The Reckoning

by Robert W. Chambers

  CHAPTER V

  THE ARTILLERY BALL

  When I descended from my chamber to the south drawing-room I foundthere a respectable company of gentlemen assembled, awaiting the ladieswho had not yet appeared. First I greeted Sir Henry Clinton, who had atthat moment entered, followed by his staff and by two glitteringofficers of his Seventh Light Dragoons. He appeared pale and worn, hiseyes somewhat inflamed from overstudy by candle-light, but he spoke tome pleasantly, as did Oliver De Lancey, the Adjutant-General, who hadsucceeded poor young Andre--an agreeable and accomplished gentleman,and very smart in his brilliant uniform of scarlet loaded with stiffgold.

  O'Neil, in his gay dress of the Seventeenth Dragoons, and Harkness,wearing similar regimentals, were overflushed and frolicksome, no doubthaving already begun their celebration for the victory of the Flatbushbirds, which they had backed so fortunately at the Coq d'Or. Sir Peter,too, was in mischievous good spirits, examining my very splendidcostume as though he had not chosen it for me at his own tailor's.

  "Gad, Carus!" he exclaimed, "has his Majesty appointed a viceroy inNorth America--or is it the return of that Solomon whose subjects rulethe Dock Ward still?"

  O'Neil and Harkness, too, were merry, making pretense that my glitterset them blinking; but the grave, gray visage of Sir Henry, and hisrestless pacing of the polished floor, gave us all pause; andpresently, as by common accord, voices around him dropped to lowertones, and we spoke together under breath, watching askance thecommander-in-chief, who now stood, head on his jeweled breast, handsclasped loosely behind his back.

  "Sir Peter," he said, looking up with a forced laugh, "I haveirritating news. The rebel dragoons are foraging within six miles ofour lines at Kingsbridge."

  For a month we here in New York had become habituated to alarms. We hadbeen warned to expect the French fleet; we had known that hisExcellency was at Dobbs Ferry, with quarters at Valentine's; we hadseen, day by day, the northern lines strengthened, new guns mounted onthe forts and batteries, new regiments arrive, constant alarms for themilitia, and the city companies under arms, marching up Murray Hill,only, like that celebrated army of a certain King of France, to marchdown again with great racket of drums and overfierce officers noisilyshouting commands. But even I had not understood how near to us thesiege had drawn, closing in steadily, inch by inch, from the greenWestchester hills.

  A little thrill shot through me as I noted the newer, deeper linesetched in Sir Henry's pallid face, and the grave silence of De Lancey,as he stood by the window, arms folded, eying his superior underknitted brows.

  "Why not march out, bands playing?" suggested Sir Peter gaily.

  "By God, we may do that yet to the tune they choose for us!" blurtedout Sir Henry.

  "I meant an assault," said Sir Peter, the smile fading from hishandsome face.

  "I know what you meant," returned Sir Henry wearily. "But that is whatthey wish. I haven't the men, gentlemen."

  There was a silence. He stood there, swaying slowly to and fro on hispolished heels, buried in reflection; but I, who stood a little to oneside, could see his fingers clasped loosely behind his back, nervouslyworking and picking at one another.

  "What do they expect?" he said suddenly, lifting his head but lookingat no one--"what do they expect of me in England? I have not twelvethousand effectives, and of these not nine thousand fit for duty. _They_have eleven thousand, counting the French, not a dozen miles north ofus. Suppose I attack? Suppose I beat them? They have but a mile to fallback, and they are stronger posted than before. I can not pass theHarlem with any chance of remaining, unless I leave here in New York agarrison of at least six thousand regulars. This gives me but threethousand regulars for a sortie." He moved his head slowly, his eyestraveled from one to another with that heavy, dazed expression which sawnothing.

  "Thirty thousand men could not now force Fordham Heights--and but asingle bridge left across the Harlem. To boat it means to be beaten indetail. I tell you, gentlemen, that the only chance I might have in anattempt upon any part of Washington's army must be if he advances. Informal council, Generals Kniphausen, Birch, and Robertson sustain me;and, believing I am right, I am prepared to suffer injustice andcalumny in silence from my detractors here in New York and at home."

  His heavy eyes hardened; a flash lighted them, and he turned to SirPeter, adding:

  "I have listened to a very strange proposition from the gentleman youpresented to me, Sir Peter. His ideas of civilized warfare and mine donot run in like channels."

  "So I should imagine," replied Sir Peter dryly. "But he is my guest,and at his pressing solicitation I went with him to wait upon you."

  Sir Henry smiled, for Sir Peter had spoken very distinctly, thoughwithout heat.

  "My dear friend," said the general gently, "are you to blame for theviolent views of this gentleman who so--ah--_distinguished_ himself atCherry Valley?"

  A sour grimace stamped the visage of every officer present; the name ofCherry Valley was not pleasant to New York ears.

