"There will not be much friendship this generation," he said; "things have happened between England and America which men will remember until they forget themselves."

After tea, Harry said, "Maria is going with me to the river to see if the boat is safe," and Agnes, smiling, watched them a little way; then turned again to her china, and without any conscious application began to sing softly the aria of an old English anthem by King:

"I went down into the garden of nuts, to see whether the pomegranates budded--to see whether the pomegranates--the pomegranates budded,"[1]

but suddenly, even as her voice rose and fell sweetly to her thoughts, a strange chill arrested the flow of the melody; and she was angry at herself because she had inadvertently wondered, "if the buds would ever open full and flowerwise?"

[1] "Solomon's Song," 6:11.

In about half an hour Agnes, having finished her house duties, went to the door opening into the garden and called Harry and Maria. They turned toward the house when they heard her voice, and she remained in the open door to watch them come through the tall box-shrubs and the many-colored asters. And as she did so, Quentin Macpherson reached the front door--which also stood open--and perceiving Agnes, he did not knock, but waited for her to turn inward. Consequently he saw Harry and Maria, and did not fail to notice the terms of affectionate familiarity between them. The fire of jealousy was kindled in a moment; he strode forward to meet the company, and was received with the usual friendly welcome; for such a situation had often been spoken of as possible, and Agnes was not in the least disconcerted.

"My friend, Mr. Harry Deane, Captain Macpherson," she said, without hesitation, and the Captain received the introduction with his most military air. Then Agnes set herself to keep the conversation away from the war, but that was an impossible thing; every incident of life somehow or other touched it, and before she realized the fact, Harry was deprecating Tryon's outrages in Connecticut, and Macpherson defending them on the ground that "the towns destroyed had fitted out most of the privateers which had so seriously interfered with English commerce. Both the building of the ships and the destruction of the towns for building them are natural incidents of war," he said, and then pointedly, "perhaps you are a native of Connecticut?"

"No," answered Harry, "I am a native of New York."

"Ah! I have not met you before."

"I am a great deal away----" then receiving from Agnes a look of anxious warning, he thought it best to take his leave. Agnes rose and went to the door with him, and Maria wished Captain Macpherson anywhere but in her society; especially as he began to ask her questions she did not wish to answer.

"So Miss Bradley has a lover?" he said, looking pointedly at the couple as they left the room.

"I used to think so once," answered Maria.

"But not now?"

"But not now. Mr. Deane is an old friend, a playmate even."

"I suppose he is a King's man?"

"Ask him; he is still standing at the gate. I talk to him on much pleasanter subjects."

"Love, for instance?"

"Perhaps."

"How can you be so cruel, Maria?"

"It is _Miss Semple's_ nature to be cruel."

The reproof snubbed him, and both were silent for some minutes; then the same kind of desultory fencing was renewed, and Maria felt the time to be long and the tension unendurable. She could have cried out with anger. Why had not Agnes let her go to the door with Harry? She had had no opportunity to bid him "good-bye"; and yet, even after Harry had gone, there Agnes stood at the gate, "watching for Uncle Neil, of course," thought Maria, "and no doubt she has a message for me; she might come and give it to me--very likely Harry is at the boat waiting for me--oh, dear! Why does she not come?"

With such thoughts urging her, the very att.i.tude of Agnes was beyond endurance. She stood at the gate as still as if she was a part of it, and at length Maria could bear the delay no longer.

"I wish to speak to Agnes," she said, "will you permit me a moment?"

"Certainly," he answered with an air of offense. "I fear I am in the way of some one or something."

"Oh, no, no!" cried Maria, decisively. "I only want to make her come in.

She says the night air is so unhealthy, and yet there she stands in it--bareheaded, too."

"It is an unusually warm evening."

"Yes, but you know there is the malaria. I shall bring her in a moment, you shall see how quickly I am obeyed."

In unison with these words, she rose in a hurry, and as she did so there came through the open window a little stone wrapped in white paper. If she had not moved, it would have fallen into her lap; as it was, it fell on the floor and almost at the feet of Macpherson. He lifted it, and went to the candle. It was a message, as he expected, and read thus:

_"Keep that Scot amused for an hour, and meet me at Semple's landing at nine o'clock. Harry."_

"Oh! Oh!" he said with an intense inward pa.s.sion. "I am to be amused! I am to be cajoled! deceived! _that Scot_ is to be used for some purpose, and by St. Andrew, I'll wager it is treason. This affair must be looked into--quick, too." With this thought he put the paper in his pocket, and followed Maria to the gate where she stood talking with Agnes.

"I will bid you good-night," he said with a purposed air of offense. "I am sure that I am an intruder on more welcome company."

He would listen to no explanations or requests. Maria became suddenly kind, and a.s.sumed the prettiest of her coaxing ways, but he knew she was only "amusing" him, and he would not respond to what he considered her base, alluring treachery.

"There, now, Maria! You have been very foolish," said Agnes. "Captain Macpherson is angry. You ought to have been particularly kind to him to-night--after Harry."

