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Sir William said something below his breath with a manner
suggestive of an oath, shrugged his shoulders, and turned to
Janice. "Old friends are not to be controlled, Miss Meredith,"
he said, "and since we are to have a third for our interview,
let me make you known to each other. Mrs. Loring, Miss
Meredith."

"I pray you, madam, to believe," entreated Janice, even as
she made her curtsey, "that you entirely misinterpreted--"

"I care not what you meant," broke in Mrs. Loring, without
the pretence of returning the obeisance. "Say your say
to Sir William, and be gone."

"Damn you, Jane!" swore the general, bursting into a
rage. "If you cannot behave yourself I will call in the
servants and have you put from the room. Please be seated,
Miss Meredith, and tell me in what manner I can serve you."

"I came, Sir William, to beg that you would give my father
some position by which he could earn a living. We are
totally without money, and getting daily deeper in debt."

"Your wish is a command," replied Sir William, gallantly,
"but are you sure 't is best? Remember that the moment
your father takes position from me he commits himself far
more in the cause than he has hitherto, and the rebels are
making it plain they intend to punish with the utmost severity
all who take sides with us."

"But even that is better than--than--than living on charity,"
exclaimed Janice. "I assure you that anything is better--"

"Enough!" declared the general, as the girl hesitated.
"Your father shall be gazetted one of the wardens of abandoned
property at once. 'T will give him a salary and fees
as well."

"Ah, Sir William, how can I ever thank you enough?"
murmured the girl, feeling, indeed, as if an end had come to
her troubles. She made a deep curtsey to Mrs. Loring, a
second to the general, and then took the hand he offered her
to the front door. "I beg, Sir William," she said at parting,
"that you will assure Mrs. Loring that I really did not--"

The general interrupted her with a laugh. "A man with
an evil smell takes offence at every wrinkled nose," he asserted,
"and you hit upon a subject on which my friend has perhaps
cause to be sensitive."

Janice ran rather than walked the whole way home, and,
not stopping when she reached the house to tell her father
of her successful mission, or even to remove her cloak and
calash, she tripped upstairs to her room, went straight to her
bureau, and, pulling open the bottom drawer, took from it the
unset miniature, and scrutinised it closely for a moment.
"'T is she beyond question!" the girl ejaculated. "And I
always thought of her as a young female, never suspecting it
might have been some time painted. Why, she is a good ten
years older than Colonel Brereton, or at least eight, let alone
that she paints and powders! If that is the ill-mannered
creature he gave his love to, I have little pity for him."

This decided, the maiden sought out her father and informed
him of her mission and its successful result.

"Why, Jan," exclaimed her father, "thou 'rt indeed a
wonderful lass to have schemed and carried it through. I'd
have spoken to Sir William myself, but he keeps himself so
secluded that never a chance have I had to speak to him
save in public. It is for the best, however, for I doubt not
he paid more heed to thy young lips than ever he would to
mine. Hadst thou told me, however, I would have gone with
thee, for it must have been a tax on thy courage to have
ventured alone."

I did n't even let myself think of it," replied the daughter,
"and, indeed, 't was so much easier than the thought of your
further increasing your debt to Lord Clowes that 't was
nothing." Then, after a slight pause, she asked: "Dadda,
who is the Mrs. Loring I found at Sir William's?"

"Humph!" grunted the squire, with obvious annoyance.
"'T is the wife of Joshua Loring, commissary of prisoners."

"Has she been long married to him?" asked Janice.

"That I know not; and the less ye concern yourself, Jan,
with her, the better."

Despite this recommendation, Janice once again repeated
her question, this time making it to Andre at the Assembly
that evening.

"I know not," the captain told her, pursing up his lips and
raising his eyebrows. Then he called to his opposite in the
quadrille: "Cathcart, can you tell me how long Mrs. Loring
has rejoiced in that title of honour?"

The earl laughed as if Andre had said something witty, and
made reply: "Since ever I can remember, and that is a full
five years."

When later the dancers adjourned to the supper-room,
Lord Cathcart tossed a billet across the table to Andre, and
he in turn passed it to Mobray, who was squiring Janice.
The baronet held it so that she could see the message as well,
and inscribed on the paper were the lines:--

"Your question don't think me a moment ignoring:
'How long has she honoured the surname of Loring?'
Wiseacre, first tell, how a man without honour
Could ever confer that fair jewel upon her?"