  At that moment Walter Butler entered, halted on the threshold, glancinghaughtily around him, advanced amid absolute silence, made his bow toSir Peter, turned and rendered a perfect salute to Sir Henry, then, asSir Peter quietly named him to every man present, greeted each withceremony and a graceful reserve that could not but stamp him as agentleman of quality and breeding.

  To me, above all, was his attitude faultless; and I, relinquishing to atyrant conscience all hopes of profiting by my blunder in angering him,and giving up all hopes of a duel and consequently of freedom from myhateful business in New York, swallowed pride and repulsion at a singlegulp, and crossed the room to where he stood alone, quite at his easeamid the conversation which excluded him.

  "Mr. Butler," I said, "I spoke hastily and thoughtlessly an hour since.I come to say so."

  He bowed instantly, regarding me with curious eyes.

  "I know not how to make further amends," I began, but he waved his handwith peculiar grace, a melancholy smile on his pale visage.

  "I only trust, Mr. Renault, that you may one day understand me better.No amends are necessary. I assure you that I shall endeavor to soconduct that in future neither you nor any man may misapprehend mymotives." He glanced coolly across at Sir Henry, then very pleasantlyspoke of the coming rout at the Fort, expressing pleasure in gaiety anddancing.

  "I love music, too," he said thoughtfully, "but have heard little for ayear save the bellow of conch-horns from the rebel riflemen of Morgan'scorps."

  Mr. De Lancey had come up, moved by the inbred courtesy whichdistinguished not Sir Henry, who ostentatiously held Sir Peter inforced consultation, his shoulder turned to Walter Butler. And, of thetwain, Mr. Butler cut the better figure, and spite of his truecharacter, I was secretly gratified to see how our Tryon County gentrysuffered nothing in comparison of savoir faire with the best thatEngland sent us. Courtesy to an enemy--that is a creed no gentleman canrenounce save with his title. I speak not of disputes in hot blood, butof a chance meeting upon neutral ground; and Sir Henry was no credit tohis title and his country in his treatment there of Walter Butler.

  One by one all spoke to Mr. Butler; laughter among us broke out as winewas served and compliments exchanged.

  "The hardest lesson man is born to is that lesson which teaches him toawait the dressing of his lady," said De Lancey.

  "Aye, and await it, too, without impatience!" said Captain Harkness.

  "And in perfect good-humor," echoed De Lancey gravely. O'Neil sat downat the piano and played "The World Turned Upside-Down," all driftinginto the singing, voice after voice; and the beauty of Walter Butler'svoice struck all, so that presently, one by one, we fell silent, and healone carried the quaint old melody to its end.

  "I have a guitar hereabouts," blurted out Sir Peter, motioning aservant.

  The instrument was brought, and Walter Butler received it without falsemodesty or wearying protestation, and, touching it dreamily, he sang:

  "Ninon! Ninon! Que fais-tu
de la vie? L'heure s'enfuit, le jour succede au jour, Rose, ce soir--demain fletrie Comment vis-tu, toi qui n'as pas d'amour?

  * * *

  Ouvrez-vous, jeunes fleurs Si la mort vous enleve, La vie est un sommeil, l'amour en est le reve!"

  Sad and sweet the song faded, lingering like perfume, as the deepconcord of the strings died out. All were moved. We pressed him to singmore, and he sang what we desired in perfect taste and with asimplicity that fascinated all.

  I, too, stood motionless under the spell, yet struggling to think ofwhat I had heard of the nearness of his Excellency to New York, and howI might get word to him at once concerning the Oneidas' danger and theproposed attempt upon the frontier granaries. The ladies had as yetgiven no sign of readiness; all present, even Sir Henry, stood within acircle around Walter Butler. So I stepped quietly into the hallway andhastened up the stairs to my chamber, which I locked first, then seizedpaper and quill and fell to scribbling:

  "TO HIS EXCELLENCY, GEN'L WASHINGTON:

  "_Sir_--I regret to report that, through thoughtlessness and inadvertence, I have made a personal enemy of Captain Walter Butler of the Rangers, who is now here on a mission to enlist the aid of Sir Henry Clinton in a new attempt on the frontier. His purpose in this enterprise is to ruin our granaries, punish the Oneidas friendly to us, and, if aided from below, seize Albany, or at least Johnstown, Caughnawaga, and Schenectady. Sir John Johnson, Major Ross, and Captain Butler are preparing to gather at Niagara Fort. They expect to place a strong, swift force in the field--Rangers, Greens, Hessians, Regulars, and partizans, not counting Brant's Iroquois of the Seneca, Cayuga, and Mohawk nations.

  "The trysting-place is named as Thendara. Only an Iroquois, adopted or native, can understand how Thendara is to be found. It is a town that has no existence--a fabled town that has existed and will exist again, but does not now exist. It is a mystic term used in council, and understood only by those clan ensigns present at the Rite of Condolence. At a federal council of the Five Nations, at a certain instant in the ceremonies, that spot which for a week shall be chosen to represent the legendary and lost town of Thendara, is designated to the clan attestants.