"You were so selfish, Agnes--so unreasonably selfish! You might have let me go to the gate with Harry. I never had a chance to say 'good-bye' to him; there you stood, watching for Uncle Neil, and I was on pins and needles of anxiety. Why didn't you stay with the man, and let me go to the gate?"

"If you must know why; I had some money to give Harry. Could I do that before Captain Macpherson?"

"I hate the man! I am glad he has gone! I hope he will never come again!"

"I do not think he will, Maria."

They went into the house thoroughly vexed with each other, and Maria said in a tone of pique or offense, "I wonder what delays my uncle! I wish he would come!"

In reality Neil was no later than usual, but Maria was quivering with disappointment and annoyance, and when he did arrive it was not possible for any one to escape the influence of an atmosphere charged with the miserable elements of frustrated happiness. Maria was not a girl to bear disagreeable things alone or in silence. She would talk only of Macpherson and his unwelcome visit; "but he always did come when he was not wanted," she said angrily. "Last Sunday when grandmother was sick, and I was writing a long letter to father, and n.o.body cared to see him at all, enter Captain Macpherson with his satisfied smile, and his clattering sword, and his provoking air of conferring a favor on us by his company. I hate the creature! And I think it is a dreadful thing to make set days for people's visits; we have all got to dislike Sunday afternoons, just for his sake!" and so on, with constant variations.

Fortunately Mr. Bradley came home soon after eight o'clock, and Maria would not make any further delay. She had many reasons for her hurry, but undoubtedly the chief one, was a feeling that Agnes ought not to have the pleasure of a conversation between her father and her lover, and probably a walk home with her, and then a walk back with Neil alone.

She would go at once, and she would not ask Agnes to go with her. If she was disappointed, it was only a just retribution for her selfishness about Harry. And though she noticed Agnes was depressed and cast down, she was not appeased; "However, I will come in the morning and make all right," she thought; "to-night Agnes may suffer a little. I will come in the morning and make all right."

Yes, she would come in the morning, but little she dreamed on what errand she would come. Still, Maria is not to be blamed over much; there is some truth in every reproach that is made.

CHAPTER VI.

THE INTERCEPTED MESSAGE.

While this unhappy interlude was pa.s.sing, a far greater sorrow was preparing. Captain Macpherson went at once to his colonel with the pebble-sent note. He told himself that his duty to his King and his colors demanded it, and that no harm could come to the two women except such as was reflected from the trouble that saucy young man might be ent.i.tled to. He had no objections to giving him trouble; he felt that he ought to be made to understand a little better what was due to an officer of the King. _"That Scot!"_ He flung his plaid pa.s.sionately over his shoulder and stamped his foot with the offended temper of centuries of Macphersons. As for Maria, he would not think of her. He could not know what the consequences of the interrupted tryst would be, but let her take them! A girl who could prefer quite a common-looking young man to himself needed a lesson. He said over and over that he had only done a duty he would have performed under any circ.u.mstances; and he kept reiterating the word "duty,"--still he knew right well that duty in this case had been powerfully seconded by jealousy and by his personal offense.

What action his colonel would take he knew not. He desired to be excused from any part in it, because of the Semple's hospitality to him. His request was granted; and then he went to his rooms hot with uncertain excitement. The colonel had no sentimental reasons for ignoring what might prove a valuable arrest. Nothing had provoked General Clinton more than the ubiquitous nature of Washington's spies. They were everywhere; they were untiring, unceasing and undaunted. The late reverses, which had mortified every English soldier, had been undoubtedly brought about by the false reports they spread,--no one knew by whose a.s.sistance,--and this night might be a turning-point in affairs.

He ordered ten picked men to wait for the boat at Semple's landing. The place was easily reached; they had but to walk to the bottom of the fence, climb over it, and secrete themselves in the little boathouse, or among the shrubbery, if it had yet foliage enough to screen them. He looked over his roll of suspects and found Madame Semple's name among them. Likely enough, her family sympathized with her. It would at least be prudent to secure the husband and son. If they were good royalists, they could easily prove it. Then he sat down to smoke and to drink brandy; he, too, had done his duty, and was not troubled at all about results. The Semples, to him, were only two or three out of sixty thousand reputed royalists in the city. If they were honest, they had little to fear; if they were traitors, they deserved all they would certainly get from Clinton in his present surly mood.

Quite unconscious of what was transpiring, John Bradley was eating a frugal supper of oatmeal and bread and cheese, and telling his daughter about a handsome saddle that was going up the river to "the man in all the world most worthy of it." Elder Semple was asleep, and Madame, lying in the darkness, was softly praying away her physical pain and her mental anxieties. Suddenly she heard an unusual stir and the prompt, harsh voices of men either quarreling or giving orders.

"It is on our ain place!" and a sick terror a.s.sailing her, she cried: "Wake up! Wake up, Alexander! There's men at the door, and angry men, and they're calling you!"