Horse-Shoe Robinson: A Tale of the Tory Ascendency

by John Pendleton Kennedy

  CHAPTER XXXII.

  MARY MUSGROVE'S PERPLEXITIES.

  As a mariner who watches the heavens from the deck, and notes the firstuprising of the small cloud, "no bigger than a man's hand," that to hispractised eye shows the sign of tempest; and anon, as the speck quicklychanges into a lurid mass, whence volume after volume of dun vapor isdriven in curled billows forward, covering the broad welkin with agloomy pall, he looks more frequently and more intently upwards, anxiousto lay his vessel safe, and assure himself of his proper course tosteer: so--not with the same doubt of safety, but with the same restlessinspection of the heavens--did Mary watch the slow approach of night.First, she looked wistfully at the declining sun, and observed withpleasure the night-hawk begin to soar: then, through the long twilight,she noted the thickening darkness, and saw the bat take wing, and heardthe frog croaking from his pool. And as the stars, one by one, brokeforth upon the night, it gladdened her to think the hour of her missionwas approaching, for she was troubled in her spirit and anxious toacquit herself of her charitable office; and perhaps, too, it may betold of her, without prejudice to her modest, maidenly emotions, a spurwas given to her wishes by the hope of meeting John Ramsay.

  For an hour after supper she paced the porch, and still looked out uponthe stars, to mark the slow waxing of the night; and, now and then shewalked forth as far as the mill, and lingered by the bank of the river,and again returned to ask the sentinel the hour.

  "You seem disturbed, Mary," said Macdonald, playfully. "Now, I'llventure to say I can guess your thoughts: this star-gazing is a greattell-tale. You were just now thinking that, as the tug of the war isover, some lad who has borne a musket lately, will be very naturallytripping this way to-night, instead of going home to see his mother.Come--isn't that a good guess?"

  "Do you know him, sir?" asked Mary, with composure.

  "Aye, to be sure I do: a good, brave fellow, who eats well, drinks well,and fights well."

  "All men do that now," replied the maiden, "but I am sure you are wrong,sir, if you think any such considers it worth his while to come here."

  "He must come quickly, or we cannot let him in without a countersign,"said the officer: "sergeant, order the tattoo to beat, it is nineo'clock. Mary, stay, I must cross-question you a little about this samegallant."

  "Indeed, sir, I did but jest, and so I thought you did. My father saysit is not proper I should loiter to talk with the men; good night, sir:it is our time for prayers." And with these words the young girlwithdrew into the house.

  In some half hour afterwards Mary escaped by another door and, taking acircuitous path through the garden, she passed behind the sentinel andsped towards the mill, intent upon keeping her appointment with thefriends of Butler. As soon as she reached the river bank, she quickenedher pace, and hurried with a nimble step towards the distant thicket.

  "What ho! who goes there?" shouted the voice of a man from theneighborhood of the mill: "who flies so fast?"

  "Faith, Tom, it must be a ghost," said a second voice, loud enough to beheard by the damsel, who now increased the speed with which she fledtowards the cover.

  In an instant two of the soldiers of the guard rushed upon the track ofthe frightened girl.

  "Spare me, good sir--for pity's sake, spare me!" exclaimed the maiden,suddenly turning round upon her pursuers.

  "Where away so fast?" said one of the men. "This is a strange time ofnight for girls to be flying into the woods. What matter have you inhand that brings you here--and what is your name?"

  "I am the daughter of Allen Musgrove," replied Mary indignantly.

  "Is it so?" said the first speaker; "then it is the Miller's owndaughter, and we ask your pardon. We only saw you flying along the bankof the river, and not knowing what it was, why we thought it right tofollow. But as it is all explained now, we will see you back to thehouse."

  "I can find my way without help," replied the maiden.

  "Now, that's not good-natured for so kind a girl as the miller'sdaughter ought to be," said the second soldier.

  "I will see if my father can protect me," said Mary, hastening backtowards the house so rapidly as almost to run. "I will know ifLieutenant Macdonald will allow me to be insulted."

