After this event there was continual excitement in the city, and General Clinton returned to it at once. He called in the little army he had cutting gra.s.s for winter fodder, and with twenty thousand troops shut himself up in New York.

"For once the man has been employing himself well and wiselike," said Madame Semple. "He has cut all the gra.s.s, and cured all the gra.s.s round about Rye, and White Plains, and New Roch.e.l.le, and East Chester, and a few other places; and he has left it all ahint him. What a wiselike wonderfu' man is General Sir Henry Clinton!"

"And the rebels have carried off the last wisp o' hay he made," said the Elder angrily. "They were on the vera heels o' our soldiers. It's beyond believing! It's just the maist mortifying thing that ever happened us."

Madame looked pityingly at her husband, raised her shoulders to emphasize the look, and then in a thin voice, quavering a little with her weakness and emotion, began to sing to herself from that old translation of the Psalms so dear to every Scottish heart:

"Kings of great armies foiled were And forced to flee away; And women who remained at home Did distribute the prey.

G.o.d's chariots twenty thousand are, Thousands of angels strong."

"Janet! Janet! Will you sing some kind o' calming verse? The Lord is naething but a _man of war_ in your thoughts. Do you believe He goes through the earth wi' a bare, lifted sword in His hand?"

"Whiles He does, Alexander. And the light from that lifted sword lightens the earth. I hae tasted o' the goodness of the Lord; I know of old His tender mercy, and His loving kindness, but in these awfu' days, I am right glad to think o' Him as _The Lord of Hosts!_ He is sure to be on the right side, and He can make of one man a thousand, and of a handful, a great mult.i.tude."

"It's a weary warld."

"But just yet there's nae better one, my dear auld man! So we may as well tak' cheerfully what good comes to-day, there will be mair to-morrow, or I'm far wrang."

If Janet's "to-morrow" be taken as she meant it to be taken, her set time was long enough for other startling events. Tryon's expedition was ordered back to New York, and Quentin Macpherson brought the news of his own return. He did not meet with as warm a welcome as he hoped for.

Madame was contemptuous and indignant over the ravaging character of the expedition. The Elder said they had "alienated royalists without intimidating rebels"; and Maria looked critically at the young soldier, and thought him less handsome than she had supposed: the expedition, so cowardly and cruel, had been demoralizing and had left its mark on the young man. He was disappointed, jealous, offended; he had an overweening opinion of the n.o.bility of his family and not a very modest one as to his own deserts. He was also tenacious, and the thing he desired grew in value as it receded from his grasp; so, although angry at Maria, he had no idea of relinquishing his suit for her hand.

She kept as much as possible out of his company, and this was not difficult. The troops were constantly on the alert, for one piece of bad news, for the royalists, followed another. A month after the capture of Stony Point, the rebels took Paulus Hook in a midnight attack. This fort had been most tenaciously held by the English from the earliest days of the war, it being the only safe landing-place in Jersey for their foraging parties. It was within sight of New York, and almost within reach of its guns. The shame and anger of the royalist burghers was unspeakable; they would have openly insulted the military, if they had dared to do so.

About two weeks later came the news of Sullivan's sweeping victory over the Six Nations of Indians under Sir John Johnson and the Indian Chief, Brandt. The Americans turned their country into a desert, and drove the whole people in headlong flight as far as Niagara. This Autumn also was rendered remarkable by the astonishing success of the American privateers; never had they been at once so troublesome and so fortunate.

So that there was plenty for every one to talk about, if there had been neither lovers nor love-making in the land. But it seemed as if Love regarded the movement of great armies and the diplomacies of great nations, as the proper background and vehicles for his expression. While Medway was talking, or fishing, or hunting with Clinton, he was thinking of Maria. While Macpherson was inspecting his company, he was thinking of Maria. While Harry was traversing the woods and the waters, he was thinking of Maria. And while Neil Semple was drawing out t.i.tles, and making arguments in Court, he was always conscious of the fact that his happiness was bound up in the love of Agnes Bradley. On every side also, other lovers were wooing and wedding. The sound of trumpets did not sadden the music of the marriage feast, nor did the bridal dance tarry a moment for the tramp of marching soldiers. All the chances and changes of war were but ministers of Love, and did his pleasure.

In the meantime John Bradley was st.i.tching his saddles, and praying and working for Washington, the idol of his hopes, quite unconscious of how completely his home had been confiscated to the service of love and lovers. No house in all the restless city seemed less likely to be the rendezvous of meeting hearts; and yet quite naturally, and by the force of the simplest circ.u.mstances, it had a.s.sumed this character. It began with Maria. Her beauty and charm had given her three lovers, who were, all of them, men with sufficient character to find, or to make a way to her presence. But every movement, whether of the body or the soul, takes, by a certain law, the direction in which there is the least resistance; and the road of least resistance to Maria, was by way of Agnes Bradley.

