A Little Girl in Old Philadelphia - Amanda Minnie Douglas (freda ebook reader TXT) 📗

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"We did not set out for that," returned Vane, smiling.

"And if you have set out for Madam Wetherill's it will be quite as useless. She and the young one have gone off larking, for wild flowers, I believe. Mistress Kent went with them for dragon."

Then the men looked at each other.

"How long have they been gone, I wonder."

"Oh, since about high noon!"

Patty had looked up from her sewing at the second knock.

"Thy ride will get noised about and throw suspicion off guard, which will be so much the better," she exclaimed.

They waited impatiently for the return of the guard, laughing over another call or two. It was almost dusk when Janice and Primrose returned.

"Friend Henry escaped safely, though, madam, if thou shouldst be taxed with rudeness in not bowing at the proper time, pray apologize. We met some old friends, but he was somewhat stiff. And the saddle is left with one Master Winter at Fairemount. I ripped it that he might have the job of sewing and earn a few pence. Friend Henry was glad enough to doff petticoats and jump on astride; 'tis about the only thing I envy in a man. And then I put on thy skirt, and we slunk into town quietly. Quite an adventure, truly! If one could only hear the end of it!"

James Henry heard the next day that there was a warrant out for his son, who was suspected of carrying messages and other matters to the rebel headquarters at Valley Forge. He had left his horses and the wagon in the market place, and disappeared. No one remembered letting him out on his pass. It might be that he was still hiding in the town.

"There has been too much of this carrying back and forth," declared the sergeant. "It is time there was a sterner hand at the helm, and not so much pleasuring."

There were reasons why Captain Nevitt said nothing to his little sister about the matter, and she was strictly forbidden to suggest it. The Wetherill household had not seen Andrew, as he had watched his opportunity to slip in unaware; consequently, nothing was gained by questioning them.

"They would certainly have known if he had come in our absence," said Madam Wetherill with an air of interest. "Of course we must be sorry to have him in danger, but we will not lay the matter before Primrose."

There were stirring events on both sides. On the 7th of May the news reached the Continental army of the recognition of France. The warmer weather and the replenishment of food and clothing had inspirited the men. Many new enlistments from the country around had come in. On this morning they were assembled for prayers and thanksgiving. General Steuben had drilled them until they presented a really soldierly appearance. But their enthusiasm broke bounds when the salutes were fired.

"Long live the King of France!" ran through the army with a shout. Another salute was fired. "Long live the friendly European powers." And the third, "The American States," was received with the wildest joy. They all forgot the suffering of the long, dreary winter.

After a discourse by one of the chaplains, there was a collation. When the General and Mrs. Washington retired the soldiers lined the way with the cry of "Long live General Washington!" "Long live Lady Washington!" a title that seemed to follow her, and that had been given her before by Colonel Hancock.

It was supposed the campaign would open almost at once. But General Howe's army had been demoralized more by dissipation than the Continentals by hardships, and weakened by numerous desertions. The officers had been in one round of gayety, and the city recalled their charms long afterward. They had made the theater a reputable place of amusement, and the higher-class balls had been well patronized by the Tory ladies.

But the farewell to General Howe was to excel all other gayeties, and to be an event long remembered, including a regatta, a tournament, and a dance. Decorated barges left Knight's Wharf in the afternoon, full of handsomely attired guests, who were carried to Old Fort, and escorted by troops to the beautiful and spacious lawn of Walnut Grove. The English fleet lay at anchor, flying their colors, and the transport ships were crowded with spectators.

The tournament, with its two sets of knights ready to do battle for their favorite ladies, sounds like a chapter out of the Middle Ages. New York had abounded in gayeties, but this eclipsed anything yet attempted. The apartment had been decorated by the British officers, foremost among them young Andre, little dreaming then what fate had in store for him, and how his life would end.

After the tournament, with its stilted magnificence, came a dance, a display of fireworks, a supper with twenty-four slaves in Oriental costumes, with silver collars and gilt armlets. The walls were hung with mirrors, and thousands of wax tapers reflected the brilliance of silken gowns and jewels, of scarlet and gold uniforms, of fair women and brave men that made the Mischianza a glittering page of history.

It was true that many beside the Tory ladies graced the occasion. There had been an undeniable friendliness between both Americans and British, and many a heart won and lost, as it was said six hundred or more deserters from Clinton's army found their way back to Philadelphia and made worthy citizens, some of them indeed entering the American army.

Captain Nevitt had importuned Madam Wetherill to attend, for he was resolved Primrose should see the pageant. Polly Wharton had, as she admitted, nine minds out of the ten to go, as Thomas Wharton, the owner of Walnut Grove, was her uncle. But her brother was in the American army, and her heart really went with her country.