  With a hurried step she entered upon the porch, and, without stopping toparley with those who occupied this part of the dwelling, retired to herchamber and threw herself into a chair, where she sat for some timepanting with affright. As she gradually recovered her strength, shebegan to turn her thoughts upon her recent discomfiture; and it was witha deep sense of chagrin and disappointment, that she reflected upon hernot being able successfully to renew her enterprise on the same night.The hour of meeting had arrived; the officers of the guard were stillfrequenting the porch; her conduct had already excited notice, and ifshe wished to be in a condition to render future service, her mostobvious duty was to postpone any further attempt to deliver the papersuntil another time. On the other hand, she had reason to fear that JohnRamsay would be hovering near to ascertain the cause of her failure tomeet him, and might rashly resort to the same mode of conveying a signalwhich he had successfully practised heretofore. This would infallibly,she believed, provoke an investigation that might entirely frustrate alltheir views. "But then John is a good soldier," she said, in the way ofself-consolation, "and will know that the enemy is awake; because if itwas not so, he would be sure I would keep my word. And if he only takesthat notion into his head, he is too careful to run the chance ofspoiling all by coming here."

  Still, with some little mistrust as to John's soldiership when itcrossed the path of his love, which naturally, she reflected, makes aman rash, she thought it best to provide against accident, by throwingherself into the company of the officers who loitered about the door inidle discourse with her father. She accordingly left her room, and, withan anxious and troubled heart, went out and seated herself quietly onthe steps of the porch, where she remained for some time a silent butinattentive listener to the conversation of those around her.

  As a part of that system of things by which it is contrived that thecurrent of true love shall never run smooth, I have ever found that whenit was peculiarly fitting that some grandam, uncle, cousin, father, orguest, should retire early to bed, in order that some scheme of interestto young lovers might be successfully achieved; precisely on such nightsis the perversity of fate most conspicuous, in inclining the minds ofsuch grandam, uncle, cousin, and so forth, to sit up much longer thanthey are wont; thus showing that the grooves and dovetails of things inthis world are not nicely fitted to the occasions of those who deal inthe tender passion. And so it befel for poor Mary Musgrove this night.

  The hour was now fast verging upon eleven, and she anxiously noted everysentence that was spoken, hoping it was to be the last; and then shetrembled to think that John, regardless of the danger, might be lurkingnear, and indiscreetly expose himself. And still the talkers discoursedas if they meant to sit up all night. It was a delicious, cool hour,after a sultry day, and there was luxury in the breeze; but as theminutes were counted over by the maiden, in their slow passage, herfears increased. At length, far off, as if it were a mile away, theclear notes of one whistling an old tune were heard. Mary involuntarilystarted from her seat, and moved along the little pathway towards thegate, her heart beating against her bosom as if it would have"overbourne its continents." The signal notes freshened upon the air,and the tune came forth blithely and boldly, showing that the wayfarerwas trudging, with a light heart, down the main road towards the mill.The party in the porch, however, were too much engrossed in theircolloquy to notice the incident. The whistling came still nearer, until,at last, it seemed to be scarce a gunshot from the house. Beyond thispoint it did not advance; but here indicated that the person from whomit proceeded had halted. If Mary's cheek could have been brought to thelight, it would have shown how the blood had deserted it from very fear:her whole frame shook with this emotion. To exhibit her unconcern,which, in truth, was most sadly affected, she mingled
amongst thecompany in the porch, and leant against the door-post. Still thewhistling continued, with no symptom of retreat, and Mary impatientlywalked towards the further end of the house. "John Ramsay makes a foolof himself," she muttered peevishly. "Hasn't he the sense to see Icannot get out? What keeps the simple man dallying shilly-shally at thefence, as if he actually wanted them to take him? I don't believe in themighty sense and wisdom of these men! If John had half an eye he wouldsee that I couldn't get away to-night."

  As the maiden grew fretful, her fears had less mastery over her; andnow, taking heart of grace, she returned to the porch.