  "Now, sir, as our allies the Oneidas dare not answer to a belt summons for federal council, there is no one who can discover for you the location of the trysting-spot, Thendara. I, however, am an Oneida councilor, having conformed to the law of descent by adoption; and having been raised up to ensign by the Wolf-Clan of the Oneida Nation, beg leave to place my poor services at your Excellency's disposal. There may be a chance that I return alive; and you, sir, are to judge whether any attempt of mine to answer the Iroquois belt, which surely I shall receive, is worth your honorable consideration. In the meanwhile I am sending copies of this letter to Colonel Willett and to Gen'l Schuyler."

  I hastily signed, seized more writing-paper, and fell to copyingfuriously. And at length it was accomplished, and I wrapped up theletters in a box of snuff, tied and sealed the packet, and calledDennis.

  "Take this snuff back to Ennis, in Hanover Square," I said peevishly,"and inform him that Mr. Renault desires a better quality."

  My servant took the box and hastened away. I stood an instant,listening. Walter Butler was still singing. I cast my eyes about,picked up a half-written sheet I had discarded for fault of blots,crumpled it, and reached for a candle to burn it. But at that instant Iheard the voices of the ladies on the landing below, so quickly openingmy wainscot niche I thrust the dangerous paper within, closed thepanel, and hastened away down-stairs to avoid comment for my absence.

  In the merry company now assembled below I could scarcely have beenmissed, I think, for the Italian chaises had but just that momentappeared to bear us away to the Fort, and the gentlemen were clusteredabout Lady Coleville, who, encircled by a laughing bevy of prettywomen, was designating chaise-partners, reading from a list she held inher jeweled hands. Those already allotted to one another had movedapart, standing two and two, and as I entered the room I saw WalterButler give his arm to Rosamund Barry at Lady Coleville's command, afixed smile hiding his disappointment, which turned to a white grimaceas Lady Coleville ended with: "Carus, I entrust to your escort the Hon.Elsin Grey, and if you dare to run off with her there are some twentycourt-swords ready here to ask the reason why. Sir Henry, will you takeme as your penance?"

  "Now, gentlemen," cried Sir Peter gaily, "the chaises are here; andplease to remember that there is no Kissing-Bridge between Wall Streetand the Battery."

  Elsin Grey turned to me, laying her soft white hand on mine.

  "Did you hear Mr. Butler sing?" she whispered. "Is it not divine enoughto steal one's heart away?"

  "He sings well," I said, gazing in wonder at her ball-gown--paleturquoise silk, with a stomacher of solid brilliants and petticoat ofblue and silver. "Elsin, I think I never saw so beautiful a maid in allmy life, nor a beautiful gown so nobly borne."

  "Do you really think so?" she asked, delighted at my bluntness. "Andyou, too, Carus--why, you are like a radiant one from the sky! I haveever thought you handsome, but not as flawless as you now revealyourself. Lord! we should cut a swathe to-night, you and I, sir,blinding all eyes in our proper glitter. I could dance all night, andall day too! I never felt so light, so gay, so eager, so reckless. I'mquivering with delight, Carus, from throat to knee; and, for the rest,my head is humming with the devil's tattoo and my feet keeping time."

  She raised the hem of her petticoat a hand's breadth, and tapped thefloor with one little foot--a trifle only. "That ballet figure that wedid at Sir Henry's--do you remember?--and the heat of the ballroom, andthe French red running from the women's cheeks? To-night is perfect,cool and fragrant. I shall dance until I die, and go up to heaven inone high, maddened whirl--zip!--like a burning soul!"

  We were descending the stoop now. Our chaise stood ready. I placed herand followed, and away we rolled down Broadway.

  "Am I to have two dances?" I asked.

  "Two? Why, you blessed man, you may have twenty!"

  She turned to me, eyes sparkling, fan half spread, a picture ofexquisite youth and beauty. Her jewels flashed in the chaise-lamps, herneck and shoulders glowed clear and softly fair.

  "Is that French red on lip and cheek?" I asked, to tease her.

  "If there were a certain sort of bridge betwixt Wall Street and theFort you might find out without asking," she said, looking me daringlyin the eyes. "Lacking that same bridge, you have another bridge andanother problem, Mr. Renault."

  "For lack of a Kissing-Bridge I must solve the _pons asinorum_, I see,"said I, imprisoning her hands. There was a delicate hint of a struggle,a little cry, and I had kissed her. Breathless she looked at me; thesmile grew fixed on her red lips.

  "Your experience in such trifles is a blessing to the untaught," shesaid. "You have not crumpled a ribbon. Truly, Carus, only long andintense devotion to the art could turn you out a perfect master."

  "My compliments to you, Elsin; I take no credit that your gown issmooth and the lace unruffled."