"As if a little dancing could matter!" said Phil Nevitt. "Nay, Miss Polly, I doubt not but that some day I shall see you at the court of our King, and perhaps dance with you in a palace. And I want Primrose to go, but Madam Wetherill will not, though Major Andre himself sent the invitation. He is such a charming, generous fellow that he can do more with his winning air than many with their swords. But Primrose I must take. She is such a pretty, saucy, captivating rebel that it is charming to tease her. And, if you will go, her aunt will give in, I know."

"I'm not sure," Primrose declared with dainty hesitation, "whether I want to go or not. I am certain, Phil, I shall be a worse rebel than ever, afterward."

"Nay, Primrose, when you see the gallant gentlemen who have come over to help the King restore peace and order, and punish some of the ringleaders, you will be convinced of the great mistake the Americans have made. And then we shall be friends again."

"I wish you were all going back to England with General Howe!"

"And you give me up so easily--your own brother?" with a pathetic upbraiding in his tone.

"Only a half-brother! And the Tory half I can't like. The other, the Henry half----"

"Well----" studying her mischievous, dancing eyes.

"I like that--a little," demurely.

"I shall be patient, sweet darling. I have come to love you dearly--your mother's half, and your father's half."

She glanced up with her warm, frank heart shining in her eyes, and he kissed her fondly.

"When thou lovest me well I shall know it by one sign: thou wilt kiss me of thy own accord."

She had to steel her heart hard when he adopted the old phraseology, and smiled in that beseeching manner.

"We shall not be converted, little Primrose," said Polly Wharton. "I shall think of Allin at Valley Forge, and thou of thy splendid Quaker cousin that so adroitly escaped the snare set for him. And we shall twist the festivities about. When they drink to the King and the redcoat army, we shall say to ourselves, 'Washington and the buff and blue.' And when we dance, for there will be your brother and young Vane and Captain Fordham, so we are sure of three partners, and as we whirl around we shall say to ourselves 'Hurrah for the flag of the thirteen colonies!'"

"It looks quite patriotic that way," answered Primrose archly.

It ended by their going. Mrs. Stuart and Sally, who were hardly Whig or Tory, promised to keep watch of them. And though Miss Auchmuty had been crowned Queen of Beauty at the tournament, and there were the fair Shippen women and the Chews, men paused to look at the sweet, golden-haired child who was so simply gowned that her dress did not detract from her beauty. And long afterward, when she was an old lady, she could recount the famous scene that ended, as one might say, the British possession of Philadelphia. For even as they danced amid the gleaming lights and fragrant flowers, a premonition of what was to come, although unexpected, and a bloodless victory, occurred. The redoubts were sharply attacked by a daring body of rebels, but so well protected that surprise was not possible.

Sir Henry Clinton arrived and the accomplished Andre was made his adjutant general. Then came the news that a French fleet would sail up the Delaware. Sir Henry prepared to leave at once, and the city was shaken with both joy and alarm. At midnight, on the 18th of June, the British stole away silently, to the great surprise of the inhabitants, who knew Washington was preparing to descend upon them and feared a bloody battle, for now the Continentals were well equipped, well drilled, and strong in numbers.

Primrose sat poring over a book of verse. For a wonder there was no one in to play cards. Madam Wetherill had been a little indisposed for several days.

"Do go to bed, child," she said rather sharply. "Thou wilt turn into a book next."

"I hope it will have a new, bright cover and not this musty, old one."

"I dare say, Miss Vanity."

"Good-night," and she made her pretty courtesy. Then she stood still at the quick knock. Barely was the door opened when Captain Nevitt rushed in and caught her to his heart.

"Little Primrose, darling Primrose, for I have learned to love thee dearly, I have come to say good-by. We are ordered to New York and leave at once. When I shall see thee again I cannot tell, but I may send, and will write thee letters and letters. Hast thou one kiss that I may take with me, holding all the sweetness of generous accord?"

"Oh, do not go! do not go! I have teased thee often! I have tried not to love thee, but, after all----" And she was sobbing in his arms.

"It is a soldier's duty, dear. Wish me well, and I will take it as a guerdon."

"Oh, I cannot wish thee well to fight against my country. My heart is torn in two."

Her cry pierced his inmost soul. With all his love and persuasion she had kept her loyalty. Gifts and pleasures had not won her. There was a great gulf still between them.

"But for love's sake."

"If your men win I shall have no country. If they lose----"

"And if I should be lost----"

"Oh, Heaven bring thee back to me again!"

There were Captain Fordham and the lieutenant thanking Madam Wetherill for her charming hospitality. But Philemon Henry Nevitt could only wring her hand, as his eyes