The Washington times., 1902-06-22

| look, Tho courtesy with which the of
flcer Of the post conferred with me abou
the papers, after / had shown him. a
his order, what carried, and the kind
ness with which he then sped us on oul
way with fresh horses, requesting me-
to take Hazeltine's dispatches with me
did not carry off the cold feeling tina
had setteld somewhere in the pit o
my stomach at the mans look.
However. we were in we'll guarded
territory now, and passed post aftel
post on our ride into the city. Al
Greenwich we stopped moment for tht
last outpost examination. and then rode
on down by the waters side through q
muddy road over the creek and into the
town
IT was a dusky, foggy night, witt
signs of rain, and high wind that sem
darkness. and light over the Shiny
street in quick succession as the
clouds swept over the moon. l hac
| little time to notice much. but al
| the top of the town We passed on the
left a long row of buildings that knew
must be the great barracks.
Further on were the ruins of beau
| tiful church on the right, that / knew
| too, must be Trinity Church, burned In
| the great fire of few years before. II
| lay close by the old wall Of the town
now fallen into disuse, and we met many
! people cropping along here and there in
the mud and a crowd of carriages, in
terspersed with a chariot or two. Once
VIC must needs wait few moments till
| a line of vehicles could move on, and
one of the chariots brought back to my
mind certain wet country road and
such another vehicle tilted over to one
side, with the face of young girl look
ing out of its windows at me.
What the devil means this crowd?"
said I.
Crowd. mani" said Acton. why.
do you not know you are in a city, my
friend? And that just below here Clin-
ton holds court as high and mighty as
George the Third at Windsor? Where,
think yc, are We. then-in camp"
I asked
AYE, here we are" he answered as
We came opposite the head of the line
of carriages, which we're discharging
ladies with silken gowns and powdered
wigs at covered bit of canvas that
hung ove.' the door of the great house.
The place was lit from top to bottom.
and could hear fiddles jingling out a
dance amidst the hum of a hundred
voices, jocose greetings of men, and
one coachman to move On and to an
other to mavc up. t was bustling
and brilliant scene out there In the
dimly lighted, filthy street. For no
light, except what came from a Ian
thorn her and there over door, or
escaped from the great house. served
to give the eye the smallest chance.
Beyond doubt that is the house.
and he holds court this very night" +"
said Acton. as we came opposite the en-
trance with the line of carriages be-
tween US and the door. T was jam,
indeed. and before We knew it, We were
caught between two lines Of cursing
coachmen. one driving up to the door.
the other turning and moving back.
A chariot drew up, and 1 had leaned
down on my horses neck to look
through the windows up the steps and
into the house. when the vicious hiss of
whip on the other side sent my beast,
that was none of the best, by a side
jump against the coach, bringing me up
to the door with thump that shook
the whole vehicle. And then I had like
to have fallen into the mud: for there,
looking at me out of the window, In
some white and silken gown, with
whittier neck peeping out from under a
furry cape, was a face 1 had had by
me these ten days.
She knew me on the instant, and
started forward with a cry of surprise,
as If to speak. And then, on the i'm
pulse. the powdered head went up with
a movement l knew full we'll, and the
stare that only a highbred woman
knows how to call up from some depth
within her met my eye, as gruff voice
behind her cried:
Have a care there, my man.
What the devil. would you ride in
here by us? Come, Deborah, we are at
the door, and 1 was pulled on by the
frightened horse and reached the door
across the street, l know not how, in a
daze of mind that finally landed me in
a ditch by the gutter. as slid off his
back
She had known me, would swear; and
yet she had given me as cold a denial
as ever heartless wench gave any man.
And yet was but human nature to
think it-yet I had saved more than
her life but a fortnight ago, and risked
my own skin in the saving. But what
all, and what right had l to think it |
could or should be otherwise?
Still. what tricks the mind will play! |
[ knew then that that face had been by |
me ever since the night at the old tav-
srn. and in my foolish thoughts the |
next meeting had happened again and |
again; but the reality was of a far |
different order fromsthe dream.
CHAPTER XVII.
n WHICH THE SPECIAL MESSENGER OF |
SIR HENRY CLINTON Is FED.