  "Sergeant," said Macdonald, calling to one of his men, "take two filesand patrole the road until you ascertain who that fellow is who makeshimself so merry to-night. I thought it some fool," he continued,addressing himself to Allen Musgrove, "who, as the poet says, 'whistledas he went for want of thought,' but he seems to have a hankering afterthese premises that is not exactly to my mind. Perhaps, after all,Mary," he added privately in the maiden's ear; "it is the lad I wastelling you of; and as he is a bashful youth, we will bring him in byforce. You know, he can't help that; and old dad here can never blameyou if I should make the fellow come to see you against your will.Sergeant, treat the man civilly, you understand."

  "It is not worth your while to be sending after Adam Gordon," said Mary,with some slight confusion in her accent; "he is only half-witted; andalmost the only thing he does for a living, is to come down of nightshere to the mill-dam, to bob for eels. If it wasn't for that, his motherwould go many a day without a meal."

  "No matter, we will bring Adam in," replied the lieutenant, "and if heis good at his sport, why we will go and join him."

  "He is shy of company," said Mary, still faltering in her speech, "andwill not come amongst strangers."

  Partly from a spirit of resignation, partly to avoid further exposure ofher feelings, and in part too, perhaps, from some slight feeling ofremorse, such as is natural to a virtuous and youthful mind at beingobliged to practise a deceit however lawful (as I contend it was inthis case), the maiden withdrew into the parlor, where, unseen by any,she offered up a short and earnest prayer for direction and forgiveness.

  Meantime the patrole had set out, and, after the lapse of a short time,returned, when the officer reported that before his arrival, the personthey had gone in quest of had left the place, and, in the darkness ofthe night, they had no clue to follow him. This was scarcely announcedbefore the same whistle was heard, at the same remote point where it hadfirst attracted Mary's notice.

  "It is as our young mistress has said," muttered Macdonald, "somebumpkin, too shy to be caught, and not worth the catching. We have satit out to-night long enough, friend Musgrove, so let's to bed."

  In a few moments the party betook themselves to their several places ofrest.

  As Mary prepared herself for her couch, the anxious events of the nightbusied her thoughts, and the image of John Ramsay was summoned upalternately to be reproved and applauded. "If he is foolhardy," shesaid, as she laid her head on the pillow, "no one will say he isn't wisebesides. And if he will be thrusting his head into danger, he knowsright well how to get it out again. So God bless him, for a proper manas he is!" And thus, in a better temper with her lover, the maiden fellasleep.

  In order to avert all suspicion of disloyalty from the miller's family,Christopher Shaw had offered his services to Macdonald, to do duty asone of the detachment, during the period of Butler's detention in thehouse. The offer had been accepted, and Christopher was appointed toserve in the character of a quarter-master, or purveyor for the littlegarrison,--a post, whose duties did not materially interfere with hisdaily occupation at the mill.

  Mary was in the habit of communicating to Christopher all her secrets,and of enlisting his aid in her plans whenever it was necessary. Andnow, soon after the morning broke, the maiden arose and went to themill, where she communicated to Christopher all the perplexities of thepreceding night.

  "The thing must be managed to-day," said the young man, after he hadheard the whole story. "I have provisions to collect from theneighborhood; and what is to hinder you, Mary, from riding out withme,--if it should only be to buy some eggs?--and then, what is to hinderus from popping in upon David Ramsay, and there fixing the wholematter?"

  "Will not the lieutenant be sending some of his own men with you?"inquired the maid.

  "He doesn't suspect us," answered Christopher, as cautiously as if thewalls of his mill had ears. "At any rate we can try it, you know, and ifthe thing should take a wrong turn, you can only stay at home; and wemay, at the worst, make another venture at night."

  "I have the letter in my bosom," said Mary, "and will be readyimmediately after breakfast."

