Joscelyn Cheshire Part 26

"You do not know the penalty one pays for harbouring a spy; I will go this very night and free you from this menace."

"No, no," was the hasty answer. "We should both be undone--Tarleton's men will watch the house all night. To-morrow night perchance, or the night after; but not to-night. You are safe here for the present, for his lords.h.i.+p's orders will be obeyed."

He came close to her, so close that he saw the pallor of her face, and the perfume of her dress rose with a sweet intoxication to his nostrils.

"Joscelyn, is it for love of me that you have done this thing?"

"No."

"For what, then?"

"For sake of our old comrades.h.i.+p and for Betty. Besides, you saved my life this afternoon--a return of favours leaves no burden of obligation on either of us."

"Nay; you risk more for me than I did for you."

She shrugged her shoulders. "The accounts balance." Then glancing about solicitously, she added, "I would I could make you more comfortable, but our first care must be to avert suspicion. Good night."

She was moving to the door, but he caught her wrists just below the hanging lace of her sleeve; and holding her thus, he told her in a few graphic sentences all his thoughts as he had rested under the rafters behind the chest--the reason and the history of his scouting venture, the mental trysts he had held with her so often. All the intensity of his strong nature went into that appeal; it seemed as if a heart of ice must have melted in it; and for a moment her head did droop and her hands tremble, then she shrugged her gleaming shoulders again, saying:--

"It had certainly been more soldier-like to have come for love of your cause, rather than for sake of a girl's eyes."

"For sake of both did I come."

"A spy--"

But she got no further; something in her tone stung him to the quick.

"You need not speak so disparagingly. A spy's work may not be pleasant, but it is absolutely necessary. Without the information he sends his general, false steps might be taken and hundreds of lives needlessly sacrificed. A spy has a humane as well as a dangerous mission."

"'Tis well you think so highly of your calling. Good night again."

"Joscelyn, do not leave me thus; this day we have each looked into the eyes of death--let us at least part as friends."

She turned back, her face dimpling with a smile that was like a gleam of suns.h.i.+ne, "Good night, Richard, and a safe awakening."

Then she was gone; and he threw himself down to sleep the sleep of utter weariness.

Joscelyn sat on the rug before her almost burned-out fire, trying to disengage the attic key from the big bunch her mother habitually wore at her belt, and thinking rapidly of the events of the day. She knew that the end had not been reached, but she was determined to brave it out; there was nothing else to do,--there had been nothing else from the first. And she must stand alone. Fresh inquiry would be inst.i.tuted to-morrow, and her mother's veracity could not stand the strain to which it might be put if she knew all. Neither could the secret be shared with Aunt Clevering, for her mother-heart might betray its anxiety, and so would another family be involved. She must bear the burden herself; must evade, pretend, even _lie_, if need be, to keep the knowledge from any one else. The man had fled to her for sanctuary; which were worse, she asked herself bitterly, to soil her lips with an untruth, or her hands with a betrayal, a breach of trust and of hospitality? From Betty and Aunt Clevering she could expect no mercy of neglect, because of that hasty speech about the attic closet. It had been made thoughtlessly, to establish her own footing more securely by a great show of loyalty; but would, she knew, act as a two-edged sword, cutting away part of her safety. To-morrow she would not dare leave the house all day lest something terrible transpire in her absence; she must feign some pretext for staying indoors--perchance a headache from the effects of her fright.

And then having planned her course fully and carefully, woman-like she began to cry tempestuously at the position in which she found herself; blaming with equally unreasoning impatience the band, Richard, and her horse for her predicament. If she were only a Whig, doing this thing for her country, or else if she were but in love with Richard, how beautiful, how romantic, it would all be! But--but--

And even after she was in bed, she went on sobbing softly to herself.

CHAPTER XXIII.

IN TARLETON'S TOILS.

"The brave man is not he who feels no fear, For that were stupid and irrational; But he whose n.o.ble soul its fear subdues, And bravely dares the danger nature shrinks from."

--JOANNA BAILLIE.

After a troubled sleep that brought little rest, Joscelyn opened her eyes on what she supposed would be a day of danger,--certainly a day of small deceptions. But in one way fortune favoured her; the morning was cold and raw, with now and then a flurry of snow, so she would have no occasion to leave the house, and need worry over no excuse for biding at home. But the early hours were full of quavers and starts; the least quick noise sent her blood racing through its channels. Her first real fright came when the guard in the back yard discovered bits of fresh mud upon the trellis of the porch.

