CHAPTER XXIX
THE ESCORT
The figure of the man approaching was hardly distinguishable, as heappeared to be leaning well forward over the saddle pommel, yet my eyescaught the glimmer of a star along a pistol barrel, and I drew upcautiously, loosening my own weapon.
"Who comes?" he questioned shortly, the low voice vibrant. "Speak quick!"
"An officer with despatches," I answered promptly, "riding toPhiladelphia--and you?"
"We are taking a wounded man home," was the reply, the speaker ridingforward. "Are you Continental?"
"Yes. Major Lawrence, of Maxwell's Brigade."
"Oh!" the exclamation was half smothered, the rider drawing up his horsequickly. I could distinguish the outline of his form now, the straight,slender figure of a boy, wearing the tight jacket of a Dragoon, the faceshadowed by a broad hat brim.
"Unless I mistake," I ventured cordially, "you must be Eric Mortimer."
"Why do you suppose that?"
"Because while at General Washington's headquarters he mentioned that youhad asked permission to take your father--Colonel Mortimer, of theQueen's Rangers--to his home at Elmhurst. You left, as I understood, anhour or two ahead of us. Am I right?"
"Yes, sir; this is Colonel Mortimer's party."
"Then we will pass on without detaining you longer, as we ride in haste.I met your father once; may I ask if his wound is serious?"
"Serious, yes, but not mortal; he was shot in the right side when Monktonfell. His horse was hit at the same time, and the animal's death strugglenearly killed his rider. The surgeon says he may be lame for life."
I reached out my hand, and, with just an instant's hesitation, hereturned the clasp warmly.
"My father is suffering too much for me to ask that you speak to him,Major Lawrence," he said a little stiffly. "Perhaps later, at Elmhurst--"
"I understand perfectly," I interrupted. "I am very glad to have met you.We shall ride within a short distance of Elmhurst. Shall I leave wordthere that you are coming?"
"Oh, no," quickly, his horse taking a step backward, as though to asudden tug of the rein. "That would be useless, as there is no onethere."
"Indeed! I thought possibly your sister."
The lad shook his head, glancing toward the carriage. The slight motionmade me think again of the wounded man we were detaining, and reminded meas well of my own duty.
"Then, good-night, sir. Sergeant, we will trot on."
The lad touched my sleeve, even as I pricked my horse with the spur, andI drew the rein taut in surprise.
"What is it?"
"Could you not send your men forward, and ride with me a moment? Youcould catch up with them easily within a mile or two. I--I have a word Iwish to say to you--alone."
The voice was low, tremulous; the request one I saw no reason to refuse.
"Why, certainly. Sergeant, take your men down the road at an easy trot. Iwill join you presently."
They went by us like shadows, leaving a cloud of dust behind. The boyspoke a brief word to those in charge of the carriage, and it also beganto move slowly forward.
"We will go ahead," he said, suiting the action to the word. "What I wishto say will not take long."
Within a minute, riding side by side, our horses walking rapidly, we wereout of sight of the lumping shadow of the ambulance. I glanced asidecuriously at my companion, noting the outlines of his slender, erectfigure, wondering vaguely what his message could be. Had Claire spoken tohim of me? Was he going to tell me about his sister? We must have riddena quarter of a mile before he broke the silence.
"Major Lawrence," he began, and I noticed the face was not turned towardme. "I am sure you are not deceived, although you act the part well."
"I hardly understand."
"Oh, but I am sure you do. I--I could not permit you to go away despisingme."
"But, my boy, this is all mystery--"
"Do you mean to insist you do not know--have not recognized me?"
"I--what can you mean?"
"Merely that I am Claire Mortimer," and lifting the hat, the youngofficer was revealed in the dim light as my lady. "Surely you knew?"
"But I did not," I insisted earnestly, recovering from my surprise, andleaning forward to look into her face. "Why should I? General Washingtontold me it was Eric who came for his father. Why should I suspect in thisdarkness?"
"I--I represented myself as Eric," she stammered.
"And was it you also who rode into our lines yesterday, telling ofClinton's whereabouts?"
"Yes," hesitatingly, her eyes lifting to my face.
"But you must listen to me, Major Lawrence; you must learn why I did sounwomanly an act."
"First answer one question."
"Gladly."
"Is there an Eric Mortimer?"
"There is," she answered frankly; "my brother. It was for his sake I didall this."
A moment I sat my saddle silently, our horses walking side by sidethrough the night, while I endeavored to grasp the meaning of herconfession. I knew that she was riding bareheaded, her face turned away.