  When the appointed time arrived, things went as favorably as Mary couldhave wished. Her good spirits had returned; and she plied her householdduties with a happy cheerfulness in her looks that completely disarmedall suspicion. She received the banter of Macdonald, as to the cause ofher restlessness on the preceding night, with perfect good nature; andwhen Christopher announced to the commanding officer his purpose ofgoing out upon a purveying ride, and invited his cousin to accompanyhim, she accepted the proposal with such a tone of laughing pleasure, asput it on the footing of a pastime.

  The horses were brought to the door, and the maiden and her escort rodecheerily forth. They were not long in accomplishing the five or sixmiles that brought them to David Ramsay's cabin. I need not tell theaffectionate concern with which Mary Musgrove met her lover, JohnRamsay; nor how she upbraided him as a silly fellow, for tramping andtrudging about the mill, and whistling his signals, when he ought tohave known, by her not coming to meet him, that there was good reasonfor it. Nor is it important to detail the circumstances of Horse Shoe'sand John's fruitless expedition, and their disappointment at not seeingMary; and how shrewdly, last night, Robinson guessed the true cause ofit; and how entirely he agreed with the maiden, beforehand, in thinkingJohn a venturesome, harebrained fool, to put himself in danger, when hemight have been certain it would have ended as it did, in a run from"the rascally red coats," as John had to run to get out of the clutchesof the patrole. My story requires that I should pass these things by,and go to the business in hand.

  Horse Shoe and Ramsay had grown exceedingly impatient, both because theywere in hourly danger of being surprised by casual parties of the enemy,and because the time for useful action was fast gliding away. They hadused every precaution to keep their visit to David Ramsay's a profoundsecret to the neighborhood; and had, with that object, lain perdue inone of the small cabins, from which they might watch the approach ofvisitors, and, if need required, secure an immediate retreat. During theday, they seldom left their concealment, confining all their out-dooroperations to the night.

  A consultation was held in David Ramsay's cabin,--the letters wereproduced and delivered to Horse Shoe, and the instructions intended forhim by Butler were carefully read. It was resolved that Horse Shoeshould set out for the Dove Cote without delay, taking the route throughthe mountain country of North Carolina, as that least likely to beinterrupted by the British troops. John Ramsay, for the present, was toreturn to the Fair Forest camp, to inform Williams of the state ofaffairs; and he was hereafter to act as occasion might suggest.Christopher Shaw and Mary were to attend upon Butler, and communicatewhatever might transpire of interest to David Ramsay, who promised tofind means of intercourse with Williams or Sumpter, as circumstancesshould allow.

  These matters being arranged, Mary and Christopher Shaw took theirleaves of Ramsay's family, and went about the ostensible object of theirexpedition.

  Horse Shoe's plan of travel during the first and most perilous stages ofhis journey towards Virginia, was to avail himself of the darkness ofthe night; and he accordingly resolved to set out as soon as this dayshould draw to a close. His immediate cares were, therefore, directed tomaking all the necessary preparations for his departure. Captain Peterwas carefully tended, and supplied with a
double allowance of provender;provisions were stowed away, both for himself and his trusty beast: hispistols were put in order: his rifle cleaned out, and a supply ofammunition provided; and, finally, the letters were sewed up in aleather pouch, and buckled around his body by a strap, inside of hisclothes. It was no inconsiderable item in the sergeant's preparation forhis expedition, to sit down and eat a meal, which, from the quantitybestowed, and the vigor with which the assault upon it was made, mighthave betokened a full week's starvation.

  The day waned, and the night came a welcome visitor to the sergeant;and, at that hour which old chroniclers designate as "inter canem etlupum," Captain Peter was brought to the door, ready dight for travel.Ramsay's family stood around,--and whilst Andy, with boyish affection,held Horse Shoe's rifle in his hand, the sergeant feelingly spoke thewords of parting to his friends;--then, with a jaunty air of carelessmirth, springing into his saddle, and receiving his trusty weapon fromthe young comrade of his late gallant adventure, he rode forth with asstout a heart as ever went with knight of chivalry to the field ofromantic renown.