider was eager to quickly hide from the storm, which raged more and more, and now, when it suddenly poured large drops of slanting rain, he decided to ask for shelter in the first available housing. He didn't have to wait long; riding through the rickety gate, without dismounting from his saddle, he knocked loudly at the front door of a very unprepossessing house. In response to the knock, a middle-aged woman appeared, whose appearance was as uninviting as her dwelling. Seeing a rider at the threshold, illuminated by the bright light of a blazing hearth, the woman recoiled in fright and half closed the door; when she asked the visitor what he wanted, fear was reflected on her face, along with curiosity.
Although the half-closed door did not allow the traveler to see properly the decoration of the room, yet what he noticed made him again fix his gaze into the darkness in the hope of finding a more friendly shelter; however, with difficulty hiding his disgust, he asked to be given shelter. The woman listened with obvious displeasure and interrupted him before he could finish his sentence.
“I won’t say that I willingly let strangers into the house: the times are troubled now,” she said in a cheeky, sharp voice. “I am a poor lonely woman. Only the old master is at home, and what good is he! About half a mile away, further down the road, there is a manor, where you will be received and not even asked for money. I'm sure it will be much more convenient for them, and more pleasant for me - because Harvey is not at home. I would like him to listen to good advice and stop wandering; he now has a decent amount of money, it’s time for him to come to his senses and live like other people of his age and prosperity. But Harvey Birch does things his own way and will eventually die a tramp!
The rider didn't listen anymore. Following the advice to go further along the road, he slowly turned his horse towards the gate, pulled the skirts of his wide cloak tighter, preparing to set off again into the storm, but the last words of the woman stopped him.
“So this is where Harvey Birch lives?” - he involuntarily escaped, but he restrained himself and did not add anything more.
“You can’t say that he lives here,” the woman answered, and, quickly taking a breath, she continued:
“He hardly comes here, and if he does, it is so rare that I hardly recognize him when he deigns to show himself to his poor old father and me. Of course, I don't care if he ever comes home ... So the first gate on the left ... Well, I don't care if Harvey ever comes here or not ... - And she slammed the door in front of the rider, who was glad to drive another half mile to a more suitable and more secure home.
It was still quite light, and the traveler saw that the ground around the building to which he drove up was well cultivated. It was a long low stone house with two small outbuildings. A veranda stretching along the entire length of the facade with neatly carved wooden pillars, the good condition of the fence and outbuildings - all this favorably distinguished the estate from simple neighboring farms. The rider put the horse around the corner of the house in order to at least protect it from rain and wind, threw his travel bag over his arm and knocked on the door. Soon an old negro appeared; apparently not considering it necessary to report to his masters about the visitor, the servant let him in, first looking around with curiosity by the light of the candle he held in his hand. The negro led the traveler into a wonderfully comfortable living room, where a fireplace was burning, so pleasant on a gloomy October evening, when the east wind was raging. The stranger gave the bag to a caring servant, politely asked the old gentleman, who rose to meet him, to give him shelter, bowed to the three ladies who were engaged in needlework, and began to free himself from outer clothing.
He removed the scarf from his neck, then the cloak of blue cloth, and before the attentive gaze of the members of the family circle appeared a tall, extremely well-built man of about fifty. His features expressed the feeling dignity and restraint; he had a straight nose, close in type to the Greek; calm gray eyes looked thoughtfully, even, perhaps, sadly; mouth and chin spoke of courage and strong character. His traveling attire was simple and modest, but his compatriots from the upper strata of society dressed like that; he did not have a wig on, and he combed his hair like a military man, and in a slender, surprisingly well-formed figure, a military bearing showed. The stranger's appearance was so impressive, and so obviously a gentleman in him, that when he took off his excess clothes, the ladies half rose and, together with the owner of the house, once again bowed to him in response to the greeting with which he addressed them again.
James Fenimore Cooper
The Spy, or the Tale of no man's land
His face, keeping calm.
It hid the heat of the soul and secret fervor.
And in order not to give out this fire,
His cold mind was not more guarded, -
So the flame of Etna fades in the light of day
Thomas Campbell, "Gertrude of Wyoming"
One evening, towards the end of 1780, a lone rider rode through one of the many small valleys of West Chester County. The piercing dampness and the growing fury of the east wind undoubtedly foreshadowed a storm, which, as often happens here, sometimes lasts for several days. But in vain the rider peered into the darkness with a keen eye, wishing to find a suitable shelter for himself, where he could hide from the rain, which had already begun to merge with the thick evening fog. He came across only wretched houses of people of low rank, and, taking into account the immediate proximity of the troops, he considered it unreasonable and even dangerous to stop in any of them.
After the British took possession of New York Island, the territory of West Chester County became a no man's land, and until the very end of the American people's war for independence, both warring parties operated here. A significant number of the inhabitants - whether due to family affections, or out of fear - contrary to their feelings and sympathies, adhered to neutrality. The southern cities, as a rule, submitted to the royal authority, while the inhabitants of the northern cities, finding support in the proximity of the continental troops, boldly defended their revolutionary views and the right to self-government. Many, however, wore a mask that had not yet been thrown off by this time; and not one person went down to the grave with the shameful stigma of an enemy of the legitimate rights of his compatriots, although he was secretly a useful agent of the leaders of the revolution; on the other hand, if one were to open the secret boxes of some of the ardent patriots, one could pull out the royal safe-conduct hidden under British gold coins.
Hearing the clatter of the hooves of a noble horse, every farmer woman, whose dwelling was passed by a traveler, timidly opened the door to look at the stranger, and, perhaps turning back, reported the results of her observations to her husband, who was standing in the back of the house ready to flee to the neighboring forest, where he usually hid when he was in danger. The valley was located about in the middle of the county, quite close to both armies, so it often happened that the one who had been robbed by one side received back his property from the other. True, he was not always returned his own good; the victim was sometimes compensated for the damage he had suffered, even with a surplus for the use of his property. However, in this area, the law was violated every now and then, and decisions were made to please the interests and passions of those who were stronger. The appearance of a somewhat suspicious-looking stranger on horseback, although without military harness, but still proud and stately, like his rider, caused many guesses among the inhabitants of the surrounding farms who stared at them; in other cases, in people with a troubled conscience, - and considerable anxiety.
Exhausted by an unusually difficult day, the rider was eager to quickly hide from the storm, which raged more and more, and now, when it suddenly poured large drops of slanting rain, he decided to ask for shelter in the first available housing. He didn't have to wait long; riding through the rickety gate, without dismounting from his saddle, he knocked loudly at the front door of a very unprepossessing house. In response to the knock, a middle-aged woman appeared, whose appearance was as uninviting as her dwelling. Seeing a rider at the threshold, illuminated by the bright light of a blazing hearth, the woman recoiled in fright and half closed the door; when she asked the visitor what he wanted, fear was reflected on her face, along with curiosity.
Although the half-closed door did not allow the traveler to see properly the decoration of the room, yet what he noticed made him again fix his gaze into the darkness in the hope of finding a more friendly shelter; however, with difficulty hiding his disgust, he asked to be given shelter. The woman listened with obvious displeasure and interrupted him before he could finish his sentence.
I can’t say that I willingly let strangers into the house: the times are troubled now, ”she said in a cheeky, harsh voice. I am a poor lonely woman. Only the old master is at home, and what good is he! About half a mile away, further down the road, there is a manor, where you will be received and not even asked for money. I'm sure it will be much more convenient for them, and more pleasant for me - because Harvey is not at home. I would like him to listen to good advice and ask him to wander; he now has a decent amount of money, it’s time for him to come to his senses and live like other people of his age and prosperity. But Harvey Birch does things his own way and will eventually die a tramp!
The rider didn't listen anymore. Following the advice to go further along the road, he slowly turned his horse towards the gate, pulled the skirts of his wide cloak tighter, preparing to set off again into the storm, but the last words of the woman stopped him.
So this is where Harvey Birch lives? - involuntarily escaped from him, but he restrained himself and did not add anything more.
It cannot be said that he lives here, - the woman answered, and, quickly taking a breath, she continued:
He hardly comes here, and if he does, it is so rare that I hardly recognize him when he deigns to show his poor old father and me. Of course, I don’t care if he ever comes home… So, the first gate on the left… Well, I don’t care if Harvey ever comes here or not…” And she slammed the door on the horseman, who was glad to drive another half mile to a more suitable and more secure home.
It was still quite light, and the traveler saw that the ground around the building to which he drove up was well cultivated. It was a long low stone house with two small outbuildings. A veranda stretching the entire length of the facade with neatly carved wooden pillars, the good condition of the fence and outbuildings - all this favorably distinguished the estate from simple neighboring farms. The rider put the horse around the corner of the house in order to at least protect it from rain and wind, threw his travel bag over his arm and knocked on the door. Soon an old negro appeared; apparently not considering it necessary to report to his masters about the visitor, the servant let him in, first looking around with curiosity by the light of the candle he held in his hand. The negro led the traveler into a wonderfully comfortable living room, where a fireplace was burning, so pleasant on a gloomy October evening, when the east wind was raging. The stranger gave the bag to a caring servant, politely asked the old gentleman, who rose to meet him, to give him shelter, bowed to the three ladies who were engaged in needlework, and began to free himself from outer clothing.
He removed the scarf from his neck, then the cloak of blue cloth, and before the attentive gaze of the members of the family circle appeared a tall, extremely well-built man of about fifty. His features expressed self-respect and restraint; he had a straight nose, close in type to the Greek; calm gray eyes looked thoughtfully, even, perhaps, sadly; mouth and chin spoke of courage and strong character. His traveling attire was simple and modest, but his compatriots from the upper strata of society dressed like that; he did not have a wig on, and he combed his hair like a military man, and in a slender, surprisingly well-formed figure, a military bearing showed. The stranger's appearance was so impressive, and so obviously a gentleman in him, that when he took off his excess clothes, the ladies half rose and, together with the owner of the house, once again bowed to him in response to the greeting with which he addressed them again.
The owner of the house was several years older than the traveler; his demeanor, dress, environment- everything said that he had seen the light and belonged to the highest circle. The ladies' company consisted of an unmarried lady in her forties and two young girls at least half her age. The colors had faded from the older lady's face, but her lovely eyes and hair made her very attractive; She was also charmed by her sweet, friendly manner, which many younger women by no means always can boast of. The sisters - the resemblance between the girls testified to their close relationship - were in the full bloom of youth; blush - an inherent property of the West Chester beauty, reddened on their cheeks, and deep Blue eyes shone with that brilliance that captivates the observer and speaks eloquently of spiritual purity and peace.
All three ladies were distinguished by the femininity and grace inherent in the weaker sex of this region, and their manners showed that they, like the owner of the house, belonged to high society.
Mr. Wharton, for that was the name of the owner of a secluded estate, brought a glass of excellent Madeira to his guest and, having poured a glass for himself, sat down again by the fireplace. For a minute he was silent, as if considering whether he would violate the rules of politeness by asking a similar question to a stranger, finally, glancing at him with a searching look, he asked:
To whose health do I have the honor to drink? The traveler also sat down; when Mr. Wharton uttered these words, he absentmindedly looked into the fireplace, then, turning an inquisitive look at the owner of the house, answered with a slight flush in his face:
My last name is Harper.
Mr. Harper,” continued the host with the ceremony of the time, “I have the honor to drink to your health, and hope that the rain has not harmed you.
Mr. Harper bowed silently in response to the courtesy, and again fell into thought, which seemed quite understandable and excusable after a long journey through such bad weather.
The girls sat back down at their hoops, and their aunt, Miss Janet Peyton, came out to supervise the preparations for the unexpected guest's supper. There was a short silence; Mr. Harper seemed to be enjoying the warmth and peace, but the host again broke the silence by asking the guest if the smoke would disturb him; having received a negative answer, Mr. Wharton immediately took up the pipe, which he put down when the stranger appeared.
The owner of the house clearly wanted to start a conversation, however, either out of fear of stepping on slippery ground, or not wanting to break the obviously deliberate silence of the guest, he did not dare to speak for a long time. At last he was encouraged by the movement of Mr. Harper, who glanced in the direction where the sisters were sitting.
Now it has become very difficult,” remarked Mr. Wharton, to begin with carefully bypassing the subjects he would like to touch on, “to get tobacco, which I used to indulge myself in the evenings.
I thought the New York shops got you the best tobacco,” said Mr. Harper calmly.
Well, yes, of course, - Mr. Wharton answered uncertainly and looked at the guest, but immediately lowered his eyes, meeting his firm gaze. “New York is probably full of tobacco, but in this war, any, even the most innocent, connection with the city is too dangerous to risk over such a trifle.
The snuff-box from which Mr. Wharton had just filled his pipe stood open almost at Mr. Harper's elbow; he automatically took a pinch from it and tasted it on his tongue, but Mr. Wharton was alarmed. Without saying anything about the quality of the tobacco, the guest fell into thought again, and the host calmed down. Now that he had made some progress, Mr. Wharton did not want to retreat, and, making an effort on himself, continued:
I wish from the bottom of my heart that this unholy war ends and that we can again meet friends and loved ones in peace and love.
Yes, I would very much like to,” Mr. Harper said expressively, and again looked up at the owner of the house.
I have not heard of any significant troop movements since the arrival of our new allies,” remarked Mr. Wharton; knocking out the ashes from the pipe, he turned his back to the guest, as if in order to take a piece of coal from the hands of his youngest daughter.
Apparently, this has not yet become widely known.
So, it must be assumed that some serious steps will be taken? asked Mr. Wharton, still leaning towards his daughter and unconsciously hesitating to light his pipe while waiting for an answer.
Are they talking about anything specific?
Oh no, nothing in particular; however, from such powerful forces as Rochambeau commands, it is natural to expect something.
Mr. Harper nodded his head in agreement, but said nothing, and Mr. Wharton, lighting his pipe, continued:
There must be more decisive action in the South, Gates and Cornwallis there, apparently, want to end the war.
Mr. Harper wrinkled his brow, and a shadow of deep sadness flickered across his face; eyes for a moment lit up with fire, revealing a strong hidden feeling. The admiring glance of the younger sister barely had time to catch this expression, as it had already disappeared; the stranger's face became again calm and dignified, indisputably showing that his reason prevailed over his feelings.
The older sister rose from her chair and exclaimed triumphantly:
General Gates was as unlucky with the Earl of Cornwallis as he was with General Burgoyne.
But General Gates is not an Englishman, Sarah, the younger lady hastened to protest; embarrassed by her boldness, she blushed to the roots of her hair and began to rummage through the working basket, secretly hoping that no one paid attention to her words.
While the girls were talking, the guest looked first at one, then at the other; a barely perceptible twitch of his lips betrayed his emotional excitement when he jokingly turned to the youngest of the sisters:
And may I know what conclusion you draw from this?
When Francis was directly asked for her opinion on a question carelessly raised in front of a stranger, she blushed even deeper, but the answer was expected, and the girl, a little stammering, hesitantly said:
It's just... just, sir... my sister and I sometimes disagree on the prowess of the English.
A sly smile played on her childishly innocent face.
What exactly is causing you disagreement? asked Mr. Harper, answering her lively gaze with an almost paternally gentle smile.
Sarah thinks that the British never fail, and I don't really believe in their invincibility.
The traveler listened to the girl with that gentle indulgence with which noble old age treats ardent naive youth, but said nothing and, turning to the fireplace, again fixed his eyes on the smoldering coals.
Mr. Wharton tried in vain to penetrate the mystery of the visitor's political views. Although Mr. Harper did not seem gloomy, he did not show sociability either, on the contrary, he struck with his reticence; when the owner of the house got up to escort Mr. Harper to the table in the next room, he knew absolutely nothing of what was so important to know about a stranger in those days. Mr. Harper offered his hand to Sarah Wharton, and together they entered the dining-room; Frances followed them, wondering if she had hurt the feelings of her father's guest.
The storm blew even stronger, and the pouring rain lashing against the walls of the house awakened an inexplicable feeling of joy, which in inclement weather one feels in a warm, comfortable room. Suddenly, a sharp knock on the door again called the faithful Negro servant into the hall. A minute later he returned and reported to Mr. Wharton that another traveler caught in a storm asked for shelter for the night.
As soon as the newcomer knocked impatiently on the door, Mr. Wharton got up with evident anxiety; he glanced quickly from Mr. Harper to the door, as if expecting something connected with the first to follow the appearance of the second stranger. He had scarcely had time in a weak voice to order the servant to bring in the traveler, when the door swung wide open, and he himself entered the room. Noticing Mr. Harper, the traveler hesitated for a moment, then somewhat ceremoniously repeated his request, which he had just conveyed through the servant. Mr. Wharton and his family disliked the new visitor very much, but fearing that denial of lodging in such a violent storm might lead to trouble, the old gentleman reluctantly agreed to take in this stranger as well.
Miss Peyton ordered some more food to be served, and the weather-stricken man was invited to a table at which a small company had just supped. Throwing off his outer clothing, the stranger resolutely sat down on the chair offered to him and, with an enviable appetite, began to satisfy his hunger. However, at every sip he turned an alarming glance at Mr. Harper, who was staring at him so intently that he involuntarily felt uneasy. Finally, pouring wine into a glass, the new guest nodded meaningfully to Mr. Harper, who was watching him, and said rather caustically;
I drink to our closer acquaintance, sir. It seems that we are meeting for the first time, although your attention to me suggests that we are old acquaintances.
He must have liked the wine, for, placing an empty glass on the table, he smacked his lips all over the room and, raising the bottle, held it against the light for a few moments, silently admiring the brilliance of the transparent drink.
I don't think we've ever met," said Mr. Harper, following the movements of the new guest, with a slight smile; apparently satisfied with his observations, he turned to Sarah Wharton, who was sitting next to him, and remarked:
After the fun of city life, you must be feeling dreary in your current home?
Oh, terribly sad! Sarah answered warmly. - Like father, I want this terrible war to end soon and we meet again with our friends.
And you, Miss Frances, are as eager for peace as your sister is?
For many reasons, of course, yes, - the girl answered, stealing a shy look at Mr. Harper. Noticing the former kind expression on his face, she continued, and an intelligent smile lit up her lively features:
But not at the cost of losing the rights of my compatriots.
Right! her sister repeated indignantly. - Whose rights can be fairer than the rights of the monarch! And is there a duty more urgent than the duty to obey one who has the legal right to command?
Draws, of course, draws, - said Frances, laughing heartily; taking her sister's hand affectionately in both hands, and smiling at Mr. Harper, she added:
I have already told you that my sister and I differ in political views, but on the other hand, our father is an impartial mediator for us; he loves his countrymen too, loves the English too, and therefore takes neither my side nor his sister's side.
That’s right,” Mr. Warter observed with some concern, glancing first at the first guest, then at the second. - I have close friends in both armies, and whoever wins the war, the victory of either side will bring me only grief; therefore I am afraid of her.
As I believe, there is no particular reason to fear a victory for the Yankees, - the new guest intervened, calmly pouring himself another glass from the bottle he had chosen.