"'Tis nothing," she said, with a touch of asperity when he showed it to her; "the maid threw a broken flower pot from the upper window, and this earth was no doubt spilled out as it fell--there are the remnants of the jar by the fence."

The guard bowed and withdrew; but there was a supercilious smile on his face, which filled her with nervous apprehension. In a hasty resentment that the man perhaps guessed at her duplicity, she could have struck him.

And yet a second time was she thrown into consternation, when her mother discovered the loss of the attic key from her bunch.

"Oh, it is not lost! I broke the string yesterday night, and doubtless I missed this one when I strung them up again. It is in my room this minute, I dare swear. Is there aught you need in the attic now?"

"Nay, I but feared the key was lost."

"Well, let me first finish this round of knitting and I will hunt it.

Mother," she went on, after a pause, during which she picked up her st.i.tches industriously, "had you not better go over and make my peace with Aunt Clevering? She was most angry with me last night."

"And good cause she had, Joscelyn; methinks I never heard any one make so rude a speech. What put you to it?"

"In faith, mother, I cannot tell. It was cruel and unwarranted, and you may tell her I say so, and that I am bitterly sorry. Make any excuse you please, only make it at once, for you know Aunt Clevering's displeasure grows like a mushroom when left to itself."

She had small hope that her aunt would be appeased, but she wanted her mother out of the way that she might carry her prisoner something to eat. It was close upon one o'clock, and not a morsel had she been able to give him. She drew the bolt of the front door after her mother, who was nothing loath to go upon this peace errand; and hurrying to the dining room, made hasty preparation to relieve Richard's needs. She was not used to doing things upon the sly, and her heart was in hot rebellion that she must stoop to such a thing among her own servants.

There were hard lines of determination about her mouth, but the hands that sliced the meat and b.u.t.tered the bread shook a little. Even when on the stair, she turned back, startled by a sound in the hall; but it was only the cat romping with her little ones, and so once more she went on.

Softly she unlocked the attic door, and stepped in. The room was in partial twilight, having no window, but she saw Richard coming to meet her.

"No May-day suns.h.i.+ne was ever half so welcome," he whispered, taking her hand in both of his. "Tell me how matters have gone this morning. I have fretted myself into a fever lest I bring some annoyance upon you. And now you must promise me that if discovery comes, you will forswear all knowledge of my being here. I shall claim that the key was in the lock, and after I was inside, some one came and closed the door. Thus will you be free from blame."

"And think you any one will believe so flimsy a story? Nay, the only safety for either of us lies in your not being discovered. I understand that Tarleton is furious over his failure, and has already ordered a new search. I rely upon my own loyalty, and upon his lords.h.i.+p's order for our exemption. But if the worst comes, we must be prepared."

"I am." He touched his pistols and drew himself up until his magnificent figure was at perfect pose. "I shall die, Joscelyn, but like a soldier; not on the gallows."

She shuddered, and her eyes lost their coldness; the woman in her was touched by his cool courage in face of such a danger.

"Yes," she said, with a hesitating gentleness, "but I pray it come not to that. By being prepared I meant we must leave no tell-tale traces here such as these,"--she pointed to the platter and pitcher. "I shall take these away; your dinner I have brought in this bit of paper--leave no crumbs when you have finished. This jug contains water and this bottle wine; stand them in that corner with those empty bottles, and they will attract no attention."

"It shall be done, Joscelyn."

"Watch under the door; if there is an order given to search the house, I will try and warn you by a note."

"Joscelyn, desperate as I was, I should have sought some other shelter, had I not thought your loyalty would put your house beyond the shadow of suspicion. Will you not say you forgive me before you go? We may never meet again."

"There is nothing to forgive; you but put it in my power to requite an obligation," she said very gently.

"That is scarce a pardon. I would have you speak as though the forgiveness came from your heart, rather than from your head. Between us there can be no question of a debt; my love makes me your bondservant, and as such my service is yours rightfully."

"Your name is not known," she broke in hastily, "but I understand it is suspected that my rescuer of yesterday is the escaped spy."

"That accounts for Tarleton's doubt of you. Joscelyn, I will not stay here a moment longer and expose you thus. My mother's house has already been searched--"