And Hanc.o.c.k went.

Meanwhile a British officer had been sent in advance of the troops to inquire for "Clark's parsonage." By mistake he asked for Clark's tavern, which news was brought to Hanc.o.c.k as he was debating whether to take Dorothy's advice or not. He waited no longer. With Adams he immediately took refuge in a thickly wooded hill back of the parsonage. An hour later Paul Revere returned to the house to report that after he left there, with two others, he had been captured by British officers. Having answered their questions evasively about the whereabouts of the patriots, he finally said: "Gentlemen, you have missed your aim; the bell's ringing, the town's alarmed. You are all dead men!" This so terrified the officers that, not one hundred yards further on, one of them mounted Revere's horse and rode off at top speed to give warning to the on-coming troops, while Revere went back to report to Hanc.o.c.k and Adams.

It was evidently unsafe for them to remain so near the scene of the struggle, and at daylight they were ready to start for the home of the Rev. Mr. Marrett in Woburn. Dorothy and Aunt Lydia were to remain in Lexington, and although they had kept well in the background through all the excitement of the fateful night, Aunt Lydia now went down to the door, not only to see the last of her beloved nephew, but to try to speak to some one who could give her more definite news of the seven hundred British soldiers who had arrived in town and were drawn up in formidable array against the motley company of colonists. The British officers at once commanded the colonists to lay down their arms and disperse. Not a single man obeyed. All stood in silent defiance of the order. Then the British regulars poured into the "minute-men" a fatal volley of shots; and about that time Aunt Lydia descended to the parsonage door, and excited Dorothy threw open her window that she might wave to her lover until he was out of sight. As she drew back, she saw something whiz through the air past her aunt's head, striking the barn door beyond, and heard her aunt exclaim:

"What was that?"

It was a British bullet, and no mistake! As Dorothy told later: "The next thing I knew, two men were being brought into the house, one, whose head had been grazed by a bullet, insisted that he was dead; but the other, who was shot in the arm, behaved better."

Dorothy Quincy had seen the first shot fired for independence!

Never was there a more gallant resistance of a large and well-disciplined enemy force than that shown by the minute-men on that day at Lexington, and when at last the British retreated under a hot fire from the provincials at whom they had sneered, they had lost two hundred and seventy-three, killed, wounded, and missing, while the American force had lost only ninety-three.

As soon as the troops were marching on their way to Concord, a messenger brought Dorothy a penciled note from Hanc.o.c.k: "Would she and his aunt come to their hiding-place for dinner, and would they bring with them the fine salmon which was to have been cooked for dinner at the parsonage?" Of course they would--only too eagerly did they make ready and allow the messenger to guide them to the patriot's place of concealment. There, while the lovers enjoyed a tete-a-tete, Adams and Aunt Lydia made the feast ready, and they were all about to enjoy it, when a man rushed in crying out wildly:

"The British are coming! The British are coming! My wife's in eternity now."

This was grim news, and there was no more thought of feasting.

Hurriedly Mr. Marrett made ready and took the patriots to a safer hiding-place, in Amos Wyman's house in Billerica. There, later in the day, they satisfied their appet.i.tes as best they could with cold pork and potatoes in place of the princely salmon, while Dorothy and Aunt Lydia, after eating what they had heart to consume of the feast, returned to Parson Clark's home, where they waited as quietly as possible until the retreat of the British troops. Then Dorothy had the joy of being again clasped in her lover's arms--and as he looked questioningly into her dear eyes, he could see lines of suffering and of new womanliness carved on her face by the anxiety she had experienced during the last twenty-four hours. Then, at a moment when both were seemingly happiest at being together, came their first lovers' quarrel.

When she had somewhat recovered from the fear of not seeing Hanc.o.c.k again, Dorothy announced that she was going to Boston on the following day--that she was worried about her father, who had not yet been able to leave the city, that she must see him. Hanc.o.c.k listened with set lips and grim determination:

"No, madam," he said, "you shall not return as long as there is a British bayonet in Boston."

Quick came the characteristic reply: "Recollect, Mr. Hanc.o.c.k, I am not under your control yet! I shall go to my father to-morrow."

Her determination matched his own, and Hanc.o.c.k saw no way to achieve his end, yet he had not thought of yielding. As usual, he turned to Aunt Lydia for advice. She wisely suggested retiring, without settling the mooted question, as they were all too tired for sensible reflection on any subject. Then, after defiant Dorothy had gone to her room, the older woman stole to the girl's bedside, not to advise,--oh no!--merely to suggest that there was more than one girl waiting to step into Dorothy's place should she flout the handsome young patriot.

Also, she suggested, how terrible it would be if Hanc.o.c.k should be killed, or even captured while the girl he worshiped was away from his side! There was no reply, and the older woman stole from the room without any evidence that she had succeeded in her mission. But she smiled to herself the next morning when Dorothy announced that she had never had any real intention of leaving for Boston, and gracefully acknowledged to an entranced lover that _he_ had been right, after all!