  "Thank you; but if you mean that I, too, am practised in the art, youare wrong."

  The fixed smile trembled a little, but her eyes were wide and bright.

  "Would you laugh, Carus, if I said it: what you did to me--is thefirst--the very first in all my life?"

  "Oh, no," I said gravely, "I should not laugh if you commandedotherwise."

  She looked at me in silence, the light from the chaise-lamps playingover her flushed face. Presently she turned and surveyed the darknesswhere, row on row, ruins of burned houses stood, the stars shining downthrough roofless walls.

  Into my head came ringing the song that Walter Butler sang:

  "Ninon! Ninon! thy sweet life flies! Wasted in hours day follows day. The rose to-night to-morrow dies: Wilt thou disdain to love alway? How canst thou live unconscious of Love's fi
re, Immune to passion, guiltless of desire?"

  Now all around us lamplight glimmered as we entered Bowling Green,where coach and chaise and sedan-chair were jumbled in a confusionincreased by the crack of whips, the trample of impatient horses, andthe cries of grooms and chairmen. In the lamp's increasing glare I madeout a double line of soldiers, through which those invited to the Fortwere passing; and as our chaise stopped and I aided Elsin to descend,the fresh sea-wind from the Battery struck us full, blowing her lacescarf across my face.

  Through lines of servants and soldiers we passed, her hand nestlingclosely to my arm, past the new series of outworks and barricades,where bronze field-pieces stood shining in the moonlight, then over adry moat by a flimsy bridge, and entered the sally-port, thronged withofficers, all laughing and chatting, alert to watch the guestsarriving, and a little bold, too, with their stares and theirquizzing-glasses. There is, at times, something almost German in theBritish lack of delicacy, which is, so far, rare with us here, though Idoubt not the French will taint a few among us. But insolence in stareand smirk is not among our listed sins, though, doubtless, otherwisethe list is full as long as that of any nation, and longer, too, forall I know.

  Conducting Elsin Grey, I grew impatient at the staring, and made wayfor her without ceremony, which caused a mutter here and there.

  In the great loft-room of the Barracks, held by the naval companies,the ball was to be given. I relinquished my pretty charge to LadyColeville at the door of the retiring-room, and strolled off to joinSir Peter and the others, gathering in knots throughout the cloak-room,where two sailors, cutlasses bared, stood guard.

  "Well, Carus," he said, smilingly approaching me, "did you heed thosechaste instructions I gave concerning the phantom Kissing-Bridge?"

  "I did not run away with her," I said, looking about me. "Where isWalter Butler?"

  "He returned to the house in a chaise for something forgotten--or so hesaid. I did not understand him clearly, and he was in great haste."

  "He went back to _our_ house?" I asked uneasily.

  "Yes--a matter of a moment, so he said. He returns to move the openingdance with Rosamund."

  Curiously apprehensive, I stood there listening to the chatter aroundme. Sir Peter drummed with his fingers on his sword-hilt, and noddedjoyously to every passer-by.

  "You have found Walter Butler more agreeable, I trust, than our friendSir Henry found him," he said, turning his amused eyes on me.

  "Perhaps," I said.

  "Perhaps? Damme, Carus, that is none too cordial! What is it in the manthat keeps men aloof? Eh? He's a gentleman, a graceful, dark, romanticfellow, in his forest-green regimentals and his black hair wornunpowdered. And did you ever hear such a voice?"

  "No, I never did," I replied sulkily.

  "Delicious," said Sir Peter--"a voice prettily cultivated, and sweetenough to lull suspicion in a saint." He laughed: "Rosamund made greateyes at him, the vixen, but I fancy he's too cold to catch fire from acoquette. Did you learn if he is married?"

  "Not from him, sir."

  "From whom?"

  I was silent.

  "From whom?" he asked curiously.

  "Why, I had it from one or two acquaintances, who say they knew hiswife when she fled with other refugees from Guy Park," I answered.

  Sir Peter shrugged his handsome shoulders, dusted his nose with a whiskof his lace handkerchief, and looked impatiently for a sign of his wifeand the party of ladies attending her.

  "Carus," he said under his breath, "you should enter the lists, yourogue."

  "What lists?" I answered carelessly.

  "Lord! he asks me what lists!" mimicked Sir Peter. "Why don't you courther? The match is suitable and desirable. You ninny, do you suppose itwas by accident that Elsin Grey became our guest? Why, lad, we're seton it--and, damme! but I'm as crafty a matchmaker as my wife, planningthe pretty game together in the secret of our chambers after you andElsin are long abed, and--Lord! I came close to saying 'snoring'--forwhich you should have called me out, sir, if you are champion of ElsinGrey."

  "But, Sir Peter," I said smiling, "I do not love the lady."

  "A boorish speech!" he snapped. "Take shame, Carus, you Tryon Countybumpkin!"