His Majesty's troops may be better trained than those of the Continent," the master of the house said timidly, "but the Americans, too, have won outstanding victories.
Mr. Harper disregarded both the first and second remarks and asked to be shown to the room allotted to him. The servant-boy was ordered to show the way, and, having politely wished everyone good night, the traveler departed. As soon as the door closed behind Mr. Harper, the knife and fork fell from the hands of the uninvited guest sitting at the table; he rose slowly, walked cautiously to the door, opened it, listened to the receding footsteps, and, ignoring the horror and amazement of the Wharton family, closed it again. The red wig that hid the black curls, the wide headband that hid half of the face, the stoop that made the guest look like a fifty-year-old man - all disappeared in an instant.
Father! Dear my father! - shouted a handsome young man, - my dear sisters and aunt! Am I finally with you?
God bless you, Henry, my son! - joyfully exclaimed the startled father.
And the girls, in tears, clung to the shoulders of their brother. The only outside witness to the sudden appearance of Mr. Wharton's son was a faithful negro who had grown up in his master's house and, as if in mockery of his position as a slave, was named Caesar. Taking the hand extended by young Wharton, he kissed it passionately, and went out. The servant boy did not return again, but Caesar entered the drawing room again, just at the moment when the young English captain asked:
But who is this Mr. Harper? Will he give me away?
No, no, Mass Harry! the Negro exclaimed with conviction, shaking his gray head. - I saw... Massa Harper was on his knees praying to God. A man who prays to God will not denounce a good son who has come to an old father... Skinner will do that, but not a Christian!
Not only Mr. Caesar Thomson, as he called himself (a few acquaintances called him Caesar Wharton), thought so badly of the Skinners. The situation that developed in the vicinity of New York forced the commanders of the American army - in order to fulfill certain plans, and also to annoy the enemy - to recruit people of obviously criminal morals. The natural consequence of the dominance of military force, which was not checked by the civil authorities, was oppression and injustice. But this was not the time to engage in serious investigation of all sorts of abuses. Thus, a certain order was developed, which generally boiled down to the fact that their own compatriots were deprived of what was considered personal wealth, hiding behind patriotism and love of freedom.
The illegal distribution of earthly goods was often condoned by the military authorities, and more than once it happened that some insignificant military official legalized the most shameless robberies, and sometimes even murders.
The British did not yawn either, especially where, under the guise of loyalty to the crown, it was possible to give themselves free rein. But these marauders joined the ranks of the English army and acted much more organized than the skipners. Long experience had shown their leaders all the advantages of organized action, and they did not deceive themselves in calculation, unless tradition exaggerated their exploits. Their detachment received the funny name "cowboy" - apparently due to the tender love of his soldiers for a useful animal - a cow.
However, Caesar was too devoted the English king, in order to unite in his view people who received ranks from George III with soldiers of the irregular army, whose atrocities he had more than once observed and from whose greed neither poverty nor the position of a slave saved him. So, Caesar did not express a well-deserved condemnation to the cowboys, but said that only a skinner was able to betray a good son who risked his life to see his father.
He knew joy quiet life with her,
But the heart, beating nearby, fell silent,
The girlfriend of young days has gone forever,
And the daughter became the only consolation.
Thomas Campbell, "Gertrude of Wyoming"
Mr Wharton's father was born in England and was younger son in a family whose parliamentary connections secured him a place in the New York colony. Like hundreds of other young Englishmen of his circle, he settled permanently in America. He married, and the only offspring of this union was sent to England to take advantage of education in the educational institutions there. When the young man graduated from the university in the metropolis, his parents gave him the opportunity to get acquainted with the delights of European life. But two years later, his father died, leaving his son a respectable name and a vast estate, and the young man returned to his homeland.
In those days, in order to make a career, young people from eminent English families joined the army or navy. Most of the high positions in the colonies were held by the military, and it was not uncommon to meet in the highest judicial bodies a veteran warrior who preferred the mantle of a judge to the sword.
Following this custom, the elder Mr. Wharton assigned his son to the army, but the indecisive nature of the young man prevented the father from fulfilling his intention.
The young man weighed and compared the superiority of one kind of troops over others for a whole year. But then my father died. Carefree life, attention, which was surrounded by the young owner of one of the largest estates in the colonies, distracted him from his ambitious plans. Love decided the matter, and when Mr. Wharton became a spouse, he no longer thought about becoming a military man. For many years he lived happily in his family, enjoying the respect of his compatriots as an honest and positive person, but all his joys suddenly came to an end. His only son, the young man we have introduced in the first chapter, joined the English army and, shortly before the outbreak of hostilities, returned to his homeland with reinforcement troops, which the British War Office saw fit to send to the rebel areas of North America. Mr. Wharton's daughters were still very young girls and lived then in New York, for only the city could give the necessary gloss to their education. His wife was sick, and her health worsened every year; she had barely had time to hug her son to her chest, rejoicing that the whole family was together, when a revolution broke out, engulfing the entire country from Georgia to Massachusetts with its flames. The sickly woman could not stand the shock and died when she learned that her son was going into battle and he would have to fight in the South with her own relatives.
There was no other place on the continent where English manners and aristocratic notions of purity of blood and origin were not so firmly rooted as in the districts adjoining New York. True, the customs of the first settlers - the Dutch - somewhat mixed with the customs of the British, but the latter prevailed. Loyalty to Great Britain became even stronger due to the frequent marriages of English officers with girls from wealthy and powerful local families, whose influence almost pushed the colony to the side of the king by the start of hostilities. However, some of the representatives of these prominent families supported the cause of the people; the stubbornness of the government was broken, and with the help of the Confederate army, an independent republican form of government was established.
Only the city of New York and the territories bordering it did not recognize the new republic, but even there the prestige of royal power was maintained only by force of arms. In this state of affairs, the supporters of the king acted differently - depending on their place in society and personal inclinations. Some, with weapons in their hands, sparing no effort, courageously defended the legitimate, as they believed, the rights of the king and tried to save their property from confiscation. Others left America to escape the vicissitudes and disasters of war in the country they pompously called their homeland, hoping, however, to return in a few months. The third, the most cautious, remained at home, not daring to leave their vast possessions, or perhaps out of affection for the places where their youth had passed. Mr. Wharton was one of these people. This gentleman protected himself from possible accidents by secretly depositing all his cash in the Bank of England; he decided not to leave the country and to strictly observe neutrality, thus hoping to preserve his possessions, no matter whose side prevailed. He seemed completely absorbed in the education of his daughters, but a relative who held an important post under the new government hinted to him that in the eyes of his compatriots, his stay in New York, which had become an English camp, was tantamount to staying in the capital of England. Mr. Wharton himself soon realized that in those conditions this was an unforgivable mistake, and decided to correct it by immediately leaving the city. At West Chester he had large estate where he went for many years for the hot months; the house was kept in in perfect order, and it was always possible to find shelter in it. Mr. Wharton's eldest daughter was already on her way, but the youngest, Frances, needed another two years of preparation to appear in society in full splendor; at any rate, so thought Miss Janet Peyton. This lady, the younger sister of Mr. Wharton's late wife, left her father's home in Virginia, and, with the devotion and love characteristic of her sex, took upon herself the care of the orphaned nieces, and therefore their father reckoned with her opinion. So he followed her advice and, sacrificing parental feelings for the good of his children, left them in the city.
Mr. Wharton went to his home of White Acacias with a broken heart - for he left those whom his adored wife had entrusted to him - but he had to heed the voice of prudence, insistently urging him not to forget his property. The daughters stayed with their aunt in a magnificent city house. The regiment in which Captain Wharton served was part of the permanent garrison of New York, and the thought that his son was in the same city as his daughters was no small comfort to his father, who was constantly worried about them. However, Captain Wharton was young and also a soldier; he often made mistakes in people, and since he placed the English very highly, he thought that a dishonorable heart could not beat under a red uniform.
Mr. Wharton's house became a place of social entertainment for the officers of the royal army, as, indeed, other houses that merited their attention. For some of those visited by the officers, these visits were beneficial, for many they were harmful, because they gave rise to unrealizable hopes, and for the majority, unfortunately, they were disastrous. The well-known wealth of the father, and perhaps the close proximity of the brave brother, relieved the fear that misfortune would happen to Mr. Wharton's young daughters; and yet it was hard to expect that the courtesy of the admirers, who admired the pretty face and slim figure Sarah Wharton left no trace in her soul. Sarah's beauty, which ripened early in a favorable climate, and her refined manners made the girl the universally recognized first beauty of the city. It seemed that Frances alone could challenge this supremacy among the women of their circle. However, Francis still lacked half a year before the magical sixteen years, besides, the thought of rivalry did not even enter the minds of the sisters affectionately attached to each other. Apart from the pleasure of chatting with Colonel Welmer, Sarah's most pleasant thing was to admire the blossoming beauty of the mocking little Hebe, who grew up next to her, enjoying life with all the innocence of youth and the ardor of a hot nature. Perhaps because Frances did not receive as many compliments as her older sister, or perhaps for another reason, but the reasoning of the officers about the nature of the war made a completely different impression on Francis than on Sarah. English officers were in the habit of speaking contemptuously of their opponents, and Sarah took the empty bluster of her cavaliers at face value. Along with the first political judgments that reached Frances, she heard ironic remarks about the behavior of her compatriots. At first she believed the words of the officers, but a general who was in Mr. Wharton's house was often forced to pay tribute to the enemy in order not to belittle his own merits, and Frances began to take with some doubt the talk of the failures of the rebels. Colonel Welmire was one of those who were especially clever in wit about the unfortunate Americans, and in time the girl listened to his rantings with great distrust, and sometimes with indignation.
One sweltering hot day Sarah and Colonel Welmire were sitting on the sofa in the drawing-room, looking at each other in their usual easy conversation; Frances was embroidering in a hoop at the other end of the room.
What fun it will be, Miss Wharton, when General Burgoyne's army enters the city! the colonel suddenly exclaimed.
Oh how wonderful it will be! - carelessly picked up Sarah. - They say that their wives go with the officers - charming ladies. That's when we'll have some fun!
Frances pushed back her luxuriant golden hair from her forehead, looked up, her eyes glittering at the thought of her homeland, and, laughing slyly, asked:
Are you sure that General Burgoyne will be allowed to enter the city?
- "Let"! said the Colonel. - And who can prevent him, my dear, Miss Fanny?
Frances was just at that age - no longer a child, but not yet an adult - when young girls are especially jealous of their position in society. The familiar "my darling" jarred her, she let her eyes in, and her cheeks flushed.
General Stark took the Germans prisoner, - she said, pursing her lips. “Will General Gates also consider the British too dangerous to be left free?”
But they were Germans, as you said, - the colonel objected, annoyed that he had to enter into explanations. - The Germans are just mercenary Troops, but when the enemy has to deal with the English regiments, the end will be completely different.
Of course, - put in Sarah, not at all sharing the colonel's displeasure with her sister, but rejoicing in advance at the victory of the British.
Would you please tell me, Colonel Welmere," said Frances, brightening up again and lifting her laughing eyes at him, "is Lord Percy, who was defeated at Lexington, not a descendant of the hero of the old ballad Chevy Chase?
Miss Fanny, you are becoming a rebel! - said the colonel, trying to hide his irritation behind a smile. - What you deigned to call the defeat at Lexington was only a tactical retreat .., sort of ...
Battles on the run ... - the brisk girl interrupted, emphasizing the last words.
Indeed, young lady...
But laughter in the next room prevented Colonel Welmir from finishing.
A gust of wind flung open the doors to a small room adjoining the living room, where the sisters and the colonel were talking. At the very entrance sat a handsome young man; one could see from his smile that the conversation gave him real pleasure. He immediately got up and, holding his hat in his hands, entered the drawing-room. He was a tall, slender young man with a swarthy face; there was still laughter in his brilliant black eyes as he bowed to the ladies.
Mr Dunwoody! Sarah exclaimed in surprise. - I didn't know you were here. Come join us, it's cooler in this room.
Thank you, - answered the young man, - but I must go, I must find your brother. Henry left me, as he put it, in ambush and promised to return in an hour.
Without going into further explanation, Dunwoody bowed politely to the girls, nodded coldly, even haughtily, to the colonel, and left the drawing room. Frances followed him into the hall, and, blushing deeply, said quickly:
But why... why are you leaving, Mr. Dunwoody? Henry should be back soon.
The young man took her by the hand. His stern expression changed to admiration as he said:
You've done him well, my dear cousin! Never, never forget your homeland! Remember: you are not only the granddaughter of an Englishman, but also the granddaughter of Peyton.
Oh,” said Frances with a laugh, “it’s not so easy to forget, because Aunt Jennet lectures us all the time on genealogy! .. But why are you leaving?
Be true to your country - be American.
The ardent girl blew a kiss to the departed and, pressing her beautiful hands to her burning cheeks, ran to her room to hide her embarrassment.
The sheer derision in Francis's words, and the young man's thinly concealed contempt, put Colonel Welmire in an awkward position; however, not wanting to show in front of the girl with whom he was in love that he attached importance to such trifles, Wellmir arrogantly said after Dunwoody left:
A very impudent youth for a man of his circle - after all, this is a clerk sent from a shop with purchases?
The idea that the dainty Peyton Dunwoody might be mistaken for a clerk could not cross Sarah's mind, and she looked at Welmir in surprise. Meanwhile the Colonel continued:
This Mr. Dan... Dan...
Dunwoody! What are you .., he is a relative of my aunt! Sara exclaimed. - And a close friend of my brother; they studied together, only parted in England, when my brother enlisted in the army, and he entered the French military academy.
That's really, probably, his parents in vain threw away the money! remarked the Colonel with an annoyance which he could not conceal.
Let's hope that in vain, - Sarah said with a smile, - they say he is going to join the rebel army. He arrived here on a French ship, and has recently been transferred to another regiment; perhaps you will soon meet him in arms.
Well, let ... I wish Washington more such heroes. - And the colonel turned the conversation to a more pleasant topic - about Sarah and about himself.
A few weeks after this scene, Burgoyne's army surrendered their weapons. Mr. Wharton had already begun to doubt the victory of the English; wanting to ingratiate himself with the Americans and please himself, he summoned his daughters from New York. Miss Peyton agreed to go with them. From that time until the events with which we began our story, they all lived together.
Henry Wharton went with the main army wherever it went. Twice, under the protection of strong detachments operating near the White Acacia estate, he secretly and briefly visited his relatives. A year had passed since he had seen them, and now the impulsive young man, transformed in the manner described above, appeared to his father on the very evening when an unfamiliar and even distrustful person found shelter in the cottage - although now in their house strangers were very rare.
So you think he didn't suspect anything? the captain asked excitedly after Caesar had given his opinion on the Skinners.
How could he suspect anything when even your sisters and father didn't recognize you! Sara exclaimed.
There is something mysterious about his behavior; an outsider, an observer does not peer at people with such attention, - thoughtfully continued young Wharton, - and his face seems familiar to me. André's execution stirred up both sides. Sir Henry threatens to avenge his death, and Washington is adamant, as if conquered half the world. Should I fall into the hands of the rebels, to my misfortune, they will not fail to use this to their advantage.
But, my son, - the father cried in alarm, - you are not a spy, you are not in the favor of the rebels, the Americans, I wanted to say .., there is nothing to find out here!
I'm not sure about that," the young man muttered. - As I was walking in disguise, I noticed that their pickets had moved south to White Plains. True, I have a harmless goal, but how to prove it? My coming here may be interpreted as a disguise that hides secret intentions. Remember, father, how you were treated last year when you sent me provisions for the winter.
Here my dear neighbors did their best, - said Mr. Wharton, - they hoped that my estate would be confiscated and they would buy up good lands cheaply. However, Peyton Dunwoody quickly secured our release - we were not kept for even a month.
Us? Henry repeated in surprise. - Were the sisters also arrested? You didn't write to me about it, Fanny.
I think,” said Frances, flushing, “I mentioned how kind our old friend Major Dunwoody was to us; after all, thanks to him, the pope was released.
It's right. But tell me, were you in the rebel camp too?
Yes, she was, - said Mr. Wharton warmly. - Fanny didn't want to let me go alone. Jennet and Sarah were left to look after the estate, and this girl was my fellow prisoner.
And Fanny returned from there even more rebellious than before, ”Sarah exclaimed indignantly,“ although “it would seem that her father’s torment should have cured her of these whims!
Well, what do you say in your defense, my beautiful sister? Henry asked cheerfully. "Didn't Peyton teach you to hate our king more than he hates him himself?"
Dunwoody doesn't hate anyone! -. Francis blurted out and, embarrassed by her vehemence, immediately added:
And he loves you, Henry, he's told me so many times.
The young man patted his sister on the cheek with a gentle smile and asked in a whisper:
Did he tell you that he loves my sister Fanny?
Nonsense! exclaimed Francis, and began to fuss about the table, from which, under her supervision, the remnants of supper were quickly removed.
Autumn wind blowing cold
I plucked the last leaves from the trees,
And slowly over Lovmansky hill
The moon floats in the silence of the night.
Leaving the bustling city, on a long journey
The peddler left alone.
The storm that the east wind blows into the mountains from where the Hudson rises rarely lasts less than two days. When the inhabitants of the White Acacia Cottage gathered for their first breakfast the next morning, they saw that the rain was beating on the panes in almost horizontal streams; of course, no one could even think of putting out the door into such bad weather not only a person, but even an animal. Mr. Harper was the last to appear; looking out of the window, he apologized to Mr. Wharton that he was forced by bad weather to abuse his hospitality for some time. The answer seemed to sound as kind as an apology, but it was felt that the guest had come to terms with the necessity, while the owner of the house was clearly embarrassed. Obeying the will of his father, Henry Wharton reluctantly, even with disgust, changed his appearance again. He returned the greeting of the stranger, who bowed to him and all the members of the family, but neither one nor the other entered into conversation. It is true that Francis fancied a smile pass over the visitor's face when he entered the room and saw Henry; but the smile flickered only in the eyes, while the face retained an expression of good nature and concentration, characteristic of Mr. Harper and seldom left him. The loving sister looked anxiously at her brother, then she looked at the stranger and met his eyes at the moment when he rendered her one of the usual petty services accepted at the table with emphasized attention. The trembling heart of the girl began to beat calmly, as much as possible with youth, blooming health and cheerfulness. Everyone was already seated at the table when Caesar entered the room; silently placing a small package in front of the host, he modestly stopped behind his chair and leaned his hand on the back, listening to the conversation.
What is it, Caesar? asked Mr. Wharton, turning the package over and examining it with some suspicion.
Tobacco, sir. Harvey Birch is back with some good tobacco from New York.
Harvey Burch! said Mr. Wharton cautiously, and glanced furtively at the stranger. - Did I instruct him to buy me tobacco? Well, if you brought it, you need to pay him for his work.
When the Negro spoke, Mr. Harper interrupted his silent meal for a moment; he slowly shifted his gaze from the servant to the master, and turned back into himself.