The next question was, where should the women take refuge until the cloud of war should have pa.s.sed over sufficiently to make it safe for them to return to their homes? Hanc.o.c.k advised Fairfield, Connecticut, a beautiful town where there would be small chance of any danger or discomfort. His suggestion met with approval, and Mrs. Hanc.o.c.k and her pretty ward at once set off for the Connecticut town, while Adams and Hanc.o.c.k journeyed cautiously toward Worcester, where they were to meet and go with other delegates to the Continental Congress at Philadelphia. They were detained at Worcester three days, which gave Hanc.o.c.k a chance to see his Dorothy again on her way to the new place of refuge. Theirs was a rapturous though a brief visit together; then the patriots went on toward New York, and Dorothy and Aunt Lydia proceeded to Fairfield, where they were received in the home of Mr.

Thaddeus Burr, an intimate friend of the Hanc.o.c.ks, and a leading citizen, whose fine colonial house was a landmark in the village.

Judge Quincy, meanwhile, had at last been able to take flight from Boston, and after a long, uncomfortable trip, had arrived at his daughter's home in Lancaster, where he heard that "Daughter Dolly and Hanc.o.c.k had taken dinner ten days before, having driven over from Shirley for the purpose." He writes to his son Henry of this, and adds, "As I hear, she proceeded with Mrs. Hanc.o.c.k to Fairfield; I don't expect to see her till peaceable times are restored."

The two patriots reached New York safely, and Hanc.o.c.k at once wrote to Dorothy:

NEW YORK, _Sabbath Even'g, May 7, 1775_.

MY DEAR DOLLY:--

I Arrived well, tho' fatigued, at King's Bridge at Fifty Minute after Two o'clock yesterday, where I found the Delegates of Ma.s.sachusetts and Connect' with a number of Gentlemen from New York, and a Guard of the Troop. I dined and then set out in the Procession for New York,--the Carriage of your Humble servant being first in the procession (of course). When we Arrived within three Miles of the City, we were Met by the Grenadier Company and Regiment of the City Militia under Arms,--Gentlemen in Carriages and on Horseback, and many thousand of Persons on foot, the roads fill'd with people, and the greatest cloud of dust I ever saw. In this Situation we Entered the City, and pa.s.sing thro' the Princ.i.p.al Streets of New York amidst the Acclamations of Thousands were set down at Mr.

Francis's. After Entering the House three Huzzas were Given, and the people by degrees dispersed.

When I got within a mile of the City my Carriage was stopt, and Persons appearing with proper Harnesses insisted upon Taking out my Horses and Dragging me into and through the City, a Circ.u.mstance I would not have Taken place on any consideration, not being fond of such Parade.

I beg'd and entreated that they would suspend the Design, and they were at last prevail'd upon and I proceeded....

After having Rode so fast and so many Miles, you may well think I was much fatigued, but no sooner had I got into the Room of the House we were Visited by a great number of Gentlemen of the first Character of the City, who took up the Evening.

About 10 o'clock I Sat down to Supper of Fried Oysters &, at 11 o'clock went to Capt Sear's and Lod'g. Arose at 5 o'clock, went to the House first mentioned, Breakfasted, Dress'd and went to Meeting, where I heard a most excellent Sermon....

The Grenadier Company of the City is to continue under Arms during our stay here and we have a guard of them at our Doors Night and Day. This is a sad mortification for the Tories. Things look well here.... I beg you will write me.

Do acquaint me every Circ.u.mstance Relative to that Dear Aunt of Mine; write Lengthy and often.... People move slowly out, they tell me, from Boston.... Is your Father out? As soon as you know, do acquaint me, and send me the letters and I will then write him. Pray let me hear from you by every post. G.o.d bless you, my Dr. Girl, and believe me most Sincerely

Yours most affectionately

JOHN HANc.o.c.k.

One can fancy the flutter of pride in Dorothy's heart at the reading of such honors to her lover, and she settled down to await the turn of events with a lighter heart, while Hanc.o.c.k and Adams, with the other delegates, went on toward Philadelphia, their trip being a triumphal progress from start to finish.

On the ninth of May they arrived at their destination, and on the following day the Continental Congress met, when John Hanc.o.c.k was unanimously elected President of the Congress.

While her lover was occupied with matters of such vital importance, he always found time to pour out his hopes and fears and doings in bulky letters which reached his lady love by coach, every fortnight, and which--"shortened absence" to her impatient desire for the one man in the world who meant all to her. But even where Dorothy's heart was so seriously engaged, she could no more help showering coquettish smiles and pretty speeches on those residents of Fairfield whom she came to know, than she could help bewitching them by her charm and beauty. The more sober-minded men of the town were delighted by her conversation, which was sparkling, and by her keen comment on public affairs--comment far beyond the capability of most of her s.e.x and age, while it became the fashion to pay court to vivacious Dorothy, but the moment an adorer attempted to express his sentimental feelings he found himself checkmated by a haughty reserve that commanded admiration, but forced an understanding that Mistress Dolly wished no such attentions.

