In Hostile Red Part 10

"Oh, that's nothing," said Marcel; "you'll soon grow used to these hot summers."

"Why, what do you know about them?" asked Moore, quick as lightning, "when you've been here less than a week."

I almost groaned at my comrade's thoughtless remark, and my heart paused for a long time over its next beat. But Marcel was as calm as the sphinx.

"Why shouldn't I know a great deal about the heat here?" he replied.

"Did I not make my entry into Philadelphia at the rifle muzzles of a lot of American rascals? Did they not make it warm enough for me then to become an expert on the subject of heat? Don't you think that I can endure any temperature after that?"

"You certainly came in a hurry," said Moore, "but you have redeemed yourselves as quickly as if you were Irishmen, and, after all, what a pity you were not born Irishmen!"

"Ireland is always unfortunate; she misses everything good," said Marcel, briefly.

The next instant we met Belfort, and I was devoutly thankful that he had not been present when Marcel made his remark about our hot summers. Its suggestive nature would not have been swept so quickly from his mind as it had been swept from the minds of the others.

But Belfort was in a good humor and was courteous, even cordial, to us.

He complimented us on our share in the skirmish, and to me especially he hoped that further honors would soon come. Just as we reached Catron's door he turned to Marcel and said,--

"I've a pleasant bit of news for you, Captain Montague. Your cousin Harding--Sir John Harding's son, you know--arrived to-day on a frigate that came up the Delaware, and no doubt he will be as glad to see you as you will be to see him."

I was thankful for the darkness, as I know I turned pale. Already I felt piercing me those bayonet points on which we had been dancing so recklessly. Of course, this cousin arriving in such untimely fas.h.i.+on would expose us. Confound him! Why had not a merciful Providence wrecked his s.h.i.+p?

"I hope that I shall meet him soon, to-morrow or perhaps the next day, when he has fully recovered from the long journey," said Marcel.

"There will be no such wait as that," replied Belfort, cheerfully. "He will be here to-night, to meet all of us. Catron invited him, and he was glad to come. I saw him this afternoon, and as he is a good sailor, he needed no rest."

"So much the better," said Marcel, with unbroken calm. "We can initiate him to-night into the mysteries of Philadelphia. But all of our family take readily to new countries."

We were in the anteroom now, and I thought it best to imitate Marcel's seeming unconcern. It was impossible to withdraw, and it was more dignified to preserve a bold manner to the last.

A servant opened the door for us, and we pa.s.sed into the rooms where the others were gathered. I was blinded for a moment by the lights, but when my eyes cleared I looked eagerly about me. I knew every man present, and curiously enough the knowledge gave me a sense of relief.

"I do not see my cousin," said Marcel, as we returned our greetings.

"Belfort told us that he would be here."

"He will come in half an hour," replied Catron. "Remember that he landed from the s.h.i.+p only this afternoon, and we are not usually in a break-neck hurry to see cousins, unless they be of the other s.e.x, and very fair."

We drank wine, and then began to play cards,--whist, picquet, and vingt et un. Belfort was at our table, and apparently he sought to make himself most agreeable. As it was unusual in one of his haughty and arrogant temper, it deceived completely all except Marcel and myself.

But we understood him. We knew that he was expecting some great blow to fall upon us, and that his good humor arose wholly from the hope and expectation. What he suspected of us--whether he believed us to be in false attire, or merely considered us enemies because I had been so bold as to admire Miss Desmond, the lady of his choice--I could not say. Yet he undoubtedly expected us to be knocked over by the arrival of this unexpected and unknown cousin of Marcel's, and it was equally sure that he hated us both.

He began to talk presently of Harding,--Rupert Harding he called him; and though he pretended to have eyes only for his cards, I believed that he was covertly watching our faces. Marcel thought to lead him to a pleasanter subject, but he would not follow, and the life, career, and ambitions of Rupert Harding seemed to have become a weight upon his mind, of which he must talk. Chills, each colder than its predecessor, raced up and down my backbone, but my face looked calm, and I was proud that I could keep it so.