At the Semple house, Madame was a barrier Medway could not pa.s.s. She told Maria plainly, "no English lord should cross her doorstep." She could not believe in his good heart, or his good sense, and she asked scornfully, "how a close friend of General Clinton's could be fit company for an American girl? He has nae charm for touching pitch without being defiled," she said, "and I'll not hae him sitting on my chairs, and putting his feet on my hearth, and fleching and flattering you in my house while my name is Janet Semple. And you may tell him I said so."

And in order to prevent Madame giving her own message, Maria was compelled to confess to Lord Medway, her grandmother's antagonism. He was politely sorry for her dislike to Englishmen--for he preferred to accept it as a national, rather than a personal feeling; but it did not interfere with his intentions. There was Miss Bradley. She had a kind feeling toward him, and Maria spent a large part of every day with her friend. By calling on Miss Bradley he could see Miss Semple. As the best means toward this end he cultivated Agnes through her father. He talked with him, listened to his experiences, and gave him subscriptions for Wesley Chapel, and for the prisoners he could find means to help. He made such a good impression on John Bradley, that he told his daughter he felt sure the good seed he had sown would bring forth good fruit in its season.

Macpherson had a certain welcome at the Semples, but he could not strain it. Madame was not well, company fatigued her, and, though he did not suspect this reason, she was feeling bitterly that she must give up her life-long hospitality--she could not afford to be hospitable any longer.

She did not tell Maria this, she said rather, "the laddie wearied her mair than once a week. She wasna strong, and she didna approve o' his excuses for General Clinton. I could tear them all to ravlins," she said, angrily, "but I wad tear mysel' to pieces doing it. He has the reiving, reiving Highland spirit, and nae wonder! The Macphersons have carried fire and sword for centuries."

As for Harry Deane, he, of course, could not come at all, though Madame might have borne him more than once a week, if she had been trusted. But Harry was as uncertain as the wind. He came when no one looked for him, and when he was expected, he was miles away. So there was no possible neutral ground for Love but such as Agnes in her good-nature and wisdom would allow. But Agnes was not difficult. Neil Semple had taught her the sweetness and clemency of love, and she would not deprive Maria of those pleasant hours, with which so many days were brightened that would otherwise have been dull and monotonous. For, during the summer's heat the royalist families, who could afford to do so, left the city, and the little tea parties at Agnes Bradley's were nearly the only entertainment at Maria's command.

These were informal and often delightful. Lord Medway knew that about five o'clock Agnes would be setting the tea-tray, and he liked to sit beside Maria and watch her do it. And sometimes Maria made the tea, and poured his out, and put in the sugar and cream with such enchanting smiles and ways that he vowed never tea in this world tasted so refreshing and delicious. And not infrequently Quentin Macpherson would come clattering in when the meal had begun, take a chair at the round table, and drinking his tea a little awkwardly, soothe his self-esteem by an aggressive self-importance. For Lord Medway's nonchalant manner provoked him to such personal a.s.sertion as always mortified when the occasion was over. About half-past seven was Neil's hour, and then the conversation became general, and love found all sorts of tender occasions; every glance of meeting eyes, and every clasp of meeting hands, bearing the one sweet message, "I love you, dear!"

It was usually in the morning that Harry came springing up the garden path. There was neither work nor lessons that day, nor any pretense of them. Harry had too much to tell, and both Agnes and Maria hung upon his words as if they held the secret of life and happiness. Now, granted two beautiful girls with a moderate amount of freedom, and four lovers in that pleasantly painful condition between hope and fear that people in love make, if it is not made for them, and put all in a position where they have the accessories of sunlight and moonlight, a shady garden, a n.o.ble river, the scent of flowers, the goodness of fine fruit, the pleasures of the tea-table, and if these young people do not advance in the sweet study their hearts set them, they must be either coldly indifferent, or stupidly selfish.

This company of lovers was however neither stupid nor selfish. In the midst of war's alarms, while fleets and armies were gathering for battle, they were attending very faithfully to their own little drama.