Sir Frederick, before handing it back, took Janice's pencil
from her dancing-card, and scribbled on the back of the
quip:--

"The answer is plain, for by means of her face,
The lady secured him an honourable place.
In return for the favour, by clergy and vow,
She made sure of her honour, but who knows when or Howe?"

And from that interchange of epigrams Janice asked no
further questions relative to Mrs. Loring, unless it might be
of herself.

XLIII
A CHOICE OF EVILS

At this ball Janice was gladdened by word from
Andre that he had effected the sale of the miniature,
though he maintained absolute silence as to who
the purchaser was, nor did she choose to inquire.
The next morning brought a packet from him containing
a rouleau of guineas, and so soon as they were counted, the
girl hurried to the room on the ground floor which the commissary
had taken as a half office, and, after an apology for
the unannounced intrusion, said,--

"You have been good enough, Lord Clowes, to favour us
with sundry loans, for which we can never be grateful enough,
but 't is now in our power to repay them."

"Pay me!" cried the baron, incredulously.

"Yes," replied Janice, laying down the pile of gold on the
desk. "Wilt tell me the exact amount?"

The guineas were too indisputable for Clowes to question
the girl's ability to carry out her intention, but he demanded,
"How came you by such a sum of gold?"

"'T is--That concerns thee not," replied the girl, with
spirit.

"And does thy father know?"

"I ask you, Lord Clowes," Janice responded, "to tell me
the amount we owe you."

For a moment the officer sat with a scowl on his face, then
suddenly he threw it off, and with a hearty, friendly manner
said: "Nay, Miss Meredith, think naught of it. You 're
welcome ten times over to the money, and what more ye
shall ever need." He rose as he spoke, and held out his
hand toward the girl. "Generosity is not the monopoly of
razorless youngsters of twenty."

Janice, ignoring the hand, said: "Once again, Lord
Clowes, I ask you to inform me of the amount of our debt,
which if you will not tell me, you will force me to leave all
the money."

The angry frown returned to the commissary's face, and all
the reply he made was to touch a bell. "Tell Mr. Meredith
I would have word with him in my office," he said to the
servant. Then he turned to Janice and remarked, "If ye
insist on knowing the amount, 't is as well that your father
give it to ye, since clearly ye trust me in nothing."

"Oh, Lord Clowes," begged Janice, "wilt thou not let me
pay this without calling in dadda? I--I acted without first
speaking to him, and I fear me--" There her words were
cut short by the entrance of the squire.

"I sent for ye, man, to help us unsnarl a coil. Your
daughter insists on repaying the money I have loaned ye, and
I thought it best ye should be witness to the transaction."
As he ended he pointed to the pile of coin.

"Odds bodikins!" exclaimed Mr. Meredith, as his eye
followed the motion. "And where got ye such a sum,
Jan?"

"Oh, dadda," faltered the girl, "'t is a long story, of which
I promise to make you a full narration, once we are alone,
though I fear me you will think that I have done wrong.
But, meantime, will you not tell me how much you owe Lord
Clowes, and let me pay him? Believe me, the money is
honestly come by."

"No doubt, no doubt," said the commissary, with a rough
laugh. "Young macaronis are oft known to give girls hundreds
of pounds and get nothing in return."

All the reply Janice made was to go to the door. "Whenever
you will come to the parlour, dadda, you shall know all,
but I will not stay here to endure such speeches."

Without thought of the gold, Mr. Meredith was hurrying
after his daughter, when Clowes interrupted him.

"The explanation is simple enough, Meredith," he said,
"and I cannot but take it in bad part that your maid should
borrow of Mobray in order to repay my loan to you."

"I cannot believe that that is the explanation, Clowes,"
protested Mr. Meredith. "But if it is, be assured that the
money shall be returned him, and we will still stand your
debtors." Then he sought his daughter, and she poured out
to him the whole story of the miniature.

"Wrong I may have been, dadda, to have taken it to begin
with, but Colonel Brereton refused to receive it from me, and
when he himself placed it about my picture, I could not but
feel that it had truly become mine, and that I could dispose
of it."

"But who bought it of ye, Jan?" inquired the parent.