Marcel, unable to draw Belfort away from Rupert Harding, began by and by to show an interest in the subject and to talk of it as volubly as Belfort himself. But I noticed that nearly everything he said was an indirect question, and I noticed, too, that he was steadily drawing from Belfort a full history of this troublesome young man, for the arrival of whom we were now looking every moment.

Marcel dropped a card presently, and when he leaned over to pick it up, he whispered,--

"You are keeping a splendid face, old comrade. Let it never be said that we flinched."

A certain spirit of recklessness now took possession of me. We were past all helping, we had suffered the torments of antic.i.p.ated detection, and having paid the penalty, we might endure the short shrift that was left to us. I laughed with the loudest and grew reckless with the cards. Luck having deserted me at all other points, now, as an atonement, made me a favorite at the gaming-table, and I won rapidly. The arrival of Harding was long delayed, and I hoped it would be further postponed, at least long enough for me to win ten more pounds. Then my ambition would be satisfied.

"It has been a long time since you have seen Harding, has it not?" asked Belfort of Marcel.

By pure chance all the players happened to be quiet then, but it seemed as if they were silent merely to hear his answer.

"It has been such a while since I have held a good hand of cards,"

replied Marcel, with a comic gesture of despair, "that my mind can hold no other measurements of time."

"Don't be downcast, Montague," said Catron, laughing; "your luck will change if you only play long enough."

"Unless the bottom of my pocket is reached first," said Marcel, with another rueful face.

Only he and I knew how little was in that pocket.

"Why is that cousin of mine such a laggard?" asked Marcel, presently.

"We have been at the cards nearly an hour and he has not come."

"He will be here," said Belfort. "Does he play a good game?"

"If he doesn't play better than I do," replied Marcel, "he ought to be banished forever from such good company as this."

"Come, come, Montague!" said Catron, "a soldier like you, who can look into the angry face of an enemy, should show more courage before the painted face of a card."

I saw that no suspicion had entered the mind of any save Belfort, and he pressed his lips together a little in his anger at the way in which his questions were turned aside. But he was too wise to make a direct accusation, for all the others would have taken it as absurd, and would have credited his feelings immediately to the jealousy which he had shown of me.

The door opened, and a tall young man of our own age in the uniform of a British officer entered, and stood for a moment looking at us. His face was unknown to me, and this I felt sure must be Marcel's cursed cousin Rupert. I saw Marcel's lip moving as if he would greet the stranger but he remained silent, and I, resolving to keep a bold face throughout, played the card that I held in my hand.

"You are late, Richmond," said Catron, "but your welcome is the greater.

There are some present whom you do not know. Come, let me introduce you.

This is Lieutenant Moore, and this is Captain Montague, and this, Lieutenant Melville; the last two just arrived from England, and of whose adventures you perhaps have heard. Gentlemen, Lieutenant Henry Richmond of Pennsylvania, one of his Majesty's most loyal and gallant officers."

So it was not the cousin after all, but a Tory, and my heart sprang up with a strange sense of relief. A place was made for him at one of the tables, and the game, or rather games, went on.

"It is warm to-night," said Belfort to me. He called one of the servants, who opened another window. With Marcel's blunder fresh before me, I was not likely to repeat it, and I continued to play the cards in silence.

"Do you not regard the insurrection as dead?" he asked.

"I have been too short a time in America," I replied in a judicial tone, "to be an authority, but I should say no."

"What do they think at home?" he asked.

"Some one way and some another," I replied. "Fox and Burke and their followers think, or pretend to think, that the rebels will yet win, and the loyal servants of the king, who are in the great majority, G.o.d bless him! think that if the insurrection is not dead it soon will be. But why speak of politics to-night, Lieutenant Belfort, when we are here for pleasure?"

I was afraid that he would lead me into treacherous fields. He listened, and then turned back to the subject of Harding.

"He is unusually late," he said, "but I suppose that Captain Montague can stand it."

"Undoubtedly," I replied. "Cousins are usually superfluous, any way."

I had made up my mind that we would maintain the illusion until the actual exposure and my nerves had become steady.