Quentin Macpherson had one advantage over both his rivals: he went to the Semple house every Sunday evening, and then he had Maria wholly under his influence. He walked in the garden with her, she made his tea for him, he sat by her side during the evening exercise, sung the psalm from the same Bible, and then, rising with the family, stood, as one of them, while the Elder offered his anxious yet trustful prayer. It was Madame who had thought of connecting this service with the young soldier. "It is little good he can get from thae Episcopals," she said, "and it's your duty, Alexander, to gie him a word in season," and though Macpherson was mainly occupied in watching Maria, and listening to her voice, he had been too well grounded in his faith not to be sensible of the sacredness of those few minutes, and to be insensibly influenced by their spirit.

Neil was never present. When the tea-table was cleared, he went quietly out, and those who cared to follow him would have been led to the little Wesleyan Chapel on John Street. He always took the same seat in a pew near the door, and there he worshipped for an hour or two the beautiful daughter of John Bradley. He was present to watch them enter. Sometimes the father went to the pulpit, sometimes he went with Agnes to the singing-pew. And to hear these two translating into triumphant song the holy aspirations and longings of Watts and Wesley, was reason enough for any one who loved music to be in Wesley Chapel when they were singing together.

All who have ever loved, all who yet dream of love, can tell the further story of those summer days for themselves. They have only to keep in mind that it had a constant obligato of trumpets and drums and marching men, and a constant refrain, made up of all the rumors of war, victory, and defeat; good news and bad news, fear, and hope, and sighing despair.

At length the warm weather gave place to the dreamy hours of the Indian summer. A heavenly veil of silvery haze lay over the river and the city; a veil which seemed to deaden every sound but the shrill chirping of the crickets; and a certain sense of peace calmed for a short time the most restless hearts. The families who had been at various places during the hot months returned to their homes in New York, with fresh dreams of conquest and pleasure, for as yet the terrors of the coming winter were not taken into thought or account. The war was always going to be "over very soon," and General Clinton a.s.sured the b.u.t.terflies of his military court they might eat, drink, and be merry, for he intended at once to "strike such a blow as would put an end to confederated rebellion for ever." And they gladly believed him.

In less than a week Maria received half-a-dozen invitations to dinners, dances, card parties, and musical recitations. She began at once to look over her gowns, and Agnes came every day to the Semple house to a.s.sist in remodeling and retr.i.m.m.i.n.g them. They were delightful days long to be remembered. Both the Elder and Madame enjoyed them quite as much as the girls; and even Neil entered into the discussions about colors, and the suitability of guimpes and fringes, with a smiling gravity that was very attractive.

"Uncle Neil thinks he is taking depositions and weighing evidence; see how the claims of pink and amber perplex him!" and then Neil would laugh a little, and decide in such haste that he generally contradicted his first opinion.

The Sunday in this happy week was made memorable by the news which Quentin Macpherson brought. "Some one," he said, "had whispered to General Clinton that it was the intention of Washington to unite with the French army and besiege New York, and Clinton had immediately ordered the troops garrisoning Rhode Island to return to the city with all possible speed. And would you believe it, Elder?" said the young soldier, "they came so hastily that they left behind them all the wood they had cut for winter, and all the forage and stores provided for six thousand men. No sooner were they out of sight than the American army slipped in and took possession of everything; and now it appears that it was a false report--the general is furious, and is looking for the author of it."

"He needna look very far," answered Semple. "There is a man that dips his sop in the dish wi' him, and that coils him round his finger wi' a mouthful o' words, wha could maist likely give him the whole history o'

the matter, for he'll be at the vera beginning o' it."

"Do you mean to say, sir, that our Commander-in-Chief has a traitor for his friend and confidant and adviser?"

"I mean to say all o' that. But where will you go and not find Washington's emissaries beguiling thae stupid English?"

"You cannot call the English stupid, sir."

"I can and I will. They are sae sure o' their ain power and wisdom that they are mair than stupid. They are ridic'lus. It makes them the easy tools of every clever American that is willing to take a risk--and they maist o' them are willing."

"But when the English realize----"

"Aye, _when_ they realize!"

"Well, sir, they came to realization last month splendidly in that encounter with the privateer, Paul Jones. It was the grandest seafight ever made between seadogs of the same breed. Why, the muzzles of their guns touched each other; the ships were nearly torn to pieces, and three-fourths of the men killed or wounded. Gentlemen, too, as well as fighters though but lowborn men, for I am told they began the combat with a courtesy worthy of the days of chivalry. Both captains bowed and remained uncovered until the foremost guns of the English ship bore on the starboard quarter of the American. Then Captain Paul Jones put on his hat, as a sign that formalities were over, and the battle began, and raged until the English ship was sinking; then she surrendered."

"Mair's the pity!" said the Elder, "she ought to have gone down fighting."