"That I know not," said the girl, though hesitating and
colouring at the question in her own mind whether she were
not prevaricating, for Andre's face and her own suspicions had
really convinced her who was the nameless buyer. "Captain
Andre assured me that the frame was fully worth five hundred
pounds."

"That I will not gainsay, lass," replied the squire, "and
the only blame I will lay on ye is that ye did not consult me
before acting, for I could have negotiated it as well, and should
have so managed as not to have offended Clowes. However, I
make no doubt he'll not hold rancour when he knows that
the money came by the sale of a piece of jewelry, and was not
merely borrowed. Did ye take your picture from the frame?"

"No, dadda. I did so once before, only to bring suspicion
on myself; so this time I let it remain."

"Ye might as well have removed it," said Mr. Meredith,
"for it could have added no money value to it." Yet the
squire had once been a lover, and should have known otherwise.
This said, he returned to Clowes, and sought to mollify
him by a statement of how the money had been obtained.

"Humph!" grunted the baron. "She'd better have brought
the trinket to me, for I'd gladly have been the purchaser, for
more even than she got by it."

"I told the lass she should have left the sale of it to me,"
answered the squire, "but ye know what women are."

"Egad, I sometimes think, shallow as the sex is, no man fully
knows that. However, we will waste no further parley on the
matter. Put the money in your purse, man, for your future
needs, and think naught about the debt to me."

"Nay, Clowes. Since the money is here, 't is as well to
pay up." And protest and argue as the commissary would,
nothing would do the squire but to count out the amount on
the spot from the heap of guineas, and to pocket, not without
some satisfaction, the small surplus that remained. Then he
left the room in great good cheer; but for some time after he
was gone, the baron, leaving the gold piled on the table, paced
the room in an evident fit of temper, while muttering to himself
and occasionally shaking his head threateningly.

The gazetting of Mr. Meredith served only to increase this
half-stifled anger, and on the very evening his appointment
was announced in the "Pennsylvania Ledger," the commissary
recurred to his proposal.

"I heard by chance to-day that young Hennion had fallen
a victim to the camp fever," he told the squire, "and only
held my tongue before the ladies through not wishing to be
the reporter of bad tidings--though, as I understood it,
neither Mrs. Meredith nor Miss Janice really wished the
match."

The father took time over a swallow of Madeira, then said:
"'T is a grievous end for the good lad."

"Ay, though I am not hypocrite enough to pretend that
it affects me save for its freeing of your daughter, and so
removing the one objection ye made to my taking her to
wife."

Once more the squire gained a moment's breathing space
over his wine before he replied: "Ye know, Clowes, that I'd
willingly give ye the girl, but I find that she will have none
of it, and 't is a matter on which I choose not to force her
inclination."

"Well said; and I am the last man to wish an unwilling
spouse," responded the aspirant. "But ye know women's
ways enough not to be their dupes. In truth, having no stability
of mind, the sex resemble a ship without a rudder, veering
with every shift of the wind, and never sailing two days alike.
But put a man at the helm, and they steer as straight a course
as could be wished. Janice was hot to wed me once, and
though she took affront later because she held me responsible
for her punishment, yet she herself owned, but a few weeks
ago, that she was still bound to me, which shows how little her
moods mean. Having your consent secured, it will take me
but a brief wooing to gain hers, that ye shall see."

"Well," rejoined Mr. Meredith, "she's now old enough to
know her own mind, and if ye can win her assent to your suit,
mine shall not be lacking. But 't is for ye to do that."

"Spoken like a true friend, and here 's my hand on it,"
declared the commissary. "But there is one matter in which
I wish ye to put an interfering finger, not so much to aid me
as to save the maid from hazard. That fopling Mobray is
buzzing about her and pilfering all the sweets that can be had
short of matrimony--"

"Nay, Clowes, he's no intriguer against my lass, that I am
bound to say. 'T was only this morning, the moment he had
news of Hennion's death, he came to me like a man, to ask
permission to address her."

"Ho, he's deeper bitten by her charms than I thought!
retorted the suitor. "Or, on second thought, more like 't is
a last desperate leap to save himself from ruin. Let me warn
ye that he has enough paper out to beggar him thrice over,
and 't is only a question of time ere his creditors come down
on him and force him to sell his commission; after which he
must sink into beggary."

"I sorrow to hear it. He 's a likely lad, and has kindly
stood us in stead more than once."