  "I mean," said I, reddening, "and should have said, that the lady doesnot love me."

  "That's better." He laughed, and added, "Pay your court, sir. You arefashioned for it."

  "But I do not care to," I said.

  "O Lord!" muttered Sir Peter, looking at the great beams above us, "mymatch-making is come to naught, after all, and my wife will be furiouswith you--furious, I say. And here she comes, too," he said,brightening, as he ever did, at sight of his lovely wife, who hadremained his sweetheart, too; and this I am free to say, that, spite ofthe looseness of the times and of society, never, as long as I knewhim, did Sir Peter forget in thought or deed those vows he took whenwedded. Sportsman he was, and rake and gambler, as were we all; and Ihave seen him often overflushed with wine, but never heard from hislips a blasphemy or foul jest, never a word unworthy of clean lips andthe clean heart he carried with him to his grave.

  As Lady Coleville emerged from the ladies' cloakroom, attended by herpretty bevy, Sir Peter, followed by his guests, awaited her in thegreat corridor, where she took his arm, looking up into his handsomeface with that indefinable smile I knew so well--a smile of delicatepride, partly tender, partly humorous, tinctured with faintestcoquetry.

  "Sweetheart," he said, "that villain, Carus, will have none of ourmatch-making, and I hope Rosamund twists him into a triplelover's-knot, to teach him lessons he might learn more innocently."

  Lady Coleville flushed up and looked around at me. "Why, Carus," shesaid softly, "I thought you a man of sense and discretion."

  "But I--but she does not favor me, madam," I protested in a low voice.

  "It is your fault, then, and your misfortune," she said. "Do you notknow that she leaves us to-morrow? Sir Henry has placed a packet at ourservice. Can you not be persuaded--for my sake? It is our fond wish,Carus. How can a man be insensible to such wholesome loveliness ashers?"

  "But--but she is a child--she has no heart! She is but a child yet--allcaprice, innocence, and artless babble--and she loves not me,madam----"

  "_You_ love not _her_! Shame, sir! Open those brown blind eyes of yours,that look so wise and are so shallow if such sweetness as hers troublesnot their depths! Oh, Carus, Carus, you make me too unhappy!"

  "Idiot!" added Sir Peter, pinching my arm. "Bring her to us, now, forwe enter. She is yonder, you slow-wit! nose to nose with O'Neil.Hasten!"

  But Elsin's patch-box had been mislaid, and while we searched for it Isaw the marines march up, form in double rank, and heard the clearvoice of their sergeant announcing:

  "Sir Peter and Lady Coleville!

  "Captain Tully O'Neil and the Misses O'Neil!

  "Adjutant-General De Lancey and Miss Beekman!

  "Sir Henry Clinton!

  "Captains Harkness, Rutherford, Hallowell, and McIvor!

  "Major-General----"

  "Elsin," I said, "you should have been announced with Sir Peter andLady Coleville!"

  She had found her patch-box and her fan at length, and we marched in,the sergeant's loud announcement ringing through the quickly fillingroom:

  "Mr. Carus Renault and the Honorable Elsin Grey!"

  "What _will_ folk say to hear our banns shouted aloud in the teeth ofall New York?" she whispered mischievously. "Mercy on me! if you turn asred as a Bushwick pippin they will declare we are affianced!"

  "I shall confirm it if you consent!" I said, furious to burn at a jestfrom her under a thousand eyes.

  "Ask me again," she murmured; "we make our reverences here."

  She took her silk and silver petticoat between thumb and forefinger ofeach hand and slowly sank, making the lowest, stateliest curtsy that Iever bowed beside; and I heard a low, running murmur sweep the bright,jeweled ranks around us as we recovered and passed on, ceding our placeto others nex
t behind.

  The artillerymen had made the great loft gay with bunting. Jacks andsignal-flags hung from the high beams overhead, clothing the baretimbers with thickets of gayest foliage; banners and bright scarfs,caught up with trophies, hung festooned along the unpainted walls. Theyhad made a balcony with stairs where the band was perched, the music ofthe artillery augmented by strings--a harp, half a dozen fiddles,cellos, bassoons, and hautboys, and there were flutes, too, andtrumpets lent by the cavalry, and sufficient drums to make that fine,deep, thunderous undertone, which I love to hear, and which heats mycheeks with pleasure.

  Beyond the spar-loft the sail-loft had been set aside and fashionedmost elegantly for refreshment. An immense table crossed it, behindwhich servants stood, and behind the servants the wall had been linedwith shelves covered with cakes, oranges, apples, early peaches, melonsand nectarines, and late strawberries, also wines of every sort,pastry, jellies, whip-syllabub, rocky and floating island, blanc-mange,brandied preserves--and Heaven knows what! But Elsin Grey whispered methat Pryor the confectioner had orders for coriander and cinnamoncomfits by the bushel, and orange, lemon, chocolate, and burned almondsby the peck.