"She saved the great fleet of merchantmen she was convoying from the Baltic; while she was fighting the American every one of them got safe away and into port, and the American ship went down two days afterward--literally died of her wounds and went down to her grave. And by the bye, Mr. Semple, this Paul Jones is a countryman of ours--a Scotchman."

"Aye, is he!--from Kirkcudbright. I was told he had an intention o'

sacking Edinburgh. Fair, perfect nonsense!"

"An old friend of the Macphersons--Stuart of Invernalyle--was sought out to defend the town. I had a letter from the family."

"Weel, Stuart could tak' that job easy. The west wind is a vera reliable one in the Firth o' Edinburgh, and it is weel able, and extremely likely, to defend its ain city. In fact, it did do so, for Paul couldna win near, and so he went 'north about' and found the Baltic fleet with the _Serapis_ guarding it. Weel, then, he had his fight, though he lost the plunder. But it was a ridic'lus thing in any mortal, menacing the capital o' Scotland wi' three brigs that couldna have sacked a Fife fishing village! And what is mair," added the old man with a tear glistening in his eyes, "he wouldna have hurt Leith or Edinburgh. Not he! Scots may love America, but they never hate their ain dear Scotland; they wouldna hurt the old land, not even in thought. If put to the question, all o' them would say, as David o' Israel and David o'

Scotland baith said, 'let my right hand forget its cunning----' you ken the rest, and if you don't, it will do you good to look up the 137th Psalm."

The stir of admiration concerning these and other events--all favorable to the Americans--irritated General Clinton and made him much less courteous in his manner to both friends and foes. And, moreover, it was not pleasant for him to know that General Washington was entertaining the first French Minister to the United States at Newburgh, and that John Jay was then on his way to Madrid to complete with the Spanish government terms of recognition and alliance. So that even through the calmness of these Indian summer days there were definite echoes of defeat and triumph, whether expressed publicly or discussed so privately that the bird of the air found no whisper to carry.

One day at the end of October, Agnes did not come until the afternoon, and Maria rightly judged that Harry was in New York. There was no need to tell her so, the knowledge was an intuition, and when Agnes said to Madame, "she had a friend, and would like Maria to bring the pelerine they were retr.i.m.m.i.n.g to her house, and spend the evening with her," no objection was made. "I shall miss you baith; so will the Elder," she answered, "but I dare say that English lord is feeling I have had mair than my share o' your company."

"Oh, Madame!" said Agnes, "it is not the English lord, it is a true American boy from--up the river," and Agnes opened her eyes wide as she lifted them to Madame's, and there was some sort of instantaneous and satisfactory understanding. Then she added, "Will you ask Mr. Neil Semple to come for Maria about eight o'clock?"

"There will be nae necessity to ask him. His feet o' their ain accord will find their way to your house, Agnes," said Madame. "Before he has told himsel' where he is going he will be at your doorstep. He must be very fond o' his niece Maria--or of somebody else," and the old lady smiled pleasantly at the blushing girl. Then both girls kissed Madame and stopped at the garden gate to speak to the Elder, and so down the road together full of happy expectation, divining nothing of _One_ who went forth with them. How should they? Neither had ever seen the face of sorrow or broke with her the ashen crust. They were not aware of her presence and they heard not the stir of her black mantle trailing upon the dust and the dead leaves as she walked at their side.

"Harry will be here for tea," said Agnes, when they reached the house, and a soft, delightful sense of pleasure to come pervaded the room as they sat sewing and talking until it was time to set the table. And as soon as Agnes began this duty there was a peculiar whistle, and Maria glanced at Agnes, threw aside her work, and went down the garden to meet her lover. He was tying his boat to the little jetty, and when the duty was done they sat down on the wooden steps and talked of this, and that, and of everything but love, and yet everything they said was a confession of their interest in each other. But the truest love has often the least to say, and those lovers are to be doubted and pitied who must always be seeking a.s.surances, for thus they sow the path of love with thorns. Far happier are they who leave something unsaid, who dare to enter into that living silence which clasps hearts like a book of songs unsung. They will sing them all, but not all at once. One by one, as their hour comes, they will learn them together.

That calm, sweet afternoon was provocative of this very mood. Maria and Harry sat watching the river rocking the boat, and listening to the chirruping of the crickets, and both were satisfied with their own silence. It was a heavenly hour, hushed and halcyon, full of that lazy happiness which is the most complete expression of perfect love. When Agnes called, they walked hand in hand up the garden, and at the tea-table came back again into the world. Harry had much to tell them, and was full of confidence in the early triumph of the Americans.

"Then I hope we shall have peace, and all be friends again," said Maria.

She spoke a little wearily, as if she had no faith in her words, and Harry answered her doubt rather than her hope.