"And just because of his taking parts, he is likely to keep
your girl's heart in a state of incertitude, for 't is only mortal
for eighteen to fancy twenty more than forty-four. Therefore,
unless ye want a gambling bankrupt for a son-in-law, give
him his marching orders."

"I'll not do that after his kindness to my wife and child;
but I'll take good care to warn Janice."

"Look that ye don't only make him the more interesting to
her. Girls of her age think little of where the next meal is to
come from, and dote on the young prodigal."

"Have no fear on that score," replied the father.

On the morning following this conversation Janice was
stopped by the commissary as she was passing his office.
"Will ye give me the honour of your presence within for a
moment?" he requested. "I have something of import to
say to ye."

With a little trepidation the girl entered, and took the seat
he placed for her.

Taking a standing position at a respectful distance, Lord
Clowes without circumlocution plunged at once into the object
of the interview. "That I have long wished ye for my wife,
Miss Meredith," he said with frank bluffness, "is scarce worth
repeating. That in one or two instances I have given ye
cause to blame or doubt me, I am full conscious; 't is not in
man, I fear, to love such beauty, grace, and elegance, and keep
his blood ever within bounds. 'T was this led me to suggest
our elopement, and to my effort to bind ye to the troth. In
both of these I erred, and now crave a pardon. Ye can scarce
hold me guilty that my love made me hot for the quickest marriage
I could compass, or that, believing ye in honour pledged to
me, I should seek to assure myself of the plight from your
own lips, ungenerous though it was at the moment. It has
since been my endeavour to show that I regretted my impulsive
persecution, and I trust that my long forbearance and self-effacement
have proved to ye that your comfort and happiness
are the first object of my heart."

"You have been very good to us all," answered Janice,
"and I would that I were able to repay in full measure all we
owe to you. But--"

"Ye can, and by one word," interjected the suitor.

"But, Lord Clowes," she continued, with a voice that trembled
a little, "I cannot yield to thy wish. Censurable I know
myself to be--and no one can upbraid me more than I upbraid
myself--yet between the two wrongs I must choose,
and 't is better for both of us that I break the implied promise,
entered into at a moment when I was scarce myself than
to make a new one which I know to be false from the beginning,
and impossible to fulfil."

"Of the old promise we will say naught, Miss Meredith,"
replied the baron. "If your sense of right and wrong absolve
ye, Baron Clowes is not the man to insist upon it. But there
is still a future that ye must not overlook. 'T will be years,
if ever, ere ye once again enjoy your property, and though
this appointment--which is like to prove dear-bought--for
the moment enables ye to face the world, it is but a short-lived
dependence. To ye I will confide what is as yet known
to but a half-dozen: his Majesty has accepted Sir William
resignation, and he leaves us so soon as Sir Henry Clinton
arrives. The new commander will have his own set of hungry
hangers-on to provide with places, and your father's days will
be numbered. In my own help I shall be as unstinting as in the
past, but it is quite on the cards that I, too, lose my appointment,
in which case I shall return to England. Would not
a marriage with me make--"

"But I love you not," broke in Janice.

"Ye have fallen in love with that--"

"I love no one, Lord Clowes; and indeed begin to fear
that I was born without a heart."

"Then your objection is that of a very young girl who
knows nothing of the world. Miss Meredith, the women
who marry for love are rare indeed, and but few of them fail
of a bitter disappointment. I cannot hope that my arguments
will convince ye of this, but counsel with your parents, and ye'll
find they bear me out. On the one side stands eventual penury
and perhaps violence for ye all; on the other, marriage with
a man who, whatever his faults, loves ye hotly, who will give ye
a title and wealth, and who will see to it that your parents
want for nothing. 'T is an alternative that few women would
hesitate over, but I ask no answer now, and would rather
that ye give none till ye have taken consideration upon it."

Janice rose. "I--I will talk with dadda and mommy,"
she said, "and learn their wishes." But even as she spoke
the words a slight shiver unsteadied her voice.

XLIV
A CARTEL OF EXCHANGE

After Janice left him the commissary-general
mounted a horse, and, riding to the Franklin house,
asked for Captain Mobray.
"I have called, sir," he announced, as the baronet
entered the room, "on two matters--"

"Have they to do with the service, my Lord?" interrupted
Mobray; "for otherwise I must decline--"

"First," the caller went on unheedingly, "a number of past-due
bills of yours have come into my possession in exchange
for special victuals or stores, and I wish to learn your intention
concerning them."