  "Do look at Lady Coleville," whispered Elsin, gently touching mysleeve; "is she not sweet as a bride with Sir Peter? And oh, that gown!with the lilac ribbons and flounce of five rows of lace. Carus, she hasforty diamond buttons upon her petticoat, and her stomacher is allamethysts!"

  "I wonder where Walter Butler is?" I said restlessly.

  "Do you wish to be rid of me?" she asked.

  "God forbid! I only marvel that he is not here--he seemed so eager forthe frolic----"

  My voice was drowned in the roll of martial music; we took the placesassigned us, and the slow march began, ending in the Governor's set,which was danced by eight couples--a curious dance, newly fashionable,and called "En Ballet." This we danced in a very interesting fashion,sometimes two and two, sometimes three and two, or four couple and fourcouple, and then all together, which vastly entertained the spectators.In the final melee I had lost my lady to Mr. De Lancey, who now carriedher off, leaving me with a willowy maid, whose partner came to claimher soon.

  The ball now being opened, I moved a minuet with Lady Coleville, sheadjuring me at every step and turn to let no precious moment slip tocourt Elsin; and I, bland but troubled, and astonished to learn howdeep an interest she took in my undoing--I with worry enough before me,not inclusive of a courtship that I found superfluous and unimportant.

  When she was rid of me, making no concealment of her disappointment andimpatience, I looked for Elsin, but found Rosamund Barry, and led herout in one of those animated figures we had learned at home from theFrenchman, Grasset--dances that suited her, the rose coquette!--gaydances, where the petticoat reveals a pretty limb discreetly; wherefans play, opening and closing like the painted wings of butterfliesalarmed; where fingers touch, fall away, interlace and unlace; where alight waist-clasp and a vis-a-vis leaves a moment for a whisper and itsanswer, promise, assent, or low refusal as partners part, dropping awayin low, slow reverence, which ends the frivolous figure with regretfuldecorum.

  Askance I had seen Elsin and O'Neil, a graceful pair of figures in thefrolic, and now I sought her, leaving Rosamund to Sir Henry, but thatvillain O'Neil had her to wine, and amid all that thirsty throng andnoise of laughter I missed her in the tumult, and then lost her for twohours. I must admit those two hours sped with the gay partners thatfortune sent me--and one there was whose fingers were shyly eloquent, ablack-eyed beauty from Westchester, with a fresh savor of free windsand grassy hillsides clinging to her, and a certain lovely awkwardnesswhich claims an arm to steady very often. Lord! I had her twice to icesand to wine, and we laughed and laughed at nothing, and might have beenmerrier, but her mother seized her with scant ceremony, and a strangeyoung gentleman breathed hard and glared at me as I recovered dignity,which made me mad enough to follow him half across the hall ere Ireflected that my business here permitted me no quarrel of my ownseeking.

  Robbed of my Westchester shepherdess, swallowing my disgust, Isauntered forward, finding Elsin Grey with Lady Coleville, seatedtogether by the wall. What they had been whispering there together Iknew not, but I pushed through the attendant circle of beaus andgallants who were waiting there their turns, and presented myselfbefore them.

  "I am danced to rags and ribbons, Carus," said Elsin Grey--"and nothanks to you for the pleasure, you who begged me for a dance or two;and I offered twenty, silly that I was to so invite affront!"

  She was smiling when she spoke, but Lady Coleville's white teeth werein her fan's edge, and she looked at me with eyes made bright throughdisappointment.

  "You are conducting like a silly boy," she said, "with those hoydensfrom Westchester, and every little baggage that dimples at your stare.Lord! Carus, I thought you grown to manhood!"

  "Is there a harm in dancing at a ball, madam?" I asked, laughing.

  "Fie! You are deceitful, too. Elsin, be chary of your favors. Dancewith any man but him. He'll be wearing two watches to-morrow, and hishair piled up like a floating island!"

  She smiled, but her eyes were not overgay. And presently she turned onElsin with a grave shake of her head:

  "You disappoint me, both of you," she said. "Elsin, I never dreamedthat _you_----"

  Their fans flew up, their heads dipped, then Elsin rose and askedindulgence, taking my arm, one hand lying in Lady Coleville's hand.

  "Do you and Sir Peter talk over it together," she said, with alingering wistfulness in her voice. "I shall dance with Carus, whetherhe will or no, and then we'll walk and talk. You may tell Sir Peter, ifyou so desire."

  "_All?_" asked Lady Coleville, retaining Elsin's hand.

  "All, madam, for it concerns all."

  Sir Henry Clinton came to wait on Lady Coleville, and so we left them,slowly moving out through the brilliant sea of silks and laces, her armresting close in mine, her fair head bent in silent meditation.

  Around us swelled the incessant tumult of the ball, music and theblended harmony of many voices, rustle and whisper of skirt and silk,and the swish! swish! of feet across the vast waxed floor.

  "Shall we dance?" I asked pleasantly.