The news brought by the servant made Sarah Wharton very happy. She quickly got up from the table and ordered Birch to be let in, but immediately changed her mind and, looking at the guest with a guilty look, added:
Of course, if Mr. Harper doesn't mind it.
The gentle, kind expression on the face of the stranger, who silently nodded his head, was more eloquent than the longest phrases, and the young lady, imbued with confidence in him, calmly repeated her order.
There were carved chairs in the deep windows, and the splendid drapes of patterned silk, which had formerly adorned the windows of the drawing-room in the house on Queen Street, created that inexpressible atmosphere of comfort, which makes one think with pleasure of the approach of winter. Captain Wharton rushed into one of these niches and, in order to hide from prying eyes, drew the curtains behind him; his younger sister, with a restraint unexpected for her lively disposition, silently entered another niche.
Harvey Birch had been a peddler since he was young - or at least he often talked about it - and the dexterity with which he sold the swap goods confirmed his words. He was a native of one of the eastern colonies; his father was distinguished by his mental development, and this gave the neighbors reason to believe that Birchy was known in his homeland better days. However, Garvey was no different from the local commoners, except for his quick wits, as well as the fact that his actions were always shrouded in some kind of mystery. Father and son had come into the valley about ten years ago, bought that squalid little house in which Mr. Harper tried in vain to find a home, and lived quietly and peacefully, making no acquaintances and drawing no attention to themselves. As long as age and health allowed him, his father cultivated a small plot of land near the house; the son was diligently engaged in petty trade. Modesty and decency eventually earned them such respect throughout the district that one girl of about thirty-five, discarding the prejudices inherent in women, agreed to take care of them. household. The blush had long since faded from Kathy Haynes's cheeks; she saw that all her acquaintances - men and women - united in unions, so desired by her sex, but she herself almost lost hope of marriage; however, she entered the Birch family not without a secret intent. Need is a cruel ruler, and for lack of a better companion, father and son were forced to accept Cathy's services; however, she possessed qualities that made her a very tolerable housekeeper. She was clean, industrious, and honest; but she was distinguished by talkativeness, selfishness, was superstitious and unbearably curious. After serving with the Birches for about five years, she triumphantly said that she had heard - or rather, overheard - so much that she knew what a cruel fate befell her masters before moving to West Chester. If Kathy had even a little gift of foresight, she could also predict what awaited them in the future. From secret conversations between father and son, she learned that the fire had turned them into poor people and that only the two of the once large family survived. The old man's voice trembled as he remembered this misfortune, which touched even Kathy's heart. But there are no barriers in the world to base curiosity, and she continued to take an interest in other people's affairs until Harvey threatened her that he would take a younger woman in her place; hearing this formidable warning, Cathy realized that there are boundaries that should not be crossed. From that time on, the housekeeper wisely restrained her curiosity, and although she never missed an opportunity to eavesdrop, her stocks of information were replenished very slowly. Nevertheless, she managed to find out something that was of no small interest to her, and then, guided by two motives - love and greed - she set a certain goal for herself, directing all her energy to achieving it, Sometimes in the dead of night Harvey quietly crept up to the hearth in the room that served as the Birchs' living room and kitchen. It was then that Cathy tracked down her master; taking advantage of his absence and the fact that the old man was busy with something, she pulled one brick from under the hearth and stumbled upon a cast iron with a shiny metal that can soften the most callous heart. Cathy quietly put the brick back in place and never again dared to do such a careless act. However, from that moment on, the maiden's heart subsided, and Harvey did not understand what his happiness was, only because he was not observant.
The war did not prevent the pedlar from doing his job; the normal trade in the county had ceased, but that was to his advantage, and he seemed to think only of profit. For a year or two he sold his wares without hindrance, and his income grew; meanwhile, some dark rumors cast a shadow over him, and the civil authorities considered it necessary to briefly get acquainted with his way of life. The peddler was taken into custody more than once, but for a short time and rather easily eluded the guardians of civil laws; the military authorities pursued him more persistently. And yet Harvey Birch did not give up, although he was forced to exercise the greatest caution, especially when he was near the northern borders of the country, ate, in other words, near the American troops. He was not so often in the "White Acacias" anymore, and appeared in his dwelling so rarely that the annoyed Cathy, as we have already told, could not stand it and poured out her heart to a stranger. It seemed that nothing could prevent this tireless man from practicing his craft. And now, hoping to sell some goods that were in demand only in the richest houses of West Chester, he decided to walk in a fierce storm half a mile that separated his house from the estate of Mr. Wharton.
Having received the order of his young mistress. Caesar went out and a few minutes later returned with the one who had just been discussed. The peddler was taller than average, lean, but broad in bone and heavily muscled. At first glance, anyone would be surprised that he can bear the weight of his bulky burden on his back; but Birch tossed it off with surprising agility, and with as much ease as if there were lint in a bale. Birch's eyes were grey, sunken and restless; in that brief moment when they stopped on the face of the person with whom he was talking, it seemed that they pierced him through and through.
However, in his eyes one could read two different expressions that spoke of his character. When Harvey Birch sold his goods, his face became lively and intelligent, and his eyes were extremely penetrating, but as soon as the conversation turned to everyday everyday topics, Harvey's eyes became restless and distracted. If the talk turned to the revolution and America, he was completely transformed. He listened in silence for a long time, then broke the silence with some insignificant or playful remark, which seemed feigned, because it contradicted how he had behaved before. But about the war, like about his father, Harvey spoke only when he could not avoid it. A superficial observer would find that the desire for profit occupies the main place in his soul, and, given all that we know about him, it is difficult to imagine a more unsuitable object for the designs of Katie Haynes.
Entering the room, the peddler dropped his burden on the floor—the bale now reached almost to his shoulders—and greeted Mr. Wharton's family with proper courtesy. Od bowed silently to Mr. Harper, without looking up from the carpet, for Captain Wharton was hidden by a drawn curtain. Sarah, having hurriedly said hello, turned all her attention to the bale, and for several minutes, together with Birch, silently pulled out all kinds of objects from it. Soon the table, chairs, and floor were littered with bits of silk, crepe, gloves, muslin, and miscellaneous odds and ends that a traveling merchant usually sells. Caesar was busy holding the edges of the bale when the goods were taken out of it; sometimes he helped his mistress by drawing her attention to some luxurious fabric, which, due to its variegated colors, seemed to him especially beautiful. Finally, having selected a few things and bargained with the peddler, Sarah said cheerfully:
Well, Harvey, you didn't tell us any news? Perhaps Lord Cornwallis defeated the rebels again?
The peddler, apparently, did not hear the question. Leaning over the bale, he took out a delightful fine lace and invited the young lady to admire them. Miss Peyton dropped the cup she was washing; Frances's pretty little face poked out from behind the curtain, from where only one merry eye had previously been visible, and her cheeks glowed with colors that would shame the bright silk fabric that jealously hid the girl's figure.
The aunt stopped washing the dishes, and Birch soon sold off a good deal of his expensive merchandise. Sarah and Jennette were so delighted with the lace that Frances could not stand it and quietly slipped out of the niche. Here Sarah repeated her question with glee in her voice; however, her joy was caused more by the pleasure of a successful purchase than by patriotic feelings. The younger sister sat down again at the window and began to study the clouds; meanwhile the peddler, seeing that they were waiting for an answer from him, said without haste:
It is said in the valley that Tarleton defeated General Sumter on the Tiger River.
Captain Wharton involuntarily drew aside the curtain and stuck out his head, and Frances, listening with bated breath, saw Mr. Harper tear his calm eyes from the book he seemed to be reading, and look at Birch; his expression betrayed that he was listening with close attention.
That's how! Sarah exclaimed triumphantly. - Sumter... Sumter... Who is he? I won’t even buy pins, you won’t tell the priest all the news, ”she continued laughing and threw the muslin she had just been looking at on a chair.
For a few moments the peddler hesitated; he glanced at Mr. Harper, who was still gazing at him intently, and his demeanor suddenly changed abruptly. Birch walked over to the fireplace and, without any regret, spat a large portion of Virginia tobacco on the polished grate, and then returned to his goods.
He lives somewhere in the South, among the Negroes, - the peddler said curtly.
He is the same Negro as you, Mr. Behr!?, - Caesar sarcastically interrupted her and, in irritation, let go of the edges of the bale.
Okay, okay, Caesar, we're not up to it now, - Sarah said soothingly, who was eager to hear some more news.
A black man is as good as a white man, Miss Sally, if he is well-behaved,” the servant remarked offendedly.
And often much better, - the mistress agreed with him. “But tell me, Harvey, who is this Mr. Sumter?”
A slight shadow of discontent flickered on the face of the peddler, but quickly disappeared, and he calmly continued, as if an annoyed Negro did not interrupt the conversation.
As I said, he lives in the South, among the colored (Caesar meanwhile took up the bale again), and recently there was a clash between him and Colonel Tarleton.
And, of course, the colonel broke it! Sarah exclaimed with conviction.
That is what they say among the troops stationed in Morizania.
I'm just repeating what I've heard," Birch replied, and handed Sarah a piece of cloth.
The girl silently tossed it aside, obviously determined to find out all the details before buying anything else.
But the word on the plains,” continued the peddler, again looking around the room and for a moment fixing his eyes on Mr. Harper, “is that only Sumter and one or two others were wounded, and the whole detachment of regulars was smashed by the militiamen who sat in the log shed.
It's unlikely," Sarah said contemptuously. - However, I have no doubt that the rebels are hiding behind the logs.
In my opinion, it is more reasonable to shield yourself from bullets with a log than to shield a log with yourself, ”Birch calmly retorted and again gave Sarah a piece of lye.
Mr. Harper calmly lowered his eyes to the book he held in his hands, and Frances rose from her chair and, smiling, addressed the peddler in such a friendly tone as he had never heard from her before:
Do you have any more lace, Mr Birch?
The lace was immediately removed from the bale, and Frances also became a customer. She ordered a glass of wine to be served to the merchant; Birch drank it gratefully for the health of the ladies and the owner of the cottage.
So Colonel Tarleton is believed to have beaten General Sumter? asked Mr. Wharton, pretending to be piecing together a cup broken by his sister-in-law in the heat of excitement.
I think that's what the Morizanias think," said Birch.
What's the news, buddy? asked young Wharton, peering out from behind the curtain again.
Did you hear that Major Andre was hanged? Captain Wharton shuddered, and, after exchanging a very significant glance with the peddler, said with mock indifference:
This must have happened a few weeks ago.
And what, the execution made a lot of noise? - asked the owner of the house.
People talk all sorts of things, you know, sir.
Is not a movement of troops expected in the valley, dangerous to travelers, my friend? asked Mr. Harper, and looked fixedly at Birch.
Several packs of ribbons fell from the peddler's hands; his face suddenly lost its tense expression, and, deep in thought, he slowly replied:
The regular cavalry set out some time ago, and as I passed the de Lanay barracks, I saw the soldiers cleaning their weapons; no wonder if they move soon, for the Virginian cavalry is already in the south of West Chester.
How many soldiers do they have? asked Mr. Wharton, in alarm, as he stopped fiddling with his cup.
I did not count.
Only Frances noticed the change in Birch's face, and turning to Mr. Harper, she saw that he again silently buried himself in the book. Frances picked up the ribbons, put them back in place, and bent over the merchandise; luxuriant curls hid her face, which flared up in a blush that even covered her neck.
I thought the Confederate cavalry was headed for Delaware,” she said.
Maybe it is," said Birch, "I passed troops at a distance.
Meanwhile, Caesar chose a piece of chintz with bright yellow and red stripes on a white background; after admiring the cloth for a few minutes, he put it back with a sigh, exclaiming:
Very beautiful chintz!
Right, Sarah said. - A good dress would come out for your wife, Caesar.
Yes, Miss Sally! cried the admiring servant. “Old Dina’s heart would have jumped for joy—very good calico.”
In such a dress, Dina will be just like a rainbow, - the peddler put in good-naturedly.
Caesar gazed greedily at his young mistress until she asked Harvey how much he wanted for the chintz.
It depends on whom, - the peddler answered.
How many? - repeated surprised Sarah.
Judging by who the buyer is; I'll give it to my friend Dina for four shillings.
It's too expensive, - said Sarah, choosing something else for herself.
Huge price for a plain calico, Mr Birch! - grumbled Caesar, again dropping the edges of the bale.
Then let's say three, if you like that better," the peddler continued.
Of course, I like it better, - Caesar said with a satisfied smile and again opened the bale. “Miss Sally likes three shillings if she gives, and four if she receives.
The bargain was immediately concluded, but when the chintz was measured, it turned out that up to ten yards, needed for Dina's height, was a little short. However, an experienced merchant deftly stretched the fabric to the desired length, and even added a bright ribbon to match, and Caesar hastened to leave in order to please his venerable girlfriend with a new thing.
During the slight turmoil caused by the completion of the deal, Captain Wharton ventured to draw back the curtain again, and now, standing in full view, asked the peddler, who had begun to collect his goods as he left the city.
At dawn, came the reply.
So late? - the captain was amazed, but immediately caught himself and continued more calmly:
And did you manage to pass the picketers at such a late hour?
It worked," Birch answered curtly.
Probably, Garvey, many officers of the British army now know you, - Sarah said with a meaningful smile.
Some of them I know by sight,” said Birch, and, looking around the room, he looked at Captain Wharton, then for a moment he lingered his gaze on the face of Mr. Harper.
Mr. Wharton listened intently to the conversation; he completely forgot his feigned indifference and was so excited that he crushed the pieces of the cup he was trying so hard to glue together. As the peddler was tightening the last knot on his bale, Mr. Wharton suddenly asked:
Is the enemy going to bother us again?
Who do you call the enemy? asked the peddler, and, straightening up, he looked straight at Mr. Wharton, who became embarrassed and immediately lowered his eyes.
Anyone who disturbs our peace, - put in Miss Peyton, noticing that Mr. Wharton did not know what to answer. - Well, have the royal troops already moved from the South?
It is highly probable that they will move soon,” said Birch, picking up his pack from the floor and getting ready to leave.
Harvey was about to say something in response, but the door opened, and Caesar appeared along with his admiring wife.
Caesar's short, curly hair had turned gray over the years, and this gave him a particularly venerable appearance. Long and diligent use of the comb straightened the curls above his forehead, and now his hair stood upright, like stubble, adding to it? a good two inches tall. His black, glossy skin in his youth had lost its luster and turned dark brown. The eyes, set too wide, were small and kind, and only occasionally, when he felt offended, did their expression change; however, now they seemed to be dancing with delight. Caesar's nose possessed in abundance all the properties necessary for smelling, while with rare modesty it did not protrude forward; the nostrils were very voluminous, but they did not crowd out the cheeks. The mouth was too large, but double row pearl teeth reconciled with this shortcoming. Caesar was small, we would say - he was square, if the angles and line of his figure were distinguished by at least some geometric symmetry. His arms were long and muscular, with sinewy hands, greyish-black on the back and faded pink on the palms. But most of all, nature roamed, showing its capricious disposition when creating his legs. Here she completely recklessly exhausted the material. The calves were not in the back or in the front, but rather on the side and too high, so it seemed incomprehensible how his knees bend. If we consider that the feet are the foundation on which the torso rests, then Caesar had no reason to complain about them; however, they were turned towards the center, and at times it could seem that their owner was walking backwards. But whatever faults the sculptor found in his physique, Caesar Thompson's heart was placed in its place, and we do not doubt that its dimensions were as it should be.
Accompanied by his faithful life partner, Caesar approached Sarah and thanked her. Sarah listened to him good-naturedly, praised her husband's taste and remarked that the wife would probably suit the matter. Francis, whose face shone with no less pleasure than the smiling faces of Caesar and his wife, offered to sew Dina herself a dress from this wonderful cotton. The offer was respectfully and gratefully accepted.
The peddler left, and after him - and Caesar with his wife, but, closing the door, the Negro did not deny himself the pleasure of uttering a grateful monologue:
A kind little lady, Miss Fanny... takes care of her father... and wants to make a dress for old Dinah...
I don’t know what else Caesar said in a fit of emotion, for he walked a good distance away, and although the sound of his voice was still heard, the words could no longer be made out. Mr. Harper dropped the book, watching this scene with a soft smile, and Francis admired his face, from which deep thought and concern could not drive out expressions of kindness, this best property of the human soul.
"The face of a mysterious lord.
His manners, his proud face,
His posture and movement
Everything was admirable;
He was tall and straight.
Like a formidable battle castle,
And how much courage and strength
He kept calm!
When trouble happens
They always find him
Support, help and advice
And there is no worse punishment
How to deserve his contempt”
The princess shouted in excitement:
"Enough! This is our hero,
A Scot with a fiery soul!”
Walter Scott
After the peddler left, everyone was silent for a long time. Mr. Wharton heard enough to make his anxiety grow even stronger, and his fears for his son not lessened in the least. Mr. Harper sat imperturbably in his place, and the young captain silently wished him to go to hell; Sarah was neatly folding her new clothes, and Francis, with complete disregard for her own purchases, was carefully helping her, when suddenly a stranger broke the silence;
I meant to say that if Captain Wharton maintains his masquerade because of me, then he need not worry. Even if I had any reason to betray him, I still wouldn't be able to do it under the current circumstances?
The younger sister, pale, sank into a chair in amazement, Miss Peyton lowered the tray with the tea set, which she had just removed from the table, and the shocked Sarah seemed to be speechless, forgetting the purchases lying on her lap. Mr. Wharton was petrified; the captain was momentarily taken aback by surprise, then ran out into the middle of the room and, tearing off the accessories of his masquerade costume, exclaimed:
I believe you with all my heart, it's enough to play this tiresome comedy! But I still don't understand how you managed to find out who I am.
Really, you are much more beautiful in your own face, Captain Wharton, ”said the guest with a slight smile. - I would advise you never to try to change it. That alone,” and he pointed to a portrait of an English officer in uniform hanging over the fireplace, “would have betrayed you, and I had other reasons for guessing.
I flattered myself,” said young Wharton, laughing, “that I was prettier on the canvas than in this attire. However, you are a keen observer, sir.
Necessity has made me this way,” said Mr. Harper, rising from his seat.
Frances caught up with him at the door. Taking his hand in a swap and bursting into a bright blush, she said fervently:
You can't... you won't betray my brother! For a moment Mr. Harper stood silently admiring the pretty girl, then pressed her hands to his chest and solemnly answered:
If a stranger's blessing can do you good, accept it.
Mr. Harper turned and, bowing low, left the room with a delicacy quite appreciated by those whom he soothed.
The straightforwardness and seriousness of the stranger made a deep impression on the whole family, and his words brought great relief to everyone except the father. Soon the captain's clothes were brought, which, along with other things, were brought from the city; the young man, freed from the disguise that hampered him, was finally able to indulge in the joys of meeting with his loved ones, for the sake of whom he exposed himself to such great danger.
