Andrew promised to come in again when he was off duty, and Primrose reluctantly let him go. Yet she watched him with glistening eyes, and could hardly decide how much was glory and how much tears.

CHAPTER XVI.

LOVE AND TRUE LOVE.

"A very plain stiff Quaker downstairs, Primrose, who demands to see thee alone. There is a sharp air about her. I think she must be one of those the madam spoke of who are importuning about repairs and want rents for nothing."

"To see me?" asked Primrose in surprise. "I have nothing to do with the houses."

"She would not allow her business was with anyone else. She does not look like one of the begging women with whom the city is overrun."

Primrose walked slowly down the wide staircase full of curiosity. Polly Wharton asked for her sometimes, and Anabella Morris.

The visitor had on the close hat with the big round crown that but few of the younger women wore, and rarely in black. Her gown was straight and plain, the long sleeves coming down over her ungloved hands, and a square of gray twilled silk crossed over her bosom. She did not stir until Primrose was well into the room and then she turned.

"Oh, Rachel!" was the surprised exclamation.

Rachel Morgan stared at the vision before her. An unwonted envy stirred her. It seemed as if Faith grew plainer every day, and this girl took all the beauty!

"How are they all at the farm?" Primrose inquired with pretty graciousness. "Is Uncle James quite well and strong?"

"How could one be well with such a great sorrow?" the visitor asked sternly, fixing her eyes on Primrose, who shrank from the hard gaze, and felt her heart beat in strange protest.

"But--Andrew is well--is here----"

"We heard a part of the army had been retained, and a neighbor hath seen Andrew Henry in the attire of the sons of cruelty and worldliness, and that bitter spirit toward the law that Mr. Penn besought his brethren not to use. But no one seems to heed duty or obedience any more."

Primrose stood gazing as if the voice held her in a half-frightened thrall.

"He hath been here, in this house?"

"Yes, yesterday," with some hesitation.

"And he will come again?"

"Oh, yes!" There was a confident ring in her voice that angered the other.

"The world and its sins hath grown greatly upon him. I will venture to say he feels more at home amid these gauds and giddy flowered damasks and soft cushions and numerous things the elect would term idols of the carnal sort," glancing around. "And the vain women who frequent houses like these. I see thou art tricked out with much worldly vanity, and thy father was one of the straitest Friends. How canst thou do it?"

Primrose opened her eyes wide at this tirade and shook back the curly, glistening hair that she did not yet wear high on her head, for Madam Wetherill hated to have her leave the cloisters of girlhood. And her frock was white muslin, lengthened down a little and the piece covered with an artful ruffle. There was a silver buckle at her belt, and on each shoulder a knot of blue ribbon.

She hardly knew what to say, but presently she ventured--"Truly, Cousin Rachel, I do not feel vain. I seldom think of my gowns."

"I am in no mood to discuss attire," as if Primrose had begun it. "I come to thee on an urgent errand. Thou knowest, perhaps, that Andrew hath angered his father beyond everything. Instead of heeding the admonition to come out from the world and have no part in its wickedness, he hath all winter been a go-between, encouraging rebellion by carrying supplies to the camp at Valley Forge----"

"It was n.o.ble and kindly to take a great danger upon himself, to feed sick and starving men, and to clothe their poor bodies. It surely made one's heart bleed to hear of their sufferings. Nay, thou shalt not say hard and bitter things against him!" cried Primrose spiritedly.

"The truth is wholesome, if it hath a bitter tang. We surmised that he found encouragement in this house, and had beforetime listened to thy childish and unreasoning folly. And he made himself a criminal in the eyes of the law. His father's house was searched, and a man of Belial abode with us to see if he would not come back. And the two fine animals and the market wagon were carried off. If they had found him it would have gone hard with him."

"But they did not," Primrose said triumphantly.

"Thou didst see him then?"

"Yes. And we knew--we saw him safely on the old Perkiomen road. Then someone came the next day to inquire about him, so we know he had eluded them. And now they have marched in and Philadelphia is free!"

"There were anxious days and nights about him until the word came that he had joined the camp of rebels under Washington."

"But long ago he said if the country needed him he would go. And there was Penn to take his place."

"Penn will be a good son to my uncle. But, after all, it is Andrew's place. He is needed. His mother's heart is sore for him, and I can see that Uncle James is not at rest. So I have put my pride in my pocket as a sinful thing, and come to thee. Perhaps thou mayest have some influence over him. Wilt thou try to persuade him?"

Primrose looked down on the floor as she laced her slim hands together.

"I will tell thee the whole story. He was to marry me. Aunt Lois wished it and said I was a daughter after her own heart. I should have cared for them as if I had been an own child. Uncle James had spoken to him and he had promised to consider. At the meeting it had been talked of as most proper and suitable. I had not much money, for our small farm hath to be divided among three. But Uncle James thought a good wife better than wealth."

Primrose stared in blank amazement. Had not Andrew said there was a condition he could not fulfill? Was it this?

"I should have made him a good wife and roused him out of that dreaminess he allowed to hang about him. And because it was to be so, I plead with Uncle James until he relented. He hath promised me to take him back----"

"But he will not leave the army until they have driven the English across the seas again. And if thou couldst see him so straight and tall and proud, holding up his head as he never did before! And all his heart is in it."

"But the Lord made him a son and not a soldier. It is against our belief. We have come out from the world, and are not to fight its sinful battles. He hath a higher duty. Thou hast a smooth and persuasive tongue, and if thou wouldst use it to restore peace between a sad father and wayward son, and a.s.sure him he hath only to come back and fulfill his promise and all will be peace--if thou carest to do a good work, this will be one."

Rachel Morgan rose, and looked so steadily, so sternly at Primrose Henry that she felt a shrinking all over her.

"Thou wilt do this," she said. "It seems as if thou hadst cared a little for Aunt Lois and thy dead father's brother, and if thou hast any love thou wilt try to restore peace."

"I will tell him what thou sayest," in a weak tone as if she was hardly persuaded.

Rachel caught her hand, which was soft as a rose leaf, and wrung it in hers until she could have cried with pain.

"Nay, not in that cold way. Thou hast the eyes and the tongue to move whomever thou wilt, and he set strange store by thee. Men often yield to a honeyed voice. Coax him, convince him it is his duty. Otherwise their sorrow and, perhaps, their death may be on his hands, and neither wilt thou be altogether free. That was my errand and the Lord gave me strength to come, though women do not generally plead for their lovers."

"I will try," Primrose said, much moved.

But she sat by herself after Rachel had left her, thinking the matter over with a curious protest that she did not understand. Why should she shrink from his marrying Rachel? She had seen many lovers through the winter, and Anabella had poured into her ears a great deal of foolish-sounding flattery, and delight on her part, that had caused Primrose much wonder. And now her gay captain had followed the fortunes of Sir Henry Clinton, and she was in despair, though he had promised to return.

But she asked Madam Wetherill what she ought to do. The lady gave an odd little smile.

"You must tell him, since you have consented. But it will not change his intentions. His enlisting was no sudden notion, if he was forced into it by circ.u.mstances. I wonder at Mistress Rachel making this appeal."

"Do you think he ought to marry her?" Primrose asked timidly.

"That is a question for him to answer, my child."