"Go on," I said at last, "tell me the whole story."
"I will," firmly, her head uplifted. "I was tempted to do so at Elmhurst,but something seemed to seal my lips. There is now no longer any excusefor silence. I--I wish you to know, and then, perhaps, you may feel morekindly disposed toward me."
"Your father is aware--"
"No, not even my father. He is scarcely conscious of what is going onabout him. Peter knows, and Tonepah," with a wave of her hand into thedark shadows.
"They are with you, then--keeping guard over him?"
"Yes; they have known from the beginning; not everything, of course, forthat was not necessary. Peter is an old servant, silent and trustworthy.He would never question any act of mine, while the Indian has reason tobe grateful and loyal to me. Whatever indiscretion, Major Lawrence, I mayhave been guilty of, I have gone nowhere unaccompanied by these two. Youwill believe that?"
"Yes, and whatever else you tell me."
"That now must necessarily be the entire story. As I proceed you will beconvinced, I think, that only a true confidence in you would enable me tospeak with such frankness. I--I know of no one else in whom I couldconfide, and--and the time has come when I must have help--the help of afriend. I should have explained to my father--indeed intended to doso--but now he is helpless to aid me. There is no one else I feel able totrust. I--I--you were in my thought to-night; I--I am not sure I did noteven pray for your coming, and--and then God sent you."
My hand sought hers, and held it against my horse's mane.
"Tell it in your own way, dear," I whispered.
She flashed one glance into my face, leaving her hand in mine, while ourhorses took a dozen strides.
"It will not take long," she began, in so low a voice that I leanedforward to listen, "and you already know many of the characters, and canjudge their motives. I have been strangely situated since thecommencement of this war, only, surely ours is not the only familydivided in its loyalty. My father was a King's officer, and felt it hisduty to serve the crown. While he has said little, yet I know that downin his heart his sympathies have been with the Colonies. Those of mybrother were openly from the start, and my father has never attempted tointerfere with his actions. They talked it all over together, and Ericchose his own course. Only Alfred Grant made trouble, presuming on whathe termed our engagement, and endeavored to force my brother to join theKing's troops. The two quarrelled bitterly, and Eric, a hot-headed boy,struck him. Grant has never forgiven that blow, nor Eric's influence overme. To the latter he attributes my dislike--yet this was not true; it wasbecause as I grew older I realized the ill character of the man."
She paused a moment, gathering the threads of thought more closely. I didnot speak, preferring she should tell the story in her own way.
"The two did not meet after that for many months. The Queen's Rangers, inwhich regiment my father secured Grant a commissio
n, were in New York,while Eric was stationed up the river with Morgan's riflemen. When NewJersey was invaded, both commands came south, and, because of Eric'sknowledge of this country, he was detailed as scout. This reckless lifewas greatly to his liking; I saw him occasionally by appointment, usuallyat Elmhurst, and became aware that his old quarrel with Captain Grant wasseemingly forgotten. There appeared to be some understanding, somespecial connection between them. They met once, at least, and I deliveredone note between them."
"Perhaps I can explain that later," I interrupted, "from somethingmentioned at Lee's headquarters."
"You! Oh, I wish you could, for their relationship has mystified me; hasmade me afraid something might be wrong with--with Eric."
"I think not, dear; say rather with Grant."
"If that be so, then it may prove the key to all the mystery. What madetheir intimacy so difficult to understand was that I knew the captain'sdislike of Eric had in no way diminished. He spoke of him as savagely asever."
"Perhaps he played a part--his ultimate purpose revenge."
"It might be that--yes, it might be that, and--and the consummation ofthat revenge may account for all which has occurred. But I must go onwith what I had to tell."
I had forgotten the passage of time, the men riding steadily in advance,constantly increasing their distance, even the possible importance of thedespatch within my jacket pocket. The evident distress of the girl ridingbeside me, whose tale, I felt sure, would fully justify her strangemasquerade in male garments, her risk of life and exposure to disgrace inmidst of fighting armies, held me neglectful of all else. I realizedthat, whatever the cause, I had unconsciously become a part of itsdevelopment, and that I was destined now to be even more deeply involved.Whatever the mystery I must solve it for her sake. My hand again soughthers, holding it in firm clasp. There was a sound of hoofs on the dustyroad behind us.
"It is Peter," she whispered. "What can have happened!"
The rider barely paused, turning his horse's head even as he spokehastily.
"Captain Grant is with the ambulance, Mistress Claire," he reported. "Hecame up alone about five minutes ago."
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