Mr. Wharton retired to his usual business; only the ladies were left with Henry, and a fascinating conversation began on topics that were especially pleasant to them. Even Miss Peyton was infected by the amusement of her young relatives, and for an hour they all enjoyed easy conversation, never once remembering that they might be in danger. Soon they began to remember the city and acquaintances; Miss Peyton, who never forgot the pleasant hours spent in New York, asked Henry about their old friend, Colonel Walmer.
ABOUT! exclaimed the young captain cheerfully. - He is still in the city and, as always, handsome and gallant.
A rare woman would not blush when she heard the name of a man with whom, if she was not yet in love, she was ready to fall in love, and, moreover, destined for her by idle rumor. That's what happened to Sarah; she lowered her eyes with a smile, which, together with the blush that covered her cheeks, made her face even more charming.
Captain Wharton, not noticing his sister's embarrassment, continued:
Sometimes he is sad, and we assure him that “that is a sign of love.
Sarah raised her eyes to her brother, then looked at her aunt, finally met Frenvis' eyes, and ha, good-naturedly, said:
Poor him! Is he hopelessly in love?
Well, what are you, no .., how can you! The eldest son of a rich man, so handsome, moreover, a colonel!
These are really great virtues, especially the last one! Sarah remarked with a mock laugh.
Let me tell you,” said Henry seriously, “the rank of colonel is a very pleasant thing.
Besides, Colonel Welmer is a very pleasant young man,” added the younger sister.
Leave, Francis, - said Sarah, - Colonel Welmer has never been your favorite; he is too loyal to the king to please you.
Isn't Henry devoted to the king? Frances retorted at once.
That's it, that's it," said Miss Peyton, "no disagreement about the colonel - he's my favourite."
Fanny prefers the majors! cried Henry, placing his little sister on his lap.
Nonsense! t - objected, blushing, Francis, trying to escape from the arms of a laughing brother.
What surprises me the most,” continued the captain, “is that, having obtained the release of our father, Peyton did not try to detain my sister in the rebel camp.
This could threaten his own freedom, - the girl answered with a sly smile, sitting down in her original place. “You know Major Dunwoody is a freedom fighter.
Freedom! Sara exclaimed. - Good freedom, if instead of one ruler choose fifty!
The right to choose their rulers is already freedom.
And sometimes the ladies would not mind using such freedom, - said the captain.
First of all, we would like to be able to choose who we like. Isn't that right, Aunt Janet? Francis noted.
You're talking to me," said Miss Peyton with a start. “What do I understand about such things, my child? Ask someone who knows more about this.
You might think that you were never young! And the stories about the lovely Miss Janet Peyton?
Nonsense, all this is nonsense, my dear, - said the aunt, trying to smile. It's stupid to believe everything they say.
You call it nonsense! the captain responded brusquely. “General Montrose to this day toasts Miss Peyton—I heard it myself only a few weeks ago at Sir Henry's table.
Oh Henry, you are as bold as your sister! Stop talking nonsense... Come, I'll show you my new needlework, I dare to compare it with Birch's.
The sisters and brother followed the aunt, pleased with each other and the whole world. As they climbed the steps to the little room where Miss Peyton kept all sorts of little household items, she nevertheless seized a moment and asked her nephew if General Montrose was suffering from gout, as in the old days of their acquaintance.
It is bitter disappointment when, as adults, we discover that even the creatures we love are not without weaknesses. But as long as the heart is young and thoughts of the future are not overshadowed by the sad experience of the past, our feelings are very elevated; we gladly ascribe to our loved ones and friends the virtues we ourselves aspire to and the virtues we have been taught to respect. The gullibility with which we are imbued with respect for people seems to be inherent in our nature, and our affection for relatives is full of “purity, so rarely preserved in subsequent years. Until evening, Mr. Wharton's family enjoyed a happiness they had not experienced for a long time; for the young Whartons, it was the happiness of tender love for each other, frank friendly outpourings.
Mr. Harper did not appear until after dinner, and, referring to some kind of work, went to his room as soon as they got up from the table. Despite the confidence he won, his departure made everyone happy: after all, the young captain could stay with his family for no more than a few days - the reason for this was a short vacation and fear of being discovered.
However, the joy of meeting supplanted thoughts of impending danger. During the course of the day Mr. Wharton expressed doubts about the unknown visitor twice, worrying whether he would betray Henry in any way; however, the children vehemently objected to their father; even Sarah, along with her brother and sister, wholeheartedly stood up for the stranger, declaring that a person with such appearance could not be insincere.
Appearances, my children, are often deceptive, - the father observed sadly. “If people like Major André are deceitful, it would be frivolous to rely on the virtues of a man who, perhaps, has much less of them.
Deception! cried Henry. “But you forget, father, that Major Andre served his king and the customs of war justify his behavior.
Don't the customs of war justify his execution? Francis asked in a low voice.
She did not want to deviate from what she considered the cause of her homeland, and at the same time she could not drown out her compassion for this man.
In no case! retorted the captain, and, jumping up from his seat, he began to walk quickly to and fro. Francis, you amaze me! Let us assume that I am now destined to fall into the hands of the rebels. So, in your opinion, it will be fair to execute me ... maybe you will even come to admire the cruelty of Washington?
Henry,” the young girl said mournfully, turning pale and trembling with excitement, “you don’t know my heart well!
Forgive me, sister, my little Fanny! - the young man said remorsefully, pressing Francis to his chest and kissing her face, flooded with tears.
I know it’s stupid to pay attention to the words spoken in passion, ”Frances picked up, freeing herself from her brother’s arms and raising her eyes, still wet from tears, with a smile,“ but it’s very bitter to hear reproaches from those we love, especially .. when you think ... when you are sure ... - her pale face turned pink and, looking down at the carpet, she said in a low voice:
That the accusations are undeserved.
Miss Peyton got up, sat down beside her niece, and gently taking her hand, said:
You don't have to be so upset. Your brother is very quick-tempered, you yourself know how unrestrained the boys are.
Judging by the way I behaved, you can add - and cruel, - said the captain and sat down next to Francis on the other side. - But the death of Andre all of us unusually worried. You didn't know him: he was the epitome of courage... of all virtues... of everything that deserves respect.
Frances shook her head, smiling a little, but said nothing. Noticing the shadow of disbelief on her face, Henry continued:
"Do you doubt you justify his execution?
I do not doubt his virtues, - the girl said softly, - and I am sure that he deserved a better fate, but I cannot doubt the justice of Washington's act. I know little of the customs of war, and would like to know even less, but how could the Americans hope to succeed in their struggle if they obeyed the rules established for a long time only in the interests of the British?
Why this fight? Sarah remarked indignantly. - They are rebels, and all their actions are illegal.
Women are like mirrors - they reflect those who stand in front of them, - good-naturedly inserted the young captain. - In Francis, I see the image of Major Dunwoody, and in Sarah ...
Colonel Velmir, - with a laugh, all crimson, interrupted the younger sister. “I confess I owe my convictions to Major Dunwoody—don’t I, Aunt Jennet?”
It seems that these are indeed his views, my child.
I plead guilty. And you, Sarah, have not yet forgotten the thoughtful reasoning of Colonel Welmir?
I never forget what is fair,” Sarah replied, rivaling her sister's complexion, and stood up as if she were hot by the fireplace.
There were no further incidents during the day, but in the evening Caesar announced that some muffled voices had been heard in Mr. Harper's room. The stranger was placed in the wing opposite, the drawing room, where Mr. Wharton's family usually gathered, and, in order to protect his young master from danger, Caesar established constant surveillance of the guest. The news excited the whole family, but when Mr. Harper himself appeared, whose manner, despite his reserve, testified to kindness and straightforwardness, the suspicions of all but Mr. Wharton were soon dispelled. His children and sister-in-law decided that Caesar was mistaken, and the evening passed without new worries.
The next day at noon, when everyone was sitting at the tea table in the living room, the weather finally changed. A light cloud, hanging very low over the tops of the hills, rushed from west to east at breakneck speed. However, the rain continued to beat furiously against the windows, and the sky in the east remained dark and gloomy. Francis watched the raging elements, with the impatience of youth, wanting to quickly escape from tedious captivity, when suddenly, as if by magic, everything calmed down. The whistle of the wind ceased, the storm calmed down. Running to the window, the girl was happy to see a bright sunbeam illuminating the neighboring forest. The trees were ablaze with all the variety of colors of the October dress, and the dazzling brilliance of the American autumn was reflected on the wet leaves. The inhabitants of the house immediately came out onto the southern terrace. The fragrant air was soft and invigorating; in the east, terrible dark clouds piled up over the horizon in disorder, resembling the retreat of a defeated army. Low above the cottage, wisps of fog were still rushing east with surprising speed, and in the west the sun was already breaking through the clouds and radiating its parting radiance on the landscape below and on the brilliant, rain-washed greenery. Such phenomena can only be observed under the sky of America. They please all the more, the more unexpected the contrast, when, having got rid of the bad weather, you enjoy a peaceful evening and quiet air, such as you get on the mildest June mornings.
What a majestic picture! said Mr. Harper to himself. How beautiful, how beautiful she is! May the same peace come to my fighting homeland, and may the same radiant evening complete the day of her suffering!
Only Francis, who stood next to him, heard these words. She looked at him in surprise. Mr. Harper stood bareheaded, erect, his eyes fixed on the sky. His eyes had lost the calm expression that seemed to be his characteristic; now they glowed with rapture, and a slight flush colored his cheeks.
There is nothing to be afraid of such a person, Frances thought. Only noble natures are given to feel so strongly.
The thoughts of the little society were interrupted by the unexpected appearance of Birch; at first light he hastened to Mr. Wharton's house. Harvey Birch walked with quick, large strides, not clearing puddles, waving his arms and sticking his head forward - the usual gait of itinerant merchants.
Nice evening,” he began, and bowed without raising his eyes. - Extremely warm and pleasant for this time of year.
Mr. Wharton agreed with his remark, and sympathetically asked how his father was. For some time the peddler stood in sullen silence; but, when the question was repeated, he answered, holding back the trembling in his voice:
The father is fading fast. Old age and hard life take their toll.
Harvey turned away, hiding his face from everyone, but Frances noticed the wet gleam in his eyes and quivering lips; the second time he rose in her opinion.
The valley in which Mr. Wharton's estate was located ran from northwest to southeast; the house stood on a slope, on the northwestern edge of the valley. Due to the fact that the terrain behind the hill on the opposite side sloped steeply towards the coast, the Sound could be seen beyond the peaks of the distant forest. The sea, so violently beating against the shore so recently, brightened and rolled long calm waves, and a light breeze blowing from the southwest gently touched their crests, as if helping to calm the excitement. Now it was possible to make out some dark dots on the water, which either rose or fell and disappeared behind the oblong waves. No one but the peddler noticed this. He was sitting on the terrace not far from Mr. Harper and seemed to have forgotten the purpose of his visit. As soon as his wandering gaze settled on these dark spots, he jumped up with liveliness and began to look attentively at the sea. Then he moved to another seat, looked at Mr. Harper with visible concern, and said, emphasizing every word:
Regular units must have moved from the south.
Why do you think so? asked Captain Wharton nervously. - God forbid that this be true: I need protection.
These ten whaleboats would not have gone so fast if they had been driven by an ordinary crew.
Could it be, said Mr. Wharton in a frightened tone, that it is—is it the Continental troops returning from the island?
No, it looks like regular ones, - the merchant answered pointedly.
It seems? repeated the captain. - Yes after all only points are visible.
Harvey didn't respond? to this remark; he seemed to turn to himself, uttering softly:
They went out before the storm.., these two days they stood near the island.., the cavalry is also on the way.., the battle will soon begin near us.
Birch looked at Mr. Harper with obvious concern as he spoke, but it was impossible to tell from the gentleman's face whether Birch's words were of any interest to him. He stood silently, admiring the scenery, and seemed to rejoice at the change in the weather. However, as soon as the peddler finished speaking, Mr. Harper turned to the owner of the house and said that business did not allow him to delay his departure any longer, so he would take advantage of the fine evening to make a few miles before nightfall.
Mr. Wharton expressed regret that they had to part so soon, but did not dare to detain his pleasant guest, and immediately gave the necessary orders.
The peddler's restlessness increased for no apparent reason; he kept looking at the south side of the valley, as if expecting trouble from there. Finally, Caesar appeared, leading the magnificent horse that was to carry Mr. Harper away. The peddler helpfully helped to tighten the girth and tie the traveling bag and the traveler's blue cloak to the saddle.
But now the preparations were over, and Mr. Harper began to say goodbye. He parted from Sarah and Aunt Janet cordially and simply. When he approached Francis, his face showed an expression of some especially tender feeling. The eyes echoed the benediction that the lips had recently uttered. The girl's cheeks flushed and her heart began to beat violently. The owner of the house and the guest finally exchanged pleasant phrases; To Captain Wharton, Mr. Harper held out his hand affably, and said impressively:
You have taken a risky step that could have very unpleasant consequences for you. If that happens, I might be able to prove my gratitude to your family for their kindness to me.
Of course, sir, - Mr. Wharton cried out in fear for his son, forgetting about politeness, - you will keep secret what you learned while in my domra!
Mr. Harper turned quickly to the old man; the stern expression that appeared on his face, however, softened, he softly answered:
I have not learned anything in your house that I did not know before, but now that I know that your son has come to see his loved ones, he is safer than if I did not know.
Mr. Harper bowed to the Wharton family and, without saying anything to the peddler, only briefly thanked him for his services, mounted his horse, calmly rode through a small gate, and soon disappeared behind a hill that covered the valley from the north.
The pedlar followed the receding figure of the horseman with his eyes until he was out of sight, then sighed with relief, as if rid of oppressive anxiety. All the others were meditating silently on the unknown visitor and his unexpected visit, while Mr. Wharton went up to Birch and said:
I am in your debt, Harvey - I have not yet paid for the tobacco that you kindly brought me from the city.
If he turns out to be worse than before, ”the peddler answered, rushing long look where Mr. Harper disappeared, only because it is now a rare commodity.
I like him very much,” continued Mr. Wharton, “but you forgot to name the price.
The expression of the peddler's face changed: deep concern gave way to natural cunning, and he answered.
It's hard to say what the price is now. I rely on your generosity.
Mr. Wharton took from his pocket a handful of coins with the image of Charles III, pinched three coins between his thumb and forefinger, and handed them to Birch. The peddler's eyes sparkled when he saw the silver; throwing in his mouth from one side to the other a solid portion of the goods he had brought, he calmly extended his hand, and dollars with a pleasant ring fell into his palm. However, the peddler was not satisfied with the fleeting music that sounded when they fell; he circled each coin on the stone steps of the terrace, and only then entrusted them to a huge suede purse, which disappeared from the eyes of onlookers so quickly that no one could tell in what part of Birch's clothes he disappeared.
Having successfully accomplished so essential a part of his task, the peddler rose from the steps and approached Captain Wharton; holding his sisters under the arms, the captain was telling something, and they listened to him with the liveliest interest. The turmoil he had endured called for a new supply of tobacco, which Birch could not do without, and before proceeding to less important business, he put another dose in his mouth. Finally he asked sharply:
Captain Wharton, are you leaving today?
No, - the captain answered shortly, looking tenderly at his charming sisters. “Do you wish, Mr. Birch, that I should leave them so soon, when perhaps I shall never have to enjoy their company again?”
Brother! Francis exclaimed. - It's cruel to joke like that!
I think, Captain Wharton," the peddler went on discreetly, "that now that the storm has subsided and the Skinners are moving, you'd better shorten your stay at home.
Oh, - exclaimed the English officer, - with a few guineas, I will pay off these scoundrels at any time, if they meet me! No, no, Mr Birch, I'll stay here until morning.
The money did not free Major Andre,” the merchant said coldly.
The sisters turned to their brother in alarm, and the eldest remarked, “Better take Harvey’s advice.” Indeed, in these matters one cannot neglect his opinion.
Of course, said the younger one, if Mr. Birch helped you get here, as I think, then for your safety and for our happiness, listen to him, dear Henry.
I made my way here alone and alone I will be able to return back, ”the captain insisted. - We agreed only that he would get me everything I needed for disguise and tell me when the way was free; however, in this case you are mistaken, Mr. Birch.
You made a mistake, - the peddler answered, alert, - the more reason you have to return this very night: the pass that I got could serve only once.
Can't you fabricate another one? The peddler's pale cheeks flushed with an unusual blush, but he remained silent and lowered his eyes.
I'm sleeping here tonight, and come what may,' the young officer added stubbornly.
Captain Wharton,” said Birch with deep conviction and painstaking emphasis, “beware of the tall Virginian with the enormous mustache. As far as I know, he is somewhere in the south, not far from here. The devil himself will not deceive him; I only managed to do it once.
Let him take care of me! the captain said arrogantly. - And with you, Mr. Birch, I remove all responsibility.
And will you confirm it in writing? asked the cautious peddler.
Why not? - laughing, exclaimed the captain. - Caesar! Pen, ink, paper, I'll write an acknowledgment that I release my trusty assistant Harvey Birch, the peddler, and so on and so forth.
They brought writing materials, and, the captain very cheerfully, in a joking tone, wrote the desired document; the peddler took the paper, carefully placed it where the images of His Catholic Majesty were hidden, and, after giving a general bow, he left by the same way. Soon the Whartons saw him pass through the door of his modest dwelling.
The father and sisters were so glad at the captain's delay that they not only did not speak, but drove away even the thought of the misfortune that could befall him. However, over dinner, thinking coolly. Henry changed his mind. Not wanting to be in danger, having left the protection of his parental shelter, he sent Caesar to Birch to arrange a new meeting. The negro soon returned with the disappointing news that he was late. Cathy told him that by this time Harvey had probably walked a few miles on the road north, he left the house with a bale on his back when the first candle was lit. The captain had no choice but to be patient, hoping that in the morning some new circumstances would prompt him to make the right decision.
This Harvey Birch, with his meaningful views and ominous warnings, greatly disturbs me, ”said Captain Wharton, rousing himself from his meditation and driving away thoughts of the danger of his position.
Why, in such troubled times, is he "allowed to walk up and down freely?" asked Miss Peyton.
Why the rebels let him go so easily, I don’t understand myself, ”answered the nephew,“ but Sir Henry will not let a hair fall from his head.
Really? exclaimed Frances, intrigued. Does Sir Henry Clinton know Birch?
Should know, anyway.
Don't you think, son, - asked Mr. Wharton, - that Birch can betray you?
Oh no. I thought about it before I trusted him; in business dealings, Birch appears to be honest. Yes, and knowing what danger threatens him if he returns to the city, he will not commit such meanness.
In my opinion,” Frances said in a tone to her brother, “he is not deprived good feelings. In any case, they sometimes look through him.
Oh, - exclaimed the elder sister with liveliness, - he is devoted to the king, and this, in my opinion, is the first virtue!
I'm afraid, - laughing, my brother objected to her, - that his passion for money is stronger than his love for the king.
