"'T is somewhat late, little sister, to think of that," her brother replied, caressing her curly head with the loving touch she had known ever since the childhood days. Then bending his lips close to her ear, he whispered, "See--you are making him unhappy."

At this she glanced over her shoulder at her husband, who had walked to the hearth, and stood looking into the fire.

"Come, little girl, cheer up," said Jack, "for to-night, at least. You are to have a little visit with him before he returns to his quarters.

And before to-morrow noon he will be on the road to Boston."

With a long, sobbing sigh, she released him; then, as she wiped the tears from her eyes, she said with a wan smile, "It is hard--cruelly hard, to have one's heart so torn in opposite ways."

He knew her meaning, and thought, as he went away, how small was their own grief compared with that of poor Hugh, who, utterly unmanned, had immured himself in his quarters.

Dorothy stole to the hearth, where stood the silent figure of her husband; and as he still did not speak, she ventured to reach out and steal a timid hand within the one hanging by his side.

His fingers instantly prisoned it in a close clasp, and so they remained for a time looking silently into the fire. Presently he sighed, and drawing the chain and ruby ring from his pocket, said very gently, "Will you wear this ring, sweetheart, until such time as I can get one more suitable?"

"Aye--but I'd sooner not wear any other," she replied, looking wistfully at him,--awed and troubled by this new manner of his.

"Would you?" And he smiled as he fastened the chain about her neck.

"Then I shall be obliged to have the half of it taken away, in order to make a proper fit for that small finger. But you must let me put on a plain gold band, as well, so that all may be in proper form."

She caught his hand and laid it against her cheek, while the light of the burning wood caught in the ruby ring, making it gleam like a ruddier fire against the folds of her dark-green habit.

"Why are you so unhappy?" she asked.

"That I am not, sweet little wife," he answered, drawing her to him, "save when I see you unhappy."

"But I am not unhappy," she protested, adding brokenly, "except that--that--"

"Except that you cherish a warm love for kindred and home, and one it would be most unnatural for you to be lacking," he interrupted. "But never fear, little one,"--and he stroked her hair much as her brother had done--"you will not be unhappy with me, if you love me; and that you say you do, and so I know it for a truth--thank G.o.d. This war cannot last very long, and I've lost all heart to care whether King or colony win. To tell the truth,"--and he laughed as he bent over to kiss her--"I fear my heart has turned traitor enough to love best the cause of her I love. So it is as well that I send in my resignation, which is certain to be accepted; and we'll go straight to my dear old home among the Devonshire hills, and be happily out of the way of the strife. And when it is over, we can often cross the sea to your own home, and perhaps your brother and his wife--if I can ever make my peace with her--will also come to us. And so, sweetheart, you see the parting is not forever--nor for very long."

Thus he went on soothing and cheering her as he seated himself again in the big chair by the hearth and drew her to his knee. Presently, and as if to divert her thoughts, he said: "Come--tell me something of your family. I have seen them all, as you know, but there are two of its members with whom I never had speech."

Dorothy puckered her brows and looked at him questioningly.

"They are wide apart as to age," he added, smiling at her perplexity,--"for one of them is a sweet-faced old lady, and the other is a lovely little girl with long yellow locks and wonderful blue eyes.

She was with you that eventful day at the cave." And he laughed softly at the thought of what that day had brought about.

"Why, the old lady was Aunt Lettice, and the little girl is her granddaughter--'Bitha Hollis, my cousin."

"She looks a winsome little thing--this 'Bitha," he said, happy to see the brightness come to Dorothy's face.

She was smiling, for the names had brought visions of her dear old home, and she seemed to see all the loving faces in the fire before her.

"Yes--and she is a dear child, and full of the oddest fancies." And now Dorothy laughed outright as some of 'Bitha's queer sayings came to her.

She went on to tell her husband of these; and when Jack returned half an hour later to escort Captain Southorn to his room, he found the two of them laughing happily together.

CHAPTER x.x.xIV

The next morning--although at rather a late hour for her--Dorothy arose, feeling greatly refreshed by her sound and dreamless sleep.

While she was yet dressing, her brother rapped on the door, and told her she was to go to the little room near by, where supper had been served the night before, and that Dolly--the sutler's wife--would have breakfast ready for her.

An hour later, as she stood at the open window of her room, drinking in the fresh morning air, still bearing the odor of fallen leaves wetted by the night damps, she saw her brother, with Captain Southorn and several other men, chatting together a short distance away.

Jack was the first to turn his eyes in her direction, and seeing her, he smiled and waved his hand, at which Captain Southorn turned about and hurried toward her.

He was soon standing under the window, and reaching up took possession of one of the small hands resting upon the sill.

For an instant neither of them spoke, but Dorothy's dark eyes smiled shyly into the blue ones uplifted to her face.

"And it is really true," he said at last, with an air of conviction.

"Do you know, little one, that when I awakened this morning, I was fearful at first that I 'd been dreaming it all. But knowing now what I do, how can I have the heart to go away and leave you again? Cannot you come to Boston with me now--this very day?"

She shook her head. "No, no,--I must not do that. I must go back to Dorchester, to see Mary and Mistress Knollys once more. And, too"--with a blush--"I could not go without any raiment besides this."

And she touched the folds of her riding-habit.

He stood a minute as if thinking, and then asked if she would come out for a short walk.

"Most a.s.suredly," was her smiling response; and turning from the window, she was not long in putting on her hat.

As she was about leaving the room, she noticed her riding-whip lying on the table where she had tossed it upon her arrival the previous evening. It was a gift from her father, and one she prized very highly; and fearing that the sight of it might excite the cupidity of some of the servants, she picked it up, and then pa.s.sed quickly out to the porch.

Here she encountered several of the officers whom she had seen talking with her brother a short time before. They now drew aside to let her go by, which she did hurriedly, her eyes lowered under the shadowy plumes of her riding-hat, and oblivious of the admiring glances they stole at her.

Many of the inmates of Washington's headquarters had become acquainted with her little romance; and so, unknown to herself, she was an object of much interest. It was for this reason also, as well as on account of the responsibility a.s.sumed with regard to him by Washington himself, that the English captain was occupying a somewhat unusual position amongst the American officers.

Finding her brother and husband together, the two coming to meet her at the porch, Dorothy asked after Hugh, and was told by Jack that he had gone with a message to some of the outposts, but would return shortly.

"And is he well this morning, Jack?"

"Oh, yes," her brother answered lightly. "You will not go far away, of course," he added, "nor stay long, else I shall have to come or send for you."

"Only a short distance;" and Captain Southorn motioned to the wood that lay not far from the rear of the house.

"Who is this Hugh?" he inquired, as they walked slowly along, the dry leaves crackling under their feet. "Is he the sergeant, Hugh Knollys, who went with your brother yesterday?"

"Yes;" and something in his tone impelled her to add, "and I've known him all my life."

"Oh, yes," he said, knitting his brows a little, as he kicked the leaves before him, "I remember right well. It was he I used to see riding about the country with you so much last summer."

"He is like my own brother," she explained quickly, not feeling quite comfortable in something she detected in his manner of speech.

"Is he?" now looking at her smilingly. "And does he regard you in the same fraternal fashion?"

"Why, of course," she answered frankly. "Hugh and I have always known one another; we have gone riding and boating together for years, have quarrelled and made up, just as Jack and I have done. Only," and now she spoke musingly, "I cannot remember that Jack ever quarrelled much with me."