  She looked up, then out across the ocean of glitter and restless color.

  "Now I am in two minds," she said--"to dance until there's no breathleft and but a wisp of rags to cover me, or to sip a syllabub with youand rest, or go gaze at the heavens the while you court me----"

  "That's three minds already," I said, laughing.

  "Well, sir, which are you for?"

  "And you, Elsin?"

  "No, sir, you shall choose."

  "Then, if it lies with me, I choose the stars and courtship," I saidpolitely.

  "I wonder," she said, "why you choose it--with a maid so pliable. Isnot half the sport in the odds against you--the pretty combat forsupremacy, the resisting fingers, and the defense, face covered? Is notthe sport to overcome all these, nor halt short of the reluctant lips,still fluttering in voiceless protest?"

  "Where did you hear all that?" I asked, piqued yet laughing.

  "Rosamund Barry read me my first lesson--and, after all, though warned,I let you have your way with me there in the chaise. Oh, I am an aptpupil, Carus, with Captain Butler in full control of my mind and you ofmy body."

  "Have you seen him yet?" I asked.

  "No; he has not appeared to claim his dance. A gallant pair ofcourtiers I have found in you and him----"

  "Couple our names no more!" I said so hotly that she stopped, lookingat me in astonishment.

  "Have you quarreled?" she asked.

  I did not answer. We had descended the barrack-stairs and were enteringthe parade. Dark figures in pairs moved vaguely in the light of thebattle-lanthorns set. We met O'Neil and Rosamund, who stood star-gazingon the grass, and later Sir Henry, pacing the sod alone, who, when hesaw me, motioned me to stop, and drew a paper from his breast.

  "Sir Peter and Lady Coleville's pass for
Westchester, which he desiredand I forgot. Will you be good enough to hand it to him, Mr. Renault?There is a council called to-night--it is close to two o'clock, and Imust go."

  He took a courtly leave of us, then wandered away, head bent, pacingthe parade as though he kept account of each slow step.

  "Yonder comes Knyphausen, too, and Birch," I said, as the GermanGeneral emerged from the casemates, followed by Birch and a raft ofofficers, spurs clanking.

  We stood watching the Hessians as they passed in the lamp's rays,officers smooth-shaven and powdered, wearing blue and yellow, and theirlong boots; soldiers with black queues in eelskin, tiny mustachesturned up at the waxed ends, and long black, buttoned spatter-dashesstrapped at instep and thigh.

  "Let us ascend to the parapets," she said, looking up at the huge, darksilhouette above where the southeast bastion jutted seaward.

  A sentry brought his piece to support as we went by him, ascending theinclined artillery road, whence we presently came out upon theramparts, with the vast sweep of star-set firmament above, and below usthe city's twinkling lights on one side, and upon the other two greatrivers at their trysting with the midnight ocean.

  There were no lights at sea, none on the Hudson, and on the East Riveronly the sad signal-spark smoldering above the _Jersey_.

  Elsin had found a seat low on a gun-carriage, and, moving a little,made place for me.

  "Look at that darkness," she said--"that infinite void under which anocean wallows. It is like hell, I think. Do you understand how I fearthe ocean?"

  "Do you fear it, child?"

  "Aye," she said, musing; "it took father and mother and brother. Youknew that?"

  "Lady Coleville says there is always hope that they may be alive--caston that far continent----"

  "So the attorneys say--because there is a legal limit--and I am theHonorable Elsin Grey. Ah, Carus, _I_ know that the sea has them fast.No port shall that tall ship enter save the last of all--the Port ofMissing Ships. Heigho! Sir Frederick is kind--in his own fashion.... Iwould I had a mother.... There is a loneliness that I feel ... attimes...."

  A vague gesture, and she lifted her head, with a tremor of hershoulders, as though shaking off care as a young girl drops a scarf oflace to her waist.

  Presently she turned quietly to me:

  "I have told Lady Coleville," she said.

  "Told her what, child?"

  "Of my promise to Captain Butler. I have not yet told everything--evento you."

  Roused from my calm sympathy I swung around, alert, tingling withinterest and curiosity.

  "I gave her leave to inform Sir Peter," she added. "They were toounhappy about you and me, Carus. Now they will understand there is nochance."

  And when Sir Peter had asked me if Walter Butler was married, I hadadmitted it. Here was the matter already at a head, or close to it.Sudden uneasiness came upon me, as I began to understand how closelythe affront touched Sir Peter. What would he do?

  "What is it called, and by what name, Carus, when a man whose touch onecan not suffer so dominates one's thoughts--as he does mine?"

  "It is not love," I said gloomily.

  "He swears it is. Do you believe there may lie something compelling inhis eyes that charm and sadden--almost terrify, holding one pitifulyet reluctant?"