In that case, - said the father, - while you are in the power of Birch, you cannot consider yourself safe - love will not stand the test if you offer money to a greedy person.
However, father, - the young captain said cheerfully, - after all, there is love that can withstand any test. Really, Fanny?
Here's a candle for you, don't delay dad, he's used to going to bed at this time.
Dry sand and swamp mud -
And the hunt goes on day and night,
Dangerous forest, steep cliff, -
Percy's bloodhounds are behind him.
Desert Esk replaces swamps,
The chase of the fugitive hurries
And he measures by one measure
July heat and thick snow,
And he measures by one measure
Radiance of the day and darkness of the night.
Walter Scott
That evening, the members of the Wharton family bowed their heads on the pillows with a vague premonition that their usual peace would be disturbed. Anxiety kept the sisters awake; all night they hardly closed their eyes, and in the morning they got up without resting at all. However, when they rushed to the windows of their room to look out over the valley, the former serenity reigned there. The valley shone in the radiance of a wonderfully quiet morning, such as are often given in America at the time of leaf fall, which is why the American autumn is equated with the most beautiful season in other countries. We don't have spring; vegetation does not renew slowly and gradually, as in the same latitudes of the Old World - it seems to bloom at once. But what a beauty in her dying! September, October, sometimes even November and December are the months when you enjoy being outdoors the most; True, there are storms, but they are somehow special, short-lived, and leave behind a clear atmosphere and a cloudless sky.
It seemed that nothing could disturb the harmony and charm of this autumn day, and the sisters descended into the living room with a revived faith in the safety of their brother and in their own happiness.
The family gathered early for the table, and Miss Peyton, with that pedantic precision that develops in the habits of a lonely person, gently insisted that her nephew's lateness should not interfere with the established order in the house. When Henry arrived, everyone was already at breakfast; however, untouched coffee proved that no one close to the absence of the young captain was not indifferent.
It seems to me that I acted very cleverly in staying, - said Henry, answering the greetings and sitting down between the sisters, - I got a magnificent bed, a mobile breakfast, which would not have happened if I had trusted the hospitality of the famous cowboy squad.
If you could sleep, - said Sarah, - you are happier than me and Francis: in every rustle of the night I imagined the approach of the rebel army.
Well, I confess, and I was a little uneasy, - the captain laughed. - Well, how are you? - he asked, turning to his younger sister, his obvious favorite, and patted her on the cheek. “You must have seen banners in the clouds and mistook Miss Peyton’s aeolian harp for the music of the rebels?”
No, Henry, - objected the girl, looking kindly at her brother, - I love my homeland very much, but I would be deeply unhappy if her troops approached us now.
Henry was silent; responding to Frances' loving look, he looked at her with brotherly tenderness and squeezed her hand.
Caesar, who was worried along with his whole family and rose at dawn to carefully examine the surroundings, and now stood looking out the window, exclaimed:
Run .., run ;; mass Henry, you must run if you love old Caesar .. here come the rebel horses! He turned so pale that his face was almost white.
Run! - repeated the English officer and proudly straightened up in a military way. - No, Mr. Caesar, flight is not my calling! - With these words, he slowly walked to the window, at which, numb with horror, his loved ones were already standing.
About a mile from the White Acacias, about fifty dragoons were descending in a chain along one of the passing roads into the valley. Ahead, next to the officer, rode a man in peasant clothes and pointed to the cottage. Soon a small group of riders separated from the detachment and rushed in the direction of the atom. Having reached the road that lay in the depths of the valley, the riders turned their horses to the north.
The Whartons still stood motionless at the window, watching with bated breath all the movements of the cavalrymen, who meanwhile drove up to Birch's house, surrounded him with a screech, and immediately posted a dozen sentries. Two or three dragoons dismounted and disappeared into the dock. A few minutes later they reappeared in the yard with Katie, and from her desperate gestures one could understand that the matter was by no means about trifles. The conversation with the loquacious housekeeper did not last long; the main force immediately approached, the dragoons of the vanguard mounted their horses, and all together galloped towards the White Acacias.
So far, no one from the Wharton family has found enough presence of mind in himself to think how to save the captain; only now, when trouble was imminently approaching and it was impossible to delay, everyone began hastily to suggest various ways to shelter him, but the young man rejected them with contempt, considering them humiliating for himself. It was too late to go into the forest adjoining the back of the house - the captain would not have failed to notice, and the mounted soldiers would undoubtedly have caught up with him.
Finally, with trembling hands, the sisters pulled on him a wig and all the other accessories of fancy dress that he had been wearing when he arrived at his father's house. Caesar kept them handy just in case.
Before the dressing was hastily done, the dragoons were scattered across the orchard and the lawn in front of the cottage, galloping with the speed of the wind; now Mr. Wharton's house was surrounded.
The members of the Wharton family could only make every effort to calmly meet the upcoming interrogation. The cavalry officer jumped off his horse and, accompanied by two soldiers, headed for the front door. Caesar slowly, with great reluctance, opened it. Following the servant, the dragoon went to the drawing room; he came closer and closer, and the sound of his heavy steps grew louder and louder, echoed in the ears of the women, the blood drained from their faces, and the cold squeezed their hearts so much that they almost lost consciousness.
A man of gigantic stature entered the room, who spoke of his remarkable strength. He took off his hat and bowed with a courtesy that did not match his appearance. Thick black hair fell in disarray on his forehead, although it was sprinkled with powder in the fashion of that time, and a mustache that disfigured him almost covered his face. However, his eyes, though piercing, were not malicious, and his voice, although low and powerful, seemed pleasant.
When he entered, Frances dared to steal a glance at him, and guessed at once that he was the same man against whose perspicacity Harvey Birch had so emphatically warned them against.
You have nothing to be afraid of, madam, - after a short silence, the officer said, looking around the pale faces around him. “I only have to ask you a few questions, and if you answer them, I will leave immediately; your home.
And what are those questions? murmured Mr. Wharton, rising from his seat, and anxiously waiting for an answer.
Did an outside gentleman stay with you during a storm? - continued the dragoon, to some extent and he himself shared the obvious concern of the head of the family.
This gentleman... this one... was with us during the rain and hasn't left yet.
This gentleman! repeated the dragoon, and turned to Captain Wharton. For a few seconds he looked at the captain, and the alarm on his face was replaced by a grin. With comical gravity, the dragoon approached the young man and, bowing low to him, continued:
I sympathize with you, sir, you must have had a severe head cold?
I? exclaimed the captain in astonishment. - I did not think to catch a cold head.
So, it seemed to me. I decided so, seeing that we covered such beautiful black curls with ugly; old wig. Excuse me please.
Mr. Wharton groaned loudly, and the ladies, not knowing what the dragoon actually knew, froze in place in fear .;
The captain involuntarily stretched his hand to his head and found that the sisters, in a panic, had not removed all of his hair under the wig. The dragoon was still smiling at him. Finally, assuming a serious air, he turned to Mr. Wharton;
So, sir, it must be understood that a certain Mr. Harper did not stay with you this week?
Mr Harper? said Mr. Wharton, feeling a great weight lifted from his soul. - Yes, I was .., I completely forgot about him. But he left, and if his personality is somehow suspicious, we can do nothing to help you - we don’t know anything about him, I don’t know him at all.
Don't let his personality bother you," the dragoon remarked dryly. - So, it means that he left ... How .., when and where?
He left as he came, said Mr. Wharton, reassured by the dragoon's words. - Topham, last night, and went along the northern road.
The officer listened with deep attention. His face lit up with a satisfied smile, and as soon as Mr. Wharton finished speaking, he turned on his heels and left the room. On this basis, the Whartons decided that the dragoons were going to continue searching for Mr. Harper. They saw him appear on the lawn, where a lively and apparently pleasant conversation ensued between him and his two subordinates. Soon some order was given to several cavalrymen, and they dashed off from the valley at full speed by different roads.
The Whartons, who followed this scene with intense interest, did not have to languish long in obscurity - the heavy steps of the dragoon announced that he was returning. Entering the room, he again bowed politely, and, approaching Captain Wharton, as before, with comic gravity, said:
Now that my main task is done, I would like, with your permission, to see your wig.
The English officer slowly took off his wig, handed it to the dragoon, and, imitating his tone, remarked:
I hope you like it sir?
I can't say that without sinning against the truth," replied the dragoon. “I would have preferred your jet-black curls, from which you have shaken the powder so carefully. And this wide black bandage probably covers a terrible wound?
You seem to be a keen observer, sir. Well, judge for yourself, - said Henry, removing the silk bandage and revealing an intact cheek.
Honestly, you are getting prettier in front of your eyes! continued the dragoon imperturbably. “If I could convince you to exchange that shabby coat for the magnificent blue one that lies on the chair next to me, I would have witnessed the most pleasant of all transformations since I myself turned from lieutenant to captain.
Henry Wharton very calmly did what he was asked to do, and a very handsome, elegantly dressed young man appeared before the dragoon.
The dragoon looked at him for a moment with his usual mockery, then said:
Here is a new face on the stage. Usually in such cases, strangers introduce themselves to each other. I am Captain Lawton of the Virginia Cavalry.
And I, sir, are Captain Wharton of His Majesty's 60th Foot,” said Henry with a stiff bow, his usual confident demeanor restored.
Captain Lawton's expression instantly changed, his feigned eccentricity was gone. He looked at Captain Wharton, who stood erect, with an air of haughtiness that said he did not intend to hide any longer, and said in the most serious tone:
Captain Wharton, I pity you from the bottom of my heart!
If you feel sorry for him, old Wharton exclaimed in despair, why pursue him, dear sir! He is not a spy, only the desire to see his loved ones made him change his appearance and go so far from his regiment in the regular army. Leave her with us! I will gladly reward you, I will pay any money!
Sir, only concern for your son can excuse your words, said Captain Lawton haughtily. - You forgot that I am a virgin and a gentleman! Turning to the young man, he continued:
Didn't you know, Captain Wharton, that our pickets have been stationed here in the south of the valley for several days?
I found out about it only when I caught up with them, but it was already too late to return, - the young man answered gloomily. - I came here, as my father said, to see my relatives; I thought your units were stationed at Peekskill, not far from the highlands, otherwise he would not have dared to do such an act.
It is possible that all this true truth, but Andre's case keeps us on our toes. When command is involved in treason, defenders of freedom must be vigilant, Captain Wharton.
In response to this remark, Henry bowed silently, and Sarah ventured to say a few words in defense of her brother. The dragoon officer politely, even sympathetically, listened to her and, in order to avoid useless and unpleasant requests for him, said soothingly:
I'm not a squad leader, ma'am. Major Dunwoody will decide what to do with your brother; under any circumstances, he will be treated politely and gently.
Dunwoody! Frances exclaimed, her pallor changing to a blush on her frightened face. - Thank God, then Henry is saved!
Let's hope. With your permission, we'll let him handle the matter.
Until recently, Francis's face, pale with anxiety, shone with hope. The excruciating fear for her brother lessened, but still she shuddered, she breathed quickly and intermittently, she was possessed by an unusual excitement. She looked up from the floor, looked at the dragoon, and immediately stared again at the carpet - she clearly wanted to say something, but did not find the strength to utter a word. Miss. Peyton watched her niece closely. With great dignity, she asked:
Does this mean, sir, that we shall soon have the pleasure of seeing Major Dunwoody?
At once, madame," replied the dragoon, averting his admiring gaze from Francis's face. “The messengers who will inform him of what has happened are already on the way, and having received the news, he will immediately appear here in the valley, unless for some special reason his visit will not cause anyone displeasure.
We're always glad to see Major Dunwoody.
Of course, he is everyone's favorite. May I, on this occasion, order my soldiers to dismount and refresh themselves? After all, they are from his squadron.
Mr. Wharton did not like this request, and he would have refused the dragoon, but the old man really wanted to appease him, and what's the use of refusing something that might have been taken by force. So he submitted to necessity and ordered that Captain Lawton's wish be carried out.
The officers were invited to have breakfast with the hosts: having finished their business outside the home, they willingly accepted the invitation. The vigilant warriors had not forgotten any of the precautions that their position demanded. On the distant hills sentinels roamed about, guarding their comrades, who, thanks to the habit of discipline and indifference to comforts, could enjoy peace, despite the danger that threatened them.
There were three strangers at Mr. Wharton's table. The officers were hardened by daily hard work, but all had the manners of gentlemen, so, although the privacy of the family was violated by the intrusion of outsiders, the rules of decency were observed with all strictness. The ladies yielded their seats to the guests, who, without undue ceremony, began to breakfast, paying tribute to Mr. Wharton's hospitality.
At last Captain Lawton, who had been gorging himself heavily on buckwheat cakes, stopped for a moment and asked the owner of the house if the peddler Harvey Birch was now in the valley, who sometimes goes there.
Only sometimes, sir, said Mr. Wharton apprehensively. He rarely comes here, and I don't see him at all.
That's strange! - said the dragoon, looking intently at the embarrassed master. - After all, he is your closest neighbor and, it would seem, should have become his own person in your house, and it would be convenient for the ladies if he came to you more often. I'm sure the muslin on the chair by the window cost twice as much as Birch would have asked you.
Mr. Wharton turned around in confusion and saw that some purchases were still strewn about the room.
The junior officers could hardly help smiling, but the captain resumed his breakfast with such zeal that he did not seem to expect to ever eat enough again. However, the need for reinforcements from Dinah's pantry caused another respite, and Captain Lawton did not fail to take advantage of it.
I was going to disturb Mr. Birch in his retreat, and I went to his house in the morning,” he said. - If I found him, I would send him to a place where he would not have to languish with boredom, at least for a while.
What is this place? asked Mr. Wharton, thinking he ought to keep the conversation going.
Guardhouse, - the dragoon answered restrainedly.
And what was wrong with poor Birch? Miss Peyton asked the captain as she handed him his fourth cup of coffee.
- "Poor"! exclaimed the dragoon. - Well, if he is poor, then King George does not reward services well.
His Majesty, - remarked one of the junior officers, - owes him, probably, the title of duke.
And the congress is a rope,” added Captain Lawton, starting on a new batch of cakes.
I am sorry that one of my neighbors has incurred the disgrace of our government.
If I catch him, - the dragoon shouted, buttering another cake, - he will swing on my birch bough!
It will serve as a good decoration for your own house, if it hangs at the entrance, - added the junior officer.
Be that as it may," continued the dragoon, "I'll get him before I'm a major.
The officers - it was quite obvious - were not joking, and they spoke in the language that people of their rough profession use when they are annoyed, and the Whartons decided it was wiser to change the subject. It was no secret to any of them that Harvey Birch was suspected by the American army and that he was not left alone. How he repeatedly found himself behind bars and just as often slipped out of the hands of the Americans under very mysterious circumstances was talked about too much in the district to be forgotten. In fact, Captain Lawton's annoyance was due in no small part to the peddler's last inexplicable escape, when the captain assigned two of his most loyal soldiers to guard him.
About a year before the events described, Birch was seen at the headquarters of the American commander in chief, just at the time when important troop movements were expected hourly. As soon as this was reported to the officer who was entrusted with the protection of the roads leading to the American camp, he immediately sent Captain Lawton after the peddler.
Familiar with all mountain crossings, tireless in the performance of his duties, the captain, at the cost of enormous effort and labor, fulfilled the task assigned to him. With a small detachment, he stopped to rest on a farm, personally locked the prisoner in a separate room and left two soldiers under guard, as already mentioned above. Then they remembered that not far from the guards, some woman was diligently busy with the housework; she especially tried to please the captain when he sat down to supper with all seriousness.
Both the woman and the pedlar disappeared; failed to find them. They found only a box, open and almost empty, and a small door leading to a room adjacent to the one in which the peddler was locked was thrown wide open.
Captain Lawton couldn't bear to be fooled. He had hated his enemy fiercely before, and this insult hurt him especially deeply. The captain sat in gloomy silence, thinking about the escape of his former prisoner and mechanically continuing to eat breakfast, although it was already quite a while and he could have eaten his fill. Suddenly the sound of a trumpet, playing a martial tune, swept through the valley. The captain immediately got up from the table and shouted:
Gentlemen, get on your horses, it's Dunwoody! - and accompanied by junior officers ran out of the house.
All the dragoons, except for the sentries left to guard Captain Wharton, jumped on their horses and rushed to meet their comrades. Lawton did not forget to take all the necessary precautions - in this war, double vigilance was needed, since the enemies spoke the same language and did not differ from each other either in appearance or customs. Approaching a detachment of cavalry, twice as large as his detachment, so that it was already possible to distinguish faces, Captain Lawton spurred his horse and in a minute was at the side of his commander.
The lawn in front of Mr. Wharton's house was again filled with cavalrymen; observing the same precautions, the newcomers hastened to share with their companions the feast prepared for them.
With great victories
Sending genes forever commanders,
But only he is truly a hero,
Who, admiring female beauty,
Able to fight her charms.
The ladies of the Wharton family gathered at the window and watched with deep attention?! behind the scene we have described.
Sarah looked at her countrymen with a smile full of contemptuous indifference; she didn't even want to give credit appearance people armed, as she believed, in the name of the devil's cause - rebellion. Miss Peyton admired the splendid spectacle, proud of the fact that they were the warriors of the elite regiments of her native colony; and Frances was worried about only one feeling that captured her whole.
The detachments had not yet managed to unite, as the sharp eye of the girl singled out one rider from all the others. Even the horse of this young warrior, it seemed to her, was aware that she was carrying an extraordinary person. The hooves of a thoroughbred warhorse barely touched the ground - his step was so light and smooth.
The dragoon sat in the saddle with an easy calm that showed that he was confident in himself and in his horse; in his tall, slender, muscular figure, both strength and dexterity were felt. It was to this officer that Lawton reported, and they drove side by side into the front lawn of Mr. Wharton's house.
The squad leader paused for a moment and looked around the house. Despite the distance separating them, Frances could make out his black glittering eyes; her heart beat so violently that it took her breath away. When the rider jumped off the horse, she turned pale and, feeling that her knees were failing, she had to sit down on a chair.
The officer hastily gave orders to his assistant and quickly walked across the lawn to the house. Frances got up and left the room. He climbed the steps of the terrace, and as soon as he touched the front door, it was already flung open before him.
Frances left the city still quite young, and she did not have to sacrifice her natural beauty to the then fashion. Her luxurious golden hair was not tormented by the barber's tongs: it fell on her shoulders in natural curls, like those of children, and framed a face that shone with the charm of youth, health and innocence. Her eyes spoke more eloquently than any words, but her lips were silent; she held out her clasped hands, and her bowed figure was so lovely that Dunwoody stood silent for a moment.
Frances escorted him silently into the room opposite the one in which her family had gathered, turned quickly to him, and putting both her hands into his, said trustingly:
Oh Dunwoody, how happy I am to see you, happy for many reasons! I brought you here to warn you that there's a friend in the next room you don't expect to meet here.