Of this John Hanc.o.c.k knew nothing, as Dolly was the most tantalizingly discreet of correspondents, and poor Hanc.o.c.k looked and longed in vain for written evidence of her devotion, despite which, however, he continued to write long letters to her:

In one, written on June 10, 1775, he says pathetically:

I am almost prevailed on to think that my letters to my aunt and you are not read, for I cannot obtain a reply. I have asked a million questions and not an answer to one.... I really take it extremely unkind. Pray, my dear, use not so much ceremony and reservedness.... I want long letters.... I beg my dear Dolly, you will write me often and long letters.

I will forgive the past if you will mend in future. Do ask my aunt to make me up and send me a watch-string, and do you make up another. I want something of your doing....

I have sent you in a paper Box directed to you, the following things for your acceptance & which I do insist you wear, if you do not, I shall think the Donor is the objection.

2 pair white silk, 4 pair white thread stockings which I think will fit you, 1 pr Black Satin Shoes, 1 pr Black Calem Do, the other shall be sent when done, 1 very pretty light Hat, 1 neat airy Summer Cloak ... 2 caps, 1 Fann.

I wish these may please you, I shall be gratified if they do, pray write me, I will attent to all your Commands.

Adieu my Dr. Girl, and believe me with great Esteem and Affection

Yours without Reserve

JOHN HANc.o.c.k.

Surely such an appeal could not have failed of its purpose, and we can imagine Dorothy in the pretty garments of a lover's choosing, and her pride and pleasure in wearing them. But little coquette that she was, she failed to properly transmit her appreciation to the man who was so eager for it, and at that particular time her attention was entirely taken up by other diversions, of which, had Hanc.o.c.k known, he would have considered them far more important than colonial affairs.

To the Fairfield mansion, where Dolly and her aunt were staying, had come a visitor, young Aaron Burr, a relative of Thaddeus Burr, a brilliant and fascinating young man, whose cleverness and charming personality made him very acceptable to the young girl, whose presence in the house added much zest to his visit, and to whom he paid instant and marked attention. This roused Aunt Lydia to alarm and apprehension, for she knew Dorothy's firmness when she made up her mind on any subject, and feared that the tide of her affection might turn to this fascinating youth, for Dorothy made no secret of her enjoyment of his attentions. This should not be, Aunt Lydia decided.

With determination, thinly veiled by courtesy, she walked and talked and drove and sat with the pair, never leaving them alone together for one moment, which strict chaperonage Dolly resented, and complained of to a friend with as much of petulancy as she ever showed, tossing her pretty head with an air of defiance as she told of Aunt Lydia's foolishness, and spoke of her new friend as a "handsome young man with a pretty property."

The more devoted young Burr became to her charming ward, the more determined became Aunt Lydia that John Hanc.o.c.k should not lose what was dearer to him than his own life. With the clever diplomacy of which she was evidently past mistress, she managed to so mold affairs to her liking that Aaron Burr's visit at Fairfield came to an unexpectedly speedy end, and, although John Hanc.o.c.k's letters to his aunt show no trace that he knew of a dangerous rival, yet he seems to have suddenly decided that if he were to wed the fair Dolly it were well to do it quickly. And evidently he was still the one enshrined in her heart, for in the recess of Congress between August first and September fifth, John Hanc.o.c.k dropped the affairs of the colony momentarily, and journeyed to Fairfield, never again to be separated from her who was ever his ideal of womanhood.

On the 28th day of August, 1775, Dorothy Quincy and the patriot, John Hanc.o.c.k, were married, as was chronicled in the _New York Gazette_ of September 4th:

This evening was married at the seat of Thaddeus Burr, at Fairfield, Conn., by the Reverend Mr. Eliot, the Hon. John Hanc.o.c.k, Esq., President of the Continental Congress, to Miss Dorothy Quincy, daughter of Edmund Quincy, Esq., of Boston. Florus informs us that "in the second Punic War when Hannibal besieged Rome and was very near making himself master of it, a field upon which part of his army lay, was offered for sale, and was immediately purchased by a Roman, in a strong a.s.surance that the Roman valor and courage would soon raise the siege." Equal to the conduct of that ill.u.s.trious citizen was the marriage of the Honorable John Hanc.o.c.k, Esq., who, with his amiable lady, has paid as great a compliment to American valor by marrying now while all the colonies are as much convulsed as Rome was when Hannibal was at her gates.

The _New York Post_ also gave a detailed account of the wedding, and of the brilliant gathering of the "blue blood" of the aristocratic old town as well as of the colonies. Had the ceremony taken place in the old Quincy home, as had originally been intended, in a room which had been specially paneled with flowers and cupids for the auspicious event, it would doubtless have been a more homelike affair, especially to the bride, but it would have lacked the dignified elegance to which the stately Burr mansion lent itself so admirably.

Pretty Dorothy a bride! Mrs. John Hanc.o.c.k at her gallant husband's side, receiving congratulations, with joy shining in her dark eyes, which were lifted now and again to her husband, only to be answered by a responsive glance of love and loyalty. They were a handsome and a happy pair, to whom for a few hours the strife of the colonies had become a dream--to whom, despite the turbulent struggle in which Hanc.o.c.k must soon again play such a prominent part, the future looked rose color, because now nothing but death could part them.