"I--In truth--I--" haltingly began Sir Frederick, his
face losing colour as he spoke. "I have had the devil's turn
of luck of late, and--and I am not in a position to take them
up at the moment. I trust that you'll give me time, and not
press me too harshly."

With a smile that expressed irony qualified by enjoyment,
the creditor replied: "'T is a pleasure to aid a man to whom
I am indebted for so much courtesy."

Sir Frederick's ashen hue changed to a ruddy one, as he
said: "Lord Clowes, 't is a bitter mouthful for a man to eat,
but I ask your clemency till my luck changes, for change it
must, since cards and dice cannot always run against one.
I know I deserve it not at your hands, after what has
passed--"

"Cease your stuttering, man," ordered the commissary.
"Had I revenge in my heart I'd have sent the bailiff not
come myself. The bills shall wait your convenience, and all
I ask for the lenience is that ye dine with me and do me one
service. Ye did me a bad stroke with Miss Meredith; now
I ask ye to offset it by telling her what my vengeance has
been."

Mobray hesitated. "Lord Clowes, I will do nothing to
trick Miss Meredith, desperately placed as I am."

"Chut! Who talks of trickery? Ye told her the facts of
my parole; therefore ye owe it to me, even though it may not
serve your own suit, to tell her as well what is in my favour."

"And so help you to win her. I cannot do her that wrong,
my Lord."

"Is it worse to tell her only the truth about me than to
seek to persuade her into a marriage with a bankrupt?"

"You state it unsparingly."

"Not more so, I doubt not, than ye did the matter of my
parole--which some day I shall be able to justify, and the
gentlemen of the army will then sing a very altered tune--
with this difference, that I say it to your face and ye did
not."

With bowed head Sir Frederick answered: "You are right,
my Lord, and I will say what I can in your favour to Miss
Meredith."

"Spoke like an honest man. Fare ye well till next Wednesday,
when I shall look for ye to a three-o'clock dinner."

Whatever pain and shame the words cost him, honourably
the baronet fulfilled his promise by going to the commissary's
quarters the following day and telling Janice the facts. The
girl listened to his explanation with a face grave almost to
sadness. "I--What you have told me, Sir Frederick,"
she said gently at the end, "is of much importance to me just
at this time, and I thank you."

"I know, I know," groaned the young officer, miserably,
"and 't is only part of my horrible run of luck that I
should--that--ah--Take him, Miss Meredith, and end
my torture."

"Can you advise me to marry Lord Clowes?"

"After his generosity to me, in honour I must say nothing
against him, but 't is asking too much of human nature for me
to aid his suit."

[Illustration: "Art comfortable, Janice?"]

"I--oh, I know not what to do!" despairingly wailed the
girl. "Mommy says 't is for me to decide, and dadda thinks
I cannot do better, and to the ear it seems indeed the only
thing to do. Yet I shudder every time I think of it, and
twice, when I have dreamed that I was his wife, I have waked
the whole house with my screams to be saved from him."

"Miss Meredith," burst out the baronet, "give me the right
to save you. You know I love you to desperation; that I
would live to make you--"

"Ah, pray, Sir Frederick," begged Janice, "do not add to
my pain and difficulty. What you wish--"

"I crave a pardon for my words. 'T was a moment's selfish
forgetfulness of you and of my own position, that shall not
occur again." Mobray stooped and kissed a loose end of the
handkerchief the girl held, and hurried from the room.

As he was catching up his cloak and sabre in the hallway,
the door of the office opened. "Come in here a moment,
Sir Frederick," requested the commissary.

"I have done as I promised, and that is all I can do at the
moment," almost sobbed the young fellow. "Nor will I dine
here Wednesday, though you do your worst."

"Tush! Do as ye please as to that, but come in here now,
for I have a thing to say that concerns Miss Meredith's
happiness."

"And what is that?" demanded the baronet, as he
entered.

"I see by the G. O. that ye are named one of the commissioners
to arrange a cartel of exchange with the rebels at
Germantown to-day."

"Would to God it were to arrange a battle in which I
might fall!"

"'T is likely lists of prisoners will be shown, and should ye
chance to see the name of Leftenant Hennion on any of those
handed in by the rebels I recommend that