Whatever the reasons, - exclaimed the young man, kissing her hands, - I am very glad that we are alone with you, Francis! The test to which you subjected me is cruel; war and life far apart may soon separate us forever.
We must obey necessity, it is stronger than us. But now is not the time to talk about love; I want to tell you about another, more important matter.
But what could be more important than the inextricable bonds that will make you my wife! Francis, you are cold to me .. to someone who, in the days of severe service and in anxious nights, has not for a moment forgotten your image.
Dear Dunwoody, - touched to tears, Frances again held out her hand to him, and her cheeks again lit up with a bright blush, - you know my feelings ... The war will end, and nothing will prevent you from taking this hand forever ... But, while in this war you are the opponent of my only brother, I will never agree to bind myself to you with ties closer than those of our kinship. And now my brother is waiting for your decision: will you return his freedom or send him to certain death.
Your brother! exclaimed Dunwoody, startled and pale. - Explain .. what a terrible meaning lies in your words?
Didn't Captain Lawton tell you that he arrested Henry this morning? - Barely audible continued Frances, fixing on the groom a look full of anxiety.
He reported to me that he detained the disguised captain of the 60th regiment, without saying where and when, - the major answered just as quietly and, lowering his head, covered his face with his hands, trying to hide his feelings.
Dunwoody, Dunwoody! exclaimed Frances, losing all her confidence, suddenly seized with a gloomy foreboding. - What does your excitement mean?
When the major lifted his face, expressing the deepest compassion, she continued:
Of course, of course, you will not betray your friend, you will not allow - that my brother ..., your brother ..., die a shameful death.
Do! Frances repeated, looking at him with wild eyes. “Will Major Dunwoody hand over his friend—the brother of his future wife—to the hands of his enemies?”
Oh, don't speak so harshly to me, dear Miss Wharton... my Frances! I am ready to give my life for you ... for Henry ... but I cannot violate my duty, I cannot forget my honor. You would be the first to despise me if I did so.
Peyton Dunwoody," Frances said, her face going ashen, "you told me... you swore you loved me...
I love you! the young man said hotly. But Frances stopped him with a sign and continued in a voice trembling with indignation:
Do you really think that I will become the wife of a man who stained his hands with the blood of my only brother!
In the end, maybe we needlessly torture ourselves with fears. It is possible that when I find out all the circumstances, it will turn out that Henry is a prisoner of war, and nothing more; then I can let him go on parole.
There is no feeling more deceptive than hope, and it seems that youth has the happy privilege of enjoying all the joys that it can bring. And the more we ourselves are trustworthy, the more we are inclined to trust others and are always ready to think that what we hope for will happen.
The vague hope of the young warrior was expressed more by a look than by words, but the blood again rushed to the cheeks of the grief-stricken girl, and she said:
Oh, of course, there is no reason to doubt. I knew .., I know .., you will never leave us in our terrible trouble!
Frances was unable to control her excitement and burst into tears.
One of the sweetest privileges of love is the obligation to comfort those we love; and though the glimmer of hope that flashed before him did not much reassure Major Dunwoody, he did not disappoint the pretty girl who clung to his shoulder. He wiped away the tears on her face, and her faith in the safety of her brother and in the protection of her fiancé returned to her.
When Frances recovered and regained her composure, she hurried to escort Major Dunwoody into the drawing room and tell her family the good news, which she already considered reliable.
The major reluctantly followed her, foreseeing trouble, but after a few moments he was already in the circle of relatives and tried to muster all his courage in order to face the upcoming test with firmness.
The young officers greeted each other cordially and sincerely. Captain Wharton acted as if nothing had happened to shake his composure.
Meanwhile, the unpleasant thought that he himself was in some way involved in the arrest of Captain Wharton, the mortal danger that threatened his friend and the words of Francis tore at the heart, gave rise to an anxiety in Major Dunwoody's soul, which, despite all his efforts, he could not hide. The other members of the Wharton family received him warmly and in a friendly way - they were attached to him and did not forget about the service he had recently done them; besides, the expressive eyes and blushing face of the girl who entered with him eloquently said that they would not be deceived in their expectations. After saluting each one individually, Dunwoody with a nod of his head ordered the soldier whom the cautious Captain Lawton had assigned to the arrested young Wharton to leave, then turned to him and asked affably:
I beg you, Francis, not another word if you don't want to break my heart!
So you're refusing my hand? - rising, she said with dignity, but her pallor and trembling lips spoke of what a strong struggle was going on in her.
I refuse! Didn't I beg your consent, didn't I beg with tears? Is it not the crown of all my desires on earth? But to marry you under such circumstances would be dishonorable to both of us. Let's hope better times come. Henry must be acquitted, perhaps he will not even be tried. I will be his most faithful intercessor, do not doubt it and believe me, Francis, Washington favors me.
But this pass, the breach of trust you allude to, will turn Washington against my brother. If pleading and threats could shake his harsh sense of justice, would Andre perish? - With these words, Francis ran out of the room in despair.
For a minute Dunwoody stood as if stunned, then went out, intending to justify himself in the eyes of the girl and calm her down. In the anteroom, which separated the two drawing-rooms, he came upon a ragged child, who, after a quick glance at him, thrust a piece of paper into his hand, and immediately disappeared. All this happened instantly, and the excited major only had time to notice that the messenger was a poorly dressed country boy; he held the town toy in his hand and looked at it with such joy, as if he realized that he had honestly earned a reward for a task he had completed. Dunwoody looked down at the note. It was written on a piece of dirty paper, in illegible handwriting, but he managed to read the following: "Regular fit - cavalry and infantry."
Dunwoody winced. Forgetting everything except the duties of a warrior, he hastily left the Wharton house. Moving quickly towards his squadron, he saw on one of the distant hills a horse sentry galloping; several shots rumbled, and in the next instant there was an inviting trumpet sound: “To arms!” When the major reached his squadron, everything was in motion. Captain Lawton, on horseback, gazing at the opposite end of the valley, gave orders to the musicians, his mighty voice thundering as loudly as the brass pipes.
Blow louder lads, let the English know that this is the end for them - the Virginian cavalry will not let them go any further!
Scouts and patrolmen began to flock from everywhere; one after the other they quickly reported to the commander, and he gave clear orders with an assurance that excluded the thought of disobedience. Only once, turning his horse towards the meadow that stretched out in front of the White Acacias, Dunwoody ventured to glance at the house, and his heart began to beat violently when he saw the figure of a woman: she stood with her hands clasped at the window of the room where he saw Frances. The distance was too great to make out her features, but the major had no doubt that it was his bride. The pallor soon disappeared from his face, and his eyes lost their expression of sadness. As Dunwoody rode up to the place where he thought the battle was to take place, a blush appeared on his tanned cheeks. The soldiers, who looked into the face of their commander, as if into a mirror reflecting their own fate, saw with joy that he was full of inspiration and fire burned in his eyes, as it always happened before the battle. After the return of the sentinels and the dragoons who were absent, the number of the cavalry detachment reached almost two hundred people. In addition, there was also a small group of peasants who usually served as guides; they were armed and, if necessary, joined the company as infantrymen: now, on the orders of Major Dunwoody, they dismantled fences that could interfere with the movement of the cavalry. The foot soldiers quickly and successfully coped with this matter and soon took the place allotted to them in the upcoming battle.
From his scouts, Dunwoody received all the information about the enemy he needed for further orders. The valley, on which the major intended to launch military operations, descended from the foot of the hills stretching on both sides to the middle; here it turned into a gently sloping natural meadow, on which a small stream meandered, sometimes overflowing and fertilizing it. This river could be easily forded: only in one place, where it turned to the east, its banks were steep and interfered with the movement of the cavalry. Here a simple wooden bridge was thrown over the river, the same as the one that was half a mile from the "White Acacias".
The steep hills that bordered the valley on the east side cut into it in places with rocky ledges, narrowing it almost by half. The rear of the cavalry squadron was close to a group of such rocks, and Dunwoody ordered Captain Lawton to withdraw with two small companies under their cover. The captain obeyed grimly and reluctantly; however, he was consoled by the thought of what a terrible effect his sudden appearance with his soldiers would have on the enemy. Dunwoody knew Lawton well and had sent him there, as he was afraid of his ardor in battle, but at the same time he had no doubt that he would be there as soon as his help was needed. Captain Lawton could forget about caution only in the sight of the enemy; in all other cases of life, endurance and insight remained hallmarks his character (however, when he was impatient to join the battle, these qualities sometimes betrayed him). On the left side of the valley, where Dunwoody expected to meet the enemy, forest stretched for about a mile. The infantrymen withdrew there and took up a position not far from the edge, from where it was convenient to open scattered but heavy fire on the approaching British column.
Of course, one should not think that all these preparations went unnoticed by the inhabitants of the White Acacias; on the contrary, this picture aroused in them the most varied feelings that can only stir the hearts of people. Only Mr. Wharton did not expect anything comforting for himself, whatever the outcome of the battle. If the British won, his son would be freed, but what fate awaited him himself? So far, he has managed to keep aloof under the most difficult circumstances. His property almost went under the hammer due to the fact that his son served in the royal, or, as it was called, the regular army. The patronage of an influential relative who held a prominent political position in the state, and his own unfailing caution, saved Mr. Wharton from such a head. In his heart he was a staunch supporter of the king; however, when, last spring, after returning from the American camp, a flushed Francis announced to him her intention to marry Dunwoody, Mr. Wharton agreed to marry the rebel, not only because he wanted his daughter to be happy, but also because he most of all felt need for Republican support. If now the British had saved;
Henry, public opinion would consider that father and son acted in concert against the freedom of the states; if Henry remains in captivity and stands trial, the consequences will be even worse. As much as Mr. Wharton loved wealth, he loved his children even more. So, he sat watching the movement of the troops, and the absent-minded, indifferent expression of his face betrayed the weakness of his character.
Completely different feelings worried the son. Captain Wharton was assigned to guard two dragoons; one of them paced up and down the terrace with even steps, the other was ordered to be inseparable from the prisoner. The young man watched Dunwoody's orders with admiration, mingled with serious fears for his friends. He especially did not like the fact that a detachment under the command of Captain Lawton sat in an ambush - from the windows of the house it was clearly visible how he, wanting to moderate his impatience, was walking in front of the ranks of his soldiers. Henry Wharton swept the room several times with a quick searching glance, hoping to find an opportunity to escape, but invariably met the eyes of the sentinel fixed on him with the vigilance of Argus. With all the ardor of youth, Henry Wharton was eager to fight, but he was forced to remain a passive spectator of a scene in which he would gladly become a protagonist.
Miss Peyton and Sarah watched the preparations for battle with all sorts of feelings, and the strongest of them was anxiety for the captain; but when it seemed to the women that the beginning of the bloodshed was near, they with their usual timidity went further into the Other Room. Frances was not like that. She returned to the living room where she had recently parted from Dunwoody, and with deep emotion watched his every step from the window. She did not notice either the formidable preparations for battle, or the movement of troops - before her eyes she had only the one she loved, and she looked at him with delight and at the same time numb with horror. Blood rushed to her heart as the young warrior rode in front of the soldiers, encouraging and encouraging everyone; in a moment she went cold all over at the thought that the courage she so admired might perhaps open a grave between her and her beloved. Frances kept her eyes on him as long as she had the strength to.
In the meadow, to the left of Mr. Wharton's house, in the rear of the troops, stood a few men engaged in quite a different business than the rest. There were three of them: two adult men and a mulatto boy. Chief among them was a tall man, so skinny he looked like a giant. Unarmed, wearing spectacles, he stood beside his horse and seemed to pay equal attention to the cigar, the book, and what was happening on the plain before his eyes. It was to these people that Francis decided to send a note addressed to Dunwoody. Hurrying, she sketched with a pencil: "Come to me, Peyton, if only for a minute." From the cellar where the kitchen was located, Caesar came out and began to carefully make his way along the back wall of the cottage, so as not to catch the eye of the guard walking along the veranda, who very strongly forbade anyone to leave the house. The negro handed the note to the tall gentleman and asked him to pass it on to Major Dunwoody. The one Caesar approached was a regimental surgeon, and the African's teeth chattered as he saw the instruments on the ground ready for future operations. However, the doctor himself seemed to look at them with great pleasure when, tearing his eyes away, he ordered the boy to take the note to the major; then he slowly lowered his eyes to the open page and again plunged into reading. Caesar slowly walked towards the house, but then the third character, judging by the clothes - a junior rank in this surgical department, sternly asked if he "would like to have his leg chopped off." The question probably reminded Caesar what the legs were for, for he set them to work with such speed that he found himself at the terrace at the same time as Major Dunwoody, who arrived on horseback. A dozen sentries, who stood at the post, stretched out and, letting the officer pass, took on guard, but as soon as the door was closed, he turned to Caesar and said sternly:
Listen, black -haired, if you leave the house again without demand, I will become a barber and this brig howle will shake your black ears.
Without waiting for another warning, Caesar quickly disappeared into the kitchen, muttering some words, among which the most often heard were: "flayers", "rebels" and "swindlers".
Major Dunwoody, - Francis turned to her fiancé, - perhaps I was unfair to you .. if my words seemed harsh to you ...
The girl could not control her excitement and burst into tears.
Francis,” exclaimed Dunwoody ardently, “you are only harsh and unjust when you doubt my love!
O Dunwoody,” she sobbed, “you will soon go into battle and your life will be in danger, but remember that there is a heart whose happiness depends on your well-being. I know you are brave, be prudent...
For you? asked the young man admiringly.
For my sake, - said Frances barely audible and fell on his chest.
Dunwoody pressed it to his heart and was about to say something, but at that moment a trumpet sounded from the south end of the valley. The major kissed his bride tenderly on the lips, unclenched his arms around him, and hurried to the battlefield.
Frances threw herself on the couch, hid her head under the pillow and, pulling her shawl over her face so as not to hear anything, lay until the cries of the fighting ceased and the crackle of guns and the clatter of horses' hooves died out.
Stand, I see, like packs of hounds,
Rushing to weed.
Shakespeare, "King Henry V"
At the beginning of the war with the rebellious colonies, the British refrained from using cavalry. The reason for this was: the remoteness of the country from the mother country, rocky, uncultivated soil, dense forests, as well as the ability to quickly transfer troops from one place to another due to the undeniable dominance of England at sea. At that time, only one regiment of regular cavalry was sent to America.
However, in those cases when it was dictated by the requirements of wartime and the commanders of the royal army considered it necessary, cavalry regiments and separate detachments were formed on the spot. They were often joined by people who had grown up in the colonies; sometimes reinforcements were recruited from the regiments of the line, and the soldiers, putting aside the musket and bayonet, learned to wield a saber and a carbine. In this way, one auxiliary regiment of Hessian riflemen became a reserve corps of heavy cavalry.
The bravest men of America came up against the British. The cavalry regiments of the Continental Army were for the most part led by officers from the South. The patriotism and unshakable courage of the commanders were transferred to the rank and file - these people were carefully selected, keeping in mind the tasks that they had to perform.
While the English, to no avail, limited themselves to occupying here and there large cities, or making passages through places where no military supplies could be obtained, the light cavalry of their enemy operated throughout the country. The American army suffered unprecedented hardships, but the officers of the cavalry, feeling their strength and realizing that they were fighting for a just cause, did their best to provide their troops with everything they needed. The American cavalry had good horses, good food, and therefore achieved outstanding success. Perhaps at that time no army could be found anywhere in the world that could compare with the few but courageous, enterprising and tenacious units of light cavalry that served the continental government.
Major Dunwoody's soldiers have shown their prowess more than once in combat with the enemy; now they were impatient to strike again at the enemy, whom they almost always defeated. This desire was soon fulfilled: as soon as their commander had time to mount his horse again, the enemies appeared, rounding the foot of the hill that closed the valley from the south. In a few minutes Dunwoody could see them. In one detachment he saw the green uniforms of cowboys, in the other - leather helmets and wooden saddles of the Hessians. They were roughly equal in number to the military unit commanded by Dunwoody.
Having reached an open place near the house of Harvey Birch, the enemy stopped; the soldiers lined up in battle formation, apparently preparing for an attack. At that moment a column of English foot soldiers appeared in the valley; she moved to the bank of the river, which has already been mentioned.
In decisive moments, Major Dunwoody's composure and prudence were not inferior to his usual reckless courage. He immediately realized the advantages of his position and did not fail to take advantage of them. The column he was leading began to slowly withdraw from the field, and the young German, who commanded the enemy cavalry, fearing to miss the opportunity of an easy victory, gave the order to attack. Few soldiers were as desperate as the cowboys; they swiftly rushed forward, not doubting their success - after all, the enemy was retreating and their own infantry stood in the rear; the cowboys were followed by the Hessians, but at a slower pace and in a more even formation. Suddenly, the Virginian trumpets blew loudly and resoundingly, they were answered by the trumpeters of the detachment hiding in ambush, and this music struck the Englishmen to the very heart. Dunwoody's column is in perfect order, having made sharp turn, turned around, and when the command was given to fight, the soldiers of Captain Lawton came out of hiding; the commander rode ahead, swinging his saber over his head, his loud voice drowning out the shrill sounds of the trumpets.
The cowboys could not withstand such an offensive. They scattered in all directions and fled with as much speed as their horses, the best Westchester horses, were capable of. Only a few were overtaken by the hand of the enemy, but those who were struck by the weapons of their avenging compatriots were not destined to live to tell by whose hand they fell. The main blow fell on the poor vassals of the German tyrant. The unfortunate Hessians, accustomed to the strictest obedience, bravely accepted the battle, but the onslaught of hot horses and powerful blows of their opponents scattered them across the valley, like the wind scatters fallen leaves. Many were trampled in the truest sense of the word, and soon Dunwoody saw that the field was cleared of the enemy. The proximity of the English infantry prevented him from pursuing the enemy, and the few Hessians who managed to survive found safety behind their ranks.
The more devious cowboys dispersed in small groups along various roads and rushed to their old camp near Harlem. Many people who met them on the way suffered severely, having lost their livestock and household belongings, because, even fleeing, the cowboys brought only trouble.
It was hard to expect that the "White Acacias" would not be interested in the outcome of the events that played out so close to them. Indeed, anxiety overwhelmed the hearts of all the inhabitants of the house, from the kitchen to the living room. Fear and disgust kept the ladies from watching the fight, but they were pretty worried. Frances still lay in the same position, praying fervently and incoherently for her countrymen, but in her heart she identified her people with the sweet image of Pepton Dunwoody. Her aunt and sister were less steadfast in their sympathies; now that Sarah had seen the horrors of the war with her own eyes, the anticipation of the British victory no longer gave her much pleasure.
Four people were sitting in the kitchen: Caesar with his wife, their granddaughter - a black-and-black girl of about twenty, and the boy, whom we have already mentioned earlier. The Negroes were the last of those blacks that Mr. Wharton inherited along with the estate from his maternal ancestors, the first Dutch colonists. The rest have died out over the years. The boy—he was white—was taken into the house by Miss Peyton to serve as livery footman.