  "I do not know. I do not understand the logic of women's minds, nor howthey reason, nor why they love. I have seen delicacy mate withcoarseness, wit with stupidity, humanity with brutality, religion withthe skeptic, aye, goodness with evil. I, too, ask why? The answer everis the same--because of love!"

  "Because of it, is reason; is it not?"

  "So women say."

  "And men?"

  "Aye, they say the same; but with men it is another sentiment, I think,though love is what we call it."

  "Why do men love, Carus?"

  "Why?" I laughed. "Men love--men love because they find it pleasant, Isuppose--for variety, for family reasons."

  "For nothing else?"

  "For a balm to that mad passion driving them."

  "And--nothing nobler?"

  "There is a noble love, part chivalry, part desire, inspired by mindand body in sweetest unison."

  "A mind that seeks its fellow?" she asked softly.

  "No, a mind that seeks its complement, as the body seeks. This union, Ithink, is really love. But I speak with no experience, Elsin. This onlyI know, that you are too young, too innocent to comprehend, and thatthe sentiment awakened in you by what you think is love, is not love.Child, forgive me what I say, but it rings false as the vows of thatyoung man who importunes you."

  "Is it worthy of you, Carus, to stab him so behind his back?"

  I leaned forward, my head in my hands.

  "Elsin, I have endured these four years, now, a thousand little stingswhich I could not resent. Forgetting this, at moments I blurt out atruth which, were matters otherwise with me, I might back with--what islooked for when a man repeats what may affront his listener. It is, ina way, unworthy, as you say, that I speak lightly to you of a man I cannot meet with honor to myself. Yet, Elsin, were my duty first toyou--first even to myself--this had been settled now--this mattertouching you and Walter Butler--and also my ancient score with him,which is as yet unreckoned."

  "What keeps you, then?" she said, and her voice rang a little.

  I looked at her; she sat there, proud head erect, searching me withscornful eyes.

  "A small vow I made," said I carelessly.

  "And when are you released, sir?"

  "Soon, I hope."

  "Then, Mr. Renault," she said disdainfully, "I pray you swallow yourdislike of Captain Butler until such time as you may explain yourenmity to him."

  The lash stung. I sat dazed, then wearied, while the tingling passed.Even the silence tired me, and when I could command my voice I said:"Shall we descend, madam? There is a chill in the sea-air."

  "I do not feel it," she answered, her voice not like her own.

  "Do you desire to stay here?"

  "No," she said, springing up. "This silence of the stars wearies me."

  She passed before me across the parapet and down the inclined way, I ather heels; and so into the dark parade, where I caught up with her.

  "Have I angered you without hope of pardon?" I asked.

  "You have spoiled it all for me----"

  She bit her lip, suddenly silent. Sir Peter Coleville stood before us.

  "Lady Coleville awaits you," he said very quietly, too quietly by far."Carus, take her to my wife. Our coach is waiting."

  We stared at him in apprehension. His face was serene, but colorlessand hard as steel, as he turned and strode away; and we followedwithout a word, drawing closer together as we moved through a coveredpassage-way and out along Pearl Street, where Sir Peter's coach stood,lamps shining, footman at the door.

  Lady Coleville was inside. I placed Elsin Grey, and, at a motion fromSir Peter, closed the door.

  "Home," he said quietly. The footman leaped to the box, the whipsnapped, and away rolled the coach, leaving Sir Peter and myselfstanding there in Pearl Street.

  "Your servant Dennis sought me out," he said, "with word that WalterButler had been busy sounding the panels in your room."

  Speech froze on my lips.

  "Further," continued Sir Peter calmly, "Lady Coleville has shared withme the confidence of Elsin Grey concerning her troth, clandestinelyplighted to this gentleman whom you have told me is a married man."

  I could not utter a sound. Moment after moment passed in silence. Thehalf-hour struck, then three-quarters. At last from the watch-tower onthe Fort the hour sounded.

  There was a rattle of wheels behind us; a coach clattered out of BeaverStreet, swung around the railing of the Bowling Green, and drew upalong the foot-path beside us; and Dr. Carmody leaped out, shakinghands with us both.

  "I found him at Fraunce's Tavern, Sir Peter, bag and baggage. Heappeared to be greatly taken aback when I delivered your cartel,protesting that something was wrong,
that there could be no quarrelbetween you and him; but when I hinted at his villainy, he went whiteas ashes and stood there swaying like a stunned man. Gad! that hintabout his wife took every ounce of blood from his face, Sir Peter."

  "Has he a friend to care for him?" asked Sir Peter coldly.

  "Jessop of the Sappers volunteered. I found him in the tap-room. Theyshould be on their way by this time, Sir Peter."

  "That will do. Carus will act for me," said Sir Peter in a dull voice.

  He entered the coach; I followed, and Dr. Carmody followed me andclosed the door. A heavy leather case lay beside me on the seat. Irested my throbbing head on both hands, sitting swaying there insilence as the coach dashed through Bowling Green again and spedclattering on its way up-town.