Taking cover at home to protect himself from a stray bullet, Caesar watched the fight with curiosity. The sentry, who was a few steps away from him on the terrace, sensed the appearance of a Negro with the subtle instinct of a trained bloodhound. The position prudently taken by Caesar caused a contemptuous smile from the sentinel; he straightened up and with a brave look turned his whole body in the direction where the battle was going on. Looking with unspeakable contempt at Caesar, the soldier said in an imperturbable top:
Well, you value your beautiful person, Mr. Negritos!
A bullet kills a black man as well as a white man,” the negro muttered angrily, casting a pleased look at his cover.
Check, right? - asked the sentry and, calmly pulling a pistol from his belt, took aim at Caesar.
The negro's teeth chattered as he saw the gun pointed at him, though he did not believe the dragoon's seriousness. At that moment Dunwoody's column began to withdraw, and the king's cavalry charged.
Aha, Mr. Cavalryman," the Negro said impetuously, imagining that the Americans were really retreating, "why don't your rebels fight? .. See .. see .. - how King George's soldiers are chasing Major Dunwoody! A good gentleman, but he can't beat the regulars.
They failed, your regulars! shouted the dragoon furiously. - Be patient, black-haired, you will see how Captain Jack Lawton will come out from behind the hill and disperse the cowboys, like wild geese that have lost the leader.
Caesar thought that Lawton's detachment hid behind the hill from the same motives that forced him to hide behind the steppes, but soon the words of the dragoon were confirmed, and the negro saw with horror that the royal cavalry was running in disorder.
The sentry began to loudly express his delight at the victory of the Virginians; his cries attracted the attention of another sentry guarding Henry Wharton, who ran to the open window of the living room.
Look, Tom, look, - the first sentry shouted joyfully from the terrace, - Captain Lawton put the leather caps to flight, those Hessians! But the major killed the horse under the officer ... Damn it, it would be better if he killed the German and put the horse alive!
Pistol shots followed the fleeing cowboys, and the bullet shattered the window glass a few paces from Caesar. Succumbing to the great temptation, not alien to our race, to get away from danger, the negro left his precarious shelter and immediately went up to the drawing room.
The lawn that stretched out in front of the White Acacias was not visible from the road; it was bordered by thick bushes, under the cover of which, waiting for their riders, the horses of two sentries stood tied together.
The victorious Americans pressed the retreating Germans until they were protected by the fire of their infantry. At this time, two cowboys, lagging behind their comrades, broke into the gates of the White Acacias, intending to hide behind the house, in the forest. The marauders felt completely safe on the lawn and, seeing the horses, succumbed to a temptation that few of them could resist - after all, there was such an opportunity to profit from cattle. Boldly, with a determination that is developed by a long habit, they almost simultaneously rushed to the desired prey. The cowboys were diligently untangling their tied reins when a sentry on the terrace noticed them. He fired his pistol and with a saber in his hand rushed to the horses.
As soon as Caesar appeared in the living room, the sentry guarding Henry redoubled his vigilance and approached the prisoner closer, but the cries of his comrade again drew him to the window. Bursting with curses, the soldier leaned over the window sill, hoping to frighten off the marauders with his belligerent air and threats. Henry Wharton could not resist the opportunity to flee. Three hundred of his companions were a mile from the house, horses without riders were rushing in all directions, and Henry, grabbing his unsuspecting guard by the legs, threw him out of the window onto the lawn. Caesar slipped out of the room and, going downstairs, pushed the bolt of the front door.
The soldier fell from a small height; he quickly recovered and unleashed all his anger on the prisoner. However, climbing back into the room through the window with an opponent like Henry in front of him was impossible, and when he ran to the front door, he found that it was locked.
His comrade loudly called for help, and, forgetting everything else, the stunned soldier rushed to his rescue. One horse was immediately repulsed, but the second cowboy had already tied to his saddle, and all four disappeared behind the house, savagely brandishing sabers and cursing each other for what the world was worth. Caesar unlocked the door and, pointing to the horse, which was calmly grazing on the lawn, shouted:
Run... run now, Massa Henry.
Yes, - exclaimed the young man, jumping into the saddle, - now is really the time to run, my friend.
He nodded hurriedly to his father, who was standing at the window in silent anxiety, his hands outstretched to his son, as if blessing him.
God bless you, Caesar, kiss the sisters, ”added Henry and flew out of the gate with the speed of lightning.
The negro watched him with fear, saw how he jumped out onto the road, turned to the right and, madly galloping along a sheer cliff, soon disappeared behind its ledge.
Now Caesar re-locked the door and, pulling bolt after bolt, turned the key all the way; all this time he was talking to himself, rejoicing at the happy rescue of the young master:
How deftly he drives ... Caesar himself taught him a lot ... A kiss of a young lady .., Miss Fanny will not allow the old nonsense to kiss his rosy cheek.
When the outcome of the battle was decided by the end of the day and it was time to bury the dead, two cowboys and one Virginian, who were found on the lawn behind the White Ocacia Cottage, were added to their number.
Fortunately for Henry Wharton, at the moment of his escape, the keen eyes of the one who arrested him looked through a telescope at the column of foot soldiers still occupying a position on the bank of the river, where the remnants of the Hessian cavalry now rushed in search of friendly protection. Henry Wharton was galloping on a purebred Virginian horse, which raced him through the valley with the speed of the wind, and the young man's heart was already beating joyfully at the thought of a happy release, when suddenly a familiar voice sounded loudly in his ears:
Excellent, captain! Do not spare the whip and, before reaching the bridge, turn left!
Henry looked around in amazement and saw his former guide, Harvey Birch, sitting on a steep ledge of rock overlooking the valley. A bale, greatly reduced in size, lay at his feet; the pedlar cheerfully waved his hat to an English officer galloping past. Henry took the advice of this mysterious man and, noticing a good path that led to a road that crossed the valley, he turned onto it and was soon opposite the location of his friends. A minute later he rode across the bridge and stopped his horse near his old acquaintance, Colonel Welmir.
Captain Wharton! exclaimed an English officer in surprise. - In a blue frock coat and on the horse of the rebels! Have you fallen from the clouds in this form and in this outfit?
Thank God, - the young man answered him with difficulty catching his breath. - I am whole, unharmed and escaped from the hands of enemies: just five minutes ago I was a prisoner and I was threatened with the gallows.
The gallows, Captain Wharton! Oh no, these traitors to the king would never have dared to commit a second murder. Is it not enough for them that they hanged Andre! And why did they threaten you with such a fate?
I am accused of the same crime as Andre, - the captain answered and briefly told the audience about how he was captured, what danger threatened him and how he managed to escape.
By the time Henry finished his story, the Germans, fleeing from the enemy, were crowding behind the column of foot soldiers, and Colonel Welmir shouted loudly:
With all my heart I congratulate you, my brave friend; mercy is a virtue unknown to these traitors, and you are doubly fortunate that you eluded them unharmed. I hope you will not refuse to help me, and soon I will give you the opportunity to honorably get even with them.
I do not think, Colonel, that the men commanded by Major Dunwoody would treat a prisoner insultingly, - the young captain retorted slightly reddening, - his reputation is higher than such suspicions; besides, I consider it imprudent to cross the river into the open plain in view of the Virginian cavalry, still excited by the victory just won.
In your opinion, defeating a random band of cowboys and these hulking Hessians is a feat that you can be proud of? asked Colonel Welmir with a contemptuous smile. “You talk about it, Captain Wharton, like your vaunted Mr. Dunwoody—for what kind of a major is he?” - defeated the guards regiment of your king.
Let me tell you, Colonel Welmir, if my king's guards were on this field, they would be faced with an enemy that is dangerous to disregard. And my vaunted Mr. Dunwoody, sir, is a cavalry officer, the pride of Washington's army," Henry objected hotly.
Dunwoody! Dunwoody! - with the arrangement repeated the colonel. “Really, I've seen this gentleman somewhere before.
I was told that you met him once in the city with my sisters, - hiding a grin, said Henry.
Oh yes, I remember such a young man. Does the all-powerful Congress of these rebellious colonies trust such a warrior to command!
Ask the commander of the Hessian cavalry if he thinks Major Dunwoody is worthy of such trust.
Colonel Welmer was not without that pride which makes a man stand bravely in the face of the enemy. He had long served in the British troops in America, but he only encountered young recruits and local militias. They often fought, and even bravely, but just as often they took to their heels without pulling the trigger. This colonel was in the habit of judging everything by appearance, he did not even allow the thought that the Americans could defeat people in such clean boots, so measuredly minting a step, able to flank with such accuracy. In addition to all this, they are English, and, therefore, they are always guaranteed success. Velmir almost never had to go to battle, otherwise he would have long ago parted with these concepts exported from England - they took root in him even deeper thanks to the frivolous atmosphere of the garrison city. With a haughty smile, he listened to Captain Wharton's ardent answer and asked:
Do you really want us to retreat before these arrogant cavalrymen, without in any way overshadowing their glory, which you seem to consider well-deserved?
I would only like to warn you, Colonel Welmir, of the danger you are in.
Danger is not a word for a soldier,” the British colonel continued with a grin.
And the soldiers of the sixtieth regiment are as little afraid of danger as those who wear the uniform of the royal army! exclaimed Henry Wharton vehemently. - Give the order to attack, and let our actions speak for themselves.
I finally get to know my young friend! said Colonel Welmir reassuringly. “But perhaps you can give us some details that will be useful to us in the offensive?” Do you know the forces of the rebels, do they have units in ambush?
Yes, - answered the young man, still annoyed by the colonel's taunts, - on the edge of the forest to our right is a small detachment of infantry, and the cavalry is all in front of you.
Well, she won't last long! cried the colonel, and turning to the officers who surrounded him, he said:
Gentlemen, we will cross the river in column and turn the front on the opposite bank, otherwise we will not be able to get these brave Yankees to come closer to our muskets. Captain Wharton, I'm counting on your help as adjutant.
The young captain shook his head - common sense told him that this was a rash move; however, he prepared himself courageously to fulfill his duty in the coming test.
While this conversation was going on - not far from the British and in full view of the Americans - Major Dunwoody gathered the soldiers scattered across the valley, ordered the prisoners to be taken into custody, and withdrew to the position he had held until the first appearance of the enemy. Satisfied with the success achieved and counting that the British were careful enough not to give him a chance to defeat them again today, he decided to call foot soldiers from the forest, and then, leaving a strong detachment on the battlefield to observe the enemy, withdraw with his soldiers for several miles. to their preferred parking spot for the night.
Captain Lawton listened with disapproval to the reasoning of his superior; he took out his invariable spyglass to see if it was still possible to successfully attack the enemy again, and suddenly cried out:
What the hell, a blue frock coat among red uniforms! I swear by Virginia, this is my 60th Regimental dressed-up buddy, handsome captain. Wharton - he eluded two of my best soldiers!
Before he could utter these words, a dragoon rode up - the one that remained alive after a skirmish with the cowboys - leading their horses and his own; he reported the death of a comrade and the flight of a captive. Since the dragoon who was killed was assigned to Captain Wharton, and the second could not be blamed for having rushed to rescue the horses entrusted to his guard, Captain Lawton listened to him with chagrin, but did not get angry.
This news completely changed Major Dan's plans:
Dunwoody. He immediately realized that Wharton's escape might cast a shadow on his own good name. The order to withdraw the infantrymen was canceled, and Dunwoody watched the enemy, waiting as eagerly as the ardent Lawton for the slightest opportunity to attack the enemy.
Just two hours ago, Dunwoody had felt as though fate had dealt him the hardest blow when chance had made Henry his prisoner. Now he was ready to put his life on the line just to detain his friend again. All other considerations gave way to the pangs of wounded pride, and perhaps he would have surpassed Captain Lawton in recklessness, if at that moment Colonel Welmer and his soldiers had not crossed the bridge and entered the open plain.
Look! shouted Captain Lawton in delight, pointing his finger at the moving column. - John Bull himself goes into the mousetrap!
This is true! said Dunwoody ardently. “It is unlikely that they will turn around on this plain: Wharton must have warned them of our ambush. But if they do...
Not even a dozen soldiers will survive from their army, ”Captain Lawton interrupted him, jumping on his horse.
Soon everything became clear: the British, having traveled a short distance on a level field, deployed the front with such diligence that would have done them credit during a parade in London's Hyde Park.
Get ready! On horses! shouted Major Dunwoody.
Captain Lawton repeated the last words, so loudly that they rang in the ears of Caesar, who was standing at the open window in Mr. Wharton's house. The negro jumped back in horror; he no longer thought that Captain Lawton was a coward, and now it seemed to him that he still saw the captain come out of the ambush, brandishing his saber over his head.
The British approached slowly and in perfect order, but then the American infantry opened up heavy fire, which began to disturb the parts of the royal army that were closer to the forest. On the advice of a lieutenant colonel, an old warrior, Welmire ordered two companies to knock out the cover of the American infantrymen. The regrouping caused slight confusion, which Dunwoody took advantage of to advance. The area seemed to be deliberately chosen for cavalry operations, and the British could not repel the onslaught of the Virginians. So that the American soldiers would not fall under the shots of their own comrades who hid in ambush, the blow was directed to the far bank of the rocks, against the forest, and the attack was crowned with complete success. Colonel Welmer, who fought on the left flank, was overwhelmed by the swift attack of the enemy. Dunwoody arrived in time, saved him from the saber of one of his soldiers, lifted him from the ground, helped him sit on the kopi and handed him over to the orderly. Wellmere instructed the very soldier who proposed this operation to dislodge the infantrymen from the ambush, and then the danger would be considerable for irregular American detachments. But they had already completed their task and now moved along the edge of the forest to the horses left under guard at the northern edge of the valley.
The Americans went around the British on the left and, hitting from the rear, put them to flight in this sector. However, the second English commander, who was watching the progress of the battle, instantly turned his detachment and opened heavy fire on the dragoons, who were coming up to start the attack. In this detachment was Henry Wharton, who volunteered to drive the foot soldiers out of the forest; wounded in his left hand, he was forced to hold the reins with his right. When the dragoons galloped past him to the militant music of the trumpeters with loud cries, Henry's excited horse stopped obeying, rushed forward, reared up, and the rider, wounded in the arm, could not cope with it. A minute later, Henry Wharton, willy-nilly, raced alongside Captain Lawton. The dragoon at one glance assessed the ridiculous position of his unexpected companion, but then both crashed into the line of the British, and he only had time to shout:
The horse knows better than his rider, whose cause is just! Welcome to the ranks of the freedom fighters, Captain Wharton!
As soon as the offensive was over, Captain Lawton wasted no time again taking his prisoner into custody, and seeing that he was wounded, ordered him to be taken to the rear.
The Virginians were not painfully on ceremony with a detachment of the royal infantry, which was almost entirely in their power. Noticing that the remnants of the Hessians again ventured onto the plain, Dunwoody set off in pursuit, quickly overtook their weak, ill-fed horses, and soon defeated the Germans utterly.
Meanwhile, taking advantage of the smoke and confusion of the battle, a significant part of the British managed to go to the rear of a detachment of their compatriots, who, maintaining order, were still standing in a chain in front of the forest, but were forced to stop firing, fearing to hit their own. Those who approached were ordered to stretch out in the second line under the cover of trees. Then Captain Lawton ordered the young officer who commanded the cavalry detachment, which was standing on the site of a recent battle, to strike at the surviving line of the British. The order was carried out with the same speed as given, but the swiftness of the captain prevented the preparations necessary for the success of the attack, and the cavalrymen, met with well-aimed fire from the enemy, retreated in confusion. Lawton and his young comrade were thrown off their horses. Fortunately for the Virginians, Major Dunwoody appeared at this critical moment. He saw disorder in the ranks of his army; at his feet and in a pool of blood lay George Singleton, a young officer whom he loved and greatly appreciated; fell off his horse and Captain Lawton. The Major's eyes lit up. He rode between his squadron and the enemy, loudly calling on the dragoons to do their duty, and his voice penetrated their very hearts. His appearance and words had a magical effect. The shouts ceased, the soldiers quickly and accurately lined up, the signal to advance was sounded, and the Virginians, led by their commander, rushed with unstoppable force through the valley. Soon the battlefield was cleared of enemies; the survivors rushed to seek refuge in the forest. Dunwoody slowly led the dragoons out from under the fire of the English hiding behind the trees and began the sad duty of picking up the dead and wounded.
End of free trial.
After reading this novel, I am left with an ambivalent feeling.
On the one hand, the novel is really fascinating - both directly with its events, and with the historical background on which they develop. You feel for his characters and sympathize with them. The author, in his own words, "chosen patriotism as his theme" - and this accurately characterizes ideological content works. The book was supposed to evoke (and probably evoked) in its American readers a sense of pride in their then very young country. The very words “patriotism” and “patriot” are by no means perceived when reading the novel as hackneyed expressions that have lost their true significance. The same can be said about the word "honor".
And at the same time, the work is quite chamber - most of the events take place with members of the same Wharton family or with people who, by the will of fate, turned out to be quite close to her. But in the life of this family, as in a drop of water, all the drama - and heroism - of the historical era was reflected.
There is also a place for humor in the novel (for example, in the reasoning of Sitgreaves).
Behind a number of statements scattered throughout the text (in particular, the same Sitgreaves), Cooper's negative attitude towards slavery is clearly visible.
Sometimes the narrative becomes clearly melodramatic or sentimental - but let's make allowances for the time and the literary setting.
On the other hand, what I read left a feeling of some absurdity.
Spoiler (plot reveal) (click on it to see)
And most importantly, the fact that Harper actually turned out to be just the guise of Washington himself is, in my opinion, complete absurdity, dealing a strong blow to the plausibility of the novel. The commander-in-chief of the army, leaving his headquarters for several days and traveling alone through neutral territory, is absurd. And what if he had been recognized by someone who sympathized with the British (all the more so since hundreds, if not thousands of people should have known him by sight) or stumbled upon an enemy outpost? In addition, the fact of such a reincarnation is not kept in absolute secret - it is known not only to the inner circle of Washington, but also, say, Dunwoody.
As I read, the opinion arose and strengthened in my mind that Harper is a certain high-ranking official in the headquarters near Washington, acting as the chief of intelligence (just like in real life Mr. H., mentioned by Cooper in the preface, played a similar role - the real John Jay) and not Washington. This opinion was not refuted even by the ambiguous phrase about Harper, said by Washington at his farewell meeting with Birch.
It was only after reading the novel, looking through its reviews in various sources, that I came across the repeated identification of Harper with Washington itself.
In the end, I asked myself: what works of Russian literature (as young as American, if we count from XVIII century) of about the same time, in terms of their subject matter and ideological orientation, at least approximately correspond to Cooper's "Spy"? Pushkin's The Captain's Daughter came to mind. The events of both books are chronologically quite close (1780 and 1773-1775); a number of parallels can be found in the plots (for example: the heroine saves the hero from death threatening him by decision of the military court, accidentally meeting with the first person of the state, while not knowing who she is actually talking to).
Score: 8
The Spy is the first novel by James Fenimore Cooper, which brought him fame not only in America, but also in Europe. Translation into many languages and thousands of reprints are proof of this. At the center of the novel is the life of one simple, at first glance, peddler, whose life is to sell goods at a higher price. However, as we read, we learn that Harvey Burch, the main character, is not so simple, because the desire of the American army to hang this man at all costs is proof of this. Only at the end of the novel is the whole truth about the fate of Garvey revealed, who turned out to be an honest and selfless patriot who faithfully served his homeland. The most interesting thing is that the story told in the novel is based on real events.
Reading the novel The Spy, one never ceases to be amazed at how subtle a psychologist Fenimore Cooper is. In the work a huge number of characters, however, how vividly he described each of the bottom. How vividly the author presented the relationships, feelings, experiences and finally the dialogues of each character. Reading this work, you are completely immersed in the atmosphere of the end of the 18th century. Maybe such a narrative may seem too long to someone, and that person will be right about something, but I liked such a detailed description of the life and life of people of that time. And besides, the focus is on such an interesting, mysterious and at the same time sad story of the war for the independence of the United States of America. The author perfectly conveyed the spirit of the war, excellently described the military structure, and what this war brought. How, because of such a terrible event, families collapse, how innocent people die, how marauders appear who take advantage of the difficult situation in the country. But of course, love. Can a young and sensual, vulnerable girl fall in love with a brave, brave major of the Virginia cavalry?
These are the kind of books that I think are worth reading. Such novels, of course, are included in the golden fund of world literature.
James Fenimore Cooper
The Spy, or the Tale of No Man's Land
Foreword
The author was often asked if he based himself on events from real life when describing the character of the protagonist of his book. The author can give the clearest answer to this question simply by setting before the reader the facts that formed the basis of this novel.
Years ago, the author of this book visited a prominent statesman who, during the bleak days of the American Revolution, held high positions on numerous occasions. The conversation turned to the impact that major political events have on people, and the purifying effect of love for the motherland, when this feeling awakens with force in the whole people. Our host, whose age, position and knowledge of the people made him the most authoritative participant in such a conversation, led our conversation. He dwelled on what a wonderful shift the great struggle of the whole nation had made in the war of 1775, giving a new, high direction to the thoughts and actions of many people, hitherto absorbed in the lowest worldly concerns, and cited a story to prove his assertion, the veracity of which he could confirm personally as its direct participant.
The feud between England and the United States of America, although not, strictly speaking, a real family quarrel, had many features. civil war. The American people were never actually and constitutionally subject to the English people, but the inhabitants of both countries were bound to be loyal to their common king. The Americans, as an independent nation, rejected this obligation, and the British supported their sovereign in his attempt to restore his power, and in this conflict many of the features inherent in internecine war appeared. A large number of emigrants from Europe took the side of the king, and there were many districts where their influence, together with the influence of Americans who remained loyal to the king, gave a significant advantage to the supporters of royal power. America was then too young and too in need of every loyal ally to be indifferent to these local divisions, even if total number they were few. However, the danger was greatly increased due to the activity of the British, who skillfully used these internal discords; it became even more serious when it was discovered that the British were trying to recruit various parts of the provincial troops and combine them with regiments that had arrived from Europe in order to force the young republic to submit. Then Congress created a special secret committee to destroy this plan. Mr. H., the narrator of the story, was appointed chairman of the secret committee.
Fulfilling the new duties assigned to him, Mr. H. more than once used the services of an agent, whose activities were not much different from the work of an ordinary spy. It is clear that this man, who belonged to the lower strata of society, could sooner than others agree to play such an ambiguous role. He was poor, uneducated in terms of systematic learning, but cold-blooded, shrewd and fearless by nature. He was instructed to find out in which part of the country the agents of the king were trying to recruit people, to go there to enroll in their detachment, to pretend to be an ardent supporter of the cause they supposedly served, and in the meantime to find out as many secret plans of the enemy as possible. This information he, of course, immediately reported to his superiors, who took all measures available to them to frustrate the plans of the British, and often succeeded.
Everyone understands that by doing such work, this man risked his life. Not only was he in danger of being exposed, but at any moment he could fall into the hands of the Americans themselves, who for such crimes punished their compatriots much more severely than Europeans. Indeed, Mr. H.'s agent was arrested several times by the local authorities, and on one occasion, outraged compatriots sentenced him to the gallows. Only a hasty secret order to the jailer saved him from a shameful death. He was given the opportunity to escape; and this seemingly imaginary, but in fact very real danger helped him a lot to play the role he had taken on before the British. The Americans, knowing only one side of his activities, considered him a daring and inveterate Tory. Thus, during the first years of the struggle, he continued to secretly serve his country, exposed to hourly dangers and causing universal undeserved contempt.
In ... the year Mr. H. was appointed to a high and honorary post at a European court. Before leaving Congress, he briefed its members on the circumstances described above, without, of course, naming his agent, and asked for a reward for a person who had done so much good for the country by exposing his life to great danger. Congress decided to give the agent a significant amount of money, and entrusted its delivery to the chairman of the secret committee.
Mr X made the necessary arrangements to see the agent in person. They met at night in the forest. Here Mr. X warmly thanked his assistant for his loyalty and courage, explained why their cooperation should end, and finally handed him the money. But he took a step back and refused to accept them. “The motherland needs this money,” he said. “And I can work myself and somehow earn a living.” It was not possible to persuade him, for patriotism was the main feature of this remarkable person; and Mr. H. left, taking with him the gold, and with it a deep respect for the man who for so long unselfishly risked his life in the name of their common cause.
Needless to add, this story, told simply but with feeling by one of its main participants, made a deep impression on all who heard it.
Many years later, purely accidental circumstances, which are not worth dwelling on, prompted the author to publish a novel that later became, which he did not foresee then, the first in a rather long series of novels. The same fortuitous circumstances that gave rise to this novel also determined the scene and its general character. The action took place in a foreign country, and the general character testified to the author's helpless attempts to portray foreign mores. When the novel was published, the author was reproached by his friends that he, an American in spirit and by birth, presented the world with a book, except that it was capable, and even then only to a weak extent, of exciting the imagination of his young and inexperienced compatriots with pictures from the life of society. so unlike the one he lives in. Although the author knew perfectly well that the appearance of the novel was purely accidental, he felt that these reproaches were to a certain extent justified. Believing that he had only one way to fix the matter, he decided to publish another book, the plot of which neither society nor himself could condemn. He chose patriotism as his theme, and for those who have read this preface, and indeed the book itself, it is probably not necessary to add that he took the hero from the story just told as the best illustration of his intention.
After the first edition of The Spy, there were many responses from different people, and everyone assumed that the author in his book had in mind exactly him. Since Mr. H. did not name his agent, the author could say nothing about his resemblance to this or that person, except what has already been told. Both Washington and Sir Henry Clinton had a very large number of secret agents. In a war that has so much in common with internecine strife, in which the warring parties are made up of people of the same blood and the same language, it can hardly be otherwise.
For this edition, the book has been revised by the author. He endeavored to make her more worthy of the praise with which she was greeted; however, he must admit that some errors are so closely woven into the composition of the novel that, like a dilapidated building, it is sometimes easier to rebuild than to fix. There have been many changes in America in twenty-five years. Among other achievements, the successes made by literature were not the last. At the time this book was written, everyone had so little hope for the publication's success. domestic work of a kind that several months had elapsed since the publication of the first volume of The Spy before the author decided to proceed with the second. The effort expended on a hopeless cause is seldom worthy of the one who undertook it, no matter how low we regard his merits.
Another incident related to the history of this book may give the reader some idea of the possibilities American writer in the first quarter of our century. While the second volume of The Spy was being slowly typed from a manuscript whose ink was barely dry and immediately handed over to the compositor, the publisher declared that the work was taking too long and that this could absorb all the income from the publication. To reassure him, the author wrote the last chapter, which was printed and numbered a few weeks before the previous chapters were born in his head. Although this circumstance does not serve as an excuse for the author, it can still explain why the characters in the novel leave the stage so hastily.
A SPY, OR A TALE OF NEUTRAL TERRITORY
James Fenimore COOPER
Chapter 1
His face, keeping calm.
It hid the heat of the soul and secret fervor.
And in order not to give out this fire,
His cold mind was not more guarded, -
So the flame of Etna fades in the light of day
Thomas Campbell, "Gertrude of Wyoming"
One evening, towards the end of 1780, a lone rider rode through one of the many small valleys of West Chester County. The piercing dampness and the growing fury of the east wind undoubtedly foreshadowed a storm, which, as often happens here, sometimes lasts for several days. But in vain the rider peered into the darkness with a keen eye, wishing to find a suitable shelter for himself, where he could hide from the rain, which had already begun to merge with the thick evening fog. He came across only wretched houses of people of low rank, and, taking into account the immediate proximity of the troops, he considered it unreasonable and even dangerous to stop in any of them.
After the British took possession of New York Island, the territory of West Chester County became a no man's land, and until the very end of the American people's war for independence, both warring parties operated here. A significant number of the inhabitants - whether due to family affections, or out of fear - contrary to their feelings and sympathies, adhered to neutrality. The southern cities, as a rule, submitted to the royal authority, while the inhabitants of the northern cities, finding support in the proximity of the continental troops, boldly defended their revolutionary views and the right to self-government. Many, however, wore a mask that had not yet been thrown off by this time; and not one person went down to the grave with the shameful stigma of an enemy of the legitimate rights of his compatriots, although he was secretly a useful agent of the leaders of the revolution; on the other hand, if one were to open the secret boxes of some of the fiery patriots, one could pull out on the "holy of God" royal safe-conduct hidden under British gold coins.
Hearing the clatter of the hooves of a noble horse, every farmer woman, whose dwelling was passed by a traveler, timidly opened the door to look at the stranger, and, perhaps turning back, reported the results of her observations to her husband, who was standing in the back of the house ready to flee to the neighboring forest, where he usually hid when he was in danger. The valley was located about in the middle of the county, quite close to both armies, so it often happened that the one who had been robbed by one side received back his property from the other. True, he was not always returned his own good; the victim was sometimes compensated for the damage he had suffered, even with a surplus for the use of his property. However, in this area, the law was violated every now and then, and decisions were made to please the interests and passions of those who were stronger. The appearance of a somewhat suspicious-looking stranger on horseback, although without military harness, but still proud and stately, like his rider, caused many guesses among the inhabitants of the surrounding farms who stared at them; in other cases, in people with a troubled conscience, - and considerable anxiety.
Exhausted by an unusually difficult day, the rider was eager to quickly hide from the storm, which raged more and more, and now, when it suddenly poured large drops of slanting rain, he decided to ask for shelter in the first available housing. He didn't have to wait long; riding through the rickety gate, without dismounting from his saddle, he knocked loudly at the front door of a very unprepossessing house. In response to the knock, a middle-aged woman appeared, whose appearance was as uninviting as her dwelling. Seeing a rider at the threshold, illuminated by the bright light of a blazing hearth, the woman recoiled in fright and half closed the door; when she asked the visitor what he wanted, fear was reflected on her face, along with curiosity.
Although the half-closed door did not allow the traveler to see properly the decoration of the room, yet what he noticed made him again fix his gaze into the darkness in the hope of finding a more friendly shelter; however, with difficulty hiding his disgust, he asked to be given shelter. The woman listened with obvious displeasure and interrupted him before he could finish his sentence.
“I won’t say that I willingly let strangers into the house: the times are troubled now,” she said in a cheeky, sharp voice. I am a poor lonely woman. Only the old master is at home, and what good is he! About half a mile away, further down the road, there is a manor, where you will be received and not even asked for money. I'm sure it will be much more convenient for them, and more pleasant for me - because Harvey is not at home. I would like him to listen to good advice and ask him to wander; he now has a decent amount of money, it’s time for him to come to his senses and live like other people of his age and prosperity. But Harvey Birch does things his own way and will eventually die a tramp!
The rider didn't listen anymore. Following the advice to go further along the road, he slowly turned his horse towards the gate, pulled the skirts of his wide cloak tighter, preparing to set off again into the storm, but the last words of the woman stopped him.
“So this is where Harvey Birch lives?” - involuntarily escaped from him, but he restrained himself and did not add anything more.
“You can’t say that he lives here,” the woman answered, and, quickly taking a breath, she continued:
“He hardly comes here, and if he does, it is so rare that I hardly recognize him when he deigns to show his poor old father and me. Of course, I don't care if he ever comes home ... So the first gate on the left ... Well, I don't care if Harvey ever comes here or not ... - And she slammed the door on the rider, who was glad to ride another half mile to a more suitable and more secure home.
It was still quite light, and the traveler saw that the ground around the building to which he drove up was well cultivated. It was a long low stone house with two small outbuildings. A veranda stretching the entire length of the facade with neatly carved wooden pillars, the good condition of the fence and outbuildings - all this favorably distinguished the estate from simple neighboring farms. The rider put the horse around the corner of the house in order to at least protect it from rain and wind, threw his travel bag over his arm and knocked on the door. Soon an old negro appeared; apparently not considering it necessary to report to his masters about the visitor, the servant let him in, first looking around with curiosity by the light of the candle he held in his hand. The negro led the traveler into a wonderfully comfortable living room, where a fireplace was burning, so pleasant on a gloomy October evening, when the east wind was raging. The stranger gave the bag to a caring servant, politely asked the old gentleman, who rose to meet him, to give him shelter, bowed to the three ladies who were engaged in needlework, and began to free himself from outer clothing.
He removed the scarf from his neck, then the cloak of blue cloth, and before the attentive gaze of the members of the family circle appeared a tall, extremely well-built man of about fifty. His features expressed self-respect and restraint; he had a straight nose, close in type to the Greek; calm gray eyes looked thoughtfully, even, perhaps, sadly; mouth and chin spoke of courage and strong character. His traveling attire was simple and modest, but his compatriots from the upper strata of society dressed like that; he did not have a wig on, and he combed his hair like a military man, and in a slender, surprisingly well-formed figure, a military bearing showed. The stranger's appearance was so impressive, and so obviously a gentleman in him, that when he took off his excess clothes, the ladies half rose and, together with the owner of the house, once again bowed to him in response to the greeting with which he addressed them again.
- The owner of the house was several years older than the traveler; his demeanor, dress, surroundings - everything indicated that he had seen the light and belonged to the highest circle. The ladies' company consisted of an unmarried lady in her forties and two young girls at least half her age. The colors had faded from the older lady's face, but her lovely eyes and hair made her very attractive; She was also charmed by her sweet, friendly manner, which many younger women by no means always can boast of. The sisters - the resemblance between the girls testified to their close relationship - were in the full bloom of youth; a blush, an essential property of a West Chester beauty, radiated on their cheeks, and deep blue eyes shone with that brilliance that captivates the observer and speaks eloquently of spiritual purity and peace.
All three ladies were distinguished by the femininity and grace inherent in the weaker sex of this region, and their manners showed that they, like the owner of the house, belonged to high society.
Mr. Wharton, for that was the name of the owner of a secluded estate, brought a glass of excellent Madeira to his guest and, having poured a glass for himself, sat down again by the fireplace. For a minute he was silent, as if considering whether he would violate the rules of politeness by asking a similar question to a stranger, finally, glancing at him with a searching look, he asked:
- To whose health do I have the honor to drink? The traveler also sat down; when Mr. Wharton uttered these words, he absentmindedly looked into the fireplace, then, turning an inquisitive look at the owner of the house, answered with a slight flush in his face:
My last name is Harper.
“Mr. Harper,” continued the host with the ceremony of the time, “I have the honor to drink to your health, and hope the rain has not harmed you.
Mr. Harper bowed silently in response to the courtesy, and again fell into thought, which seemed quite understandable and excusable after a long journey through such bad weather.
The girls sat back down at their hoops, and their aunt, Miss Janet Peyton, came out to supervise the preparations for the unexpected guest's supper. There was a short silence; Mr. Harper seemed to be enjoying the warmth and peace, but the host again broke the silence by asking the guest if the smoke would disturb him; having received a negative answer, Mr. Wharton immediately took up the pipe, which he put down when the stranger appeared.
The owner of the house clearly wanted to start a conversation, however, either out of fear of stepping on slippery ground, or not wanting to break the obviously deliberate silence of the guest, he did not dare to speak for a long time. At last he was encouraged by the movement of Mr. Harper, who glanced in the direction where the sisters were sitting.
“Now it has become very difficult,” remarked Mr. Wharton, to begin with carefully bypassing the subjects that he would like to touch, “to get tobacco, which I used to indulge myself in the evenings.
“I thought the New York shops gave you the best tobacco,” said Mr. Harper calmly.
- Well, yes, of course, - Mr. Wharton answered uncertainly and looked at the guest, but immediately lowered his eyes, meeting his firm gaze. “New York is probably full of tobacco, but in this war, any, even the most innocent, connection with the city is too dangerous to risk over such a trifle.
The snuff-box from which Mr. Wharton had just filled his pipe stood open almost at Mr. Harper's elbow; he automatically took a pinch from it and tasted it on his tongue, but Mr. Wharton was alarmed. Without saying anything about the quality of the tobacco, the guest fell into thought again, and the host calmed down. Now that he had made some progress, Mr. Wharton did not want to retreat, and, making an effort on himself, continued:
- I wish from the bottom of my heart that this unholy war ends and that we can again meet with friends and loved ones in peace and love.
"Yes, I would very much like to," said Mr. Harper expressively, and looked up again at the master of the house.
“I have not heard of any significant troop movements since the arrival of our new allies,” remarked Mr. Wharton; knocking out the ashes from the pipe, he turned his back to the guest, as if in order to take a piece of coal from the hands of his youngest daughter.
- Apparently, this has not yet become widely known.
- So, it must be assumed that some serious steps will be taken? asked Mr. Wharton, still leaning towards his daughter and unconsciously hesitating to light his pipe while waiting for an answer.
Are they talking about anything specific?
- Oh no, nothing special; however, from such powerful forces as Rochambeau commands, it is natural to expect something.
Mr. Harper nodded his head in agreement, but said nothing, and Mr. Wharton, lighting his pipe, continued:
- There must be more decisive action in the South, Gates and Cornwallis there, apparently, want to end the war.
Mr. Harper wrinkled his brow, and a shadow of deep sadness flickered across his face; eyes for a moment lit up with fire, revealing a strong hidden feeling. The admiring glance of the younger sister barely had time to catch this expression, as it had already disappeared; the stranger's face became again calm and dignified, indisputably showing that his reason prevailed over his feelings.
The older sister rose from her chair and exclaimed triumphantly:
“General Gates was as unlucky with Earl Cornwallis as he was with General Burgoyne.
“But General Gates is not an Englishman, Sarah,” the younger lady hastened to protest; embarrassed by her boldness, she blushed to the roots of her hair and began to rummage through the working basket, secretly hoping that no one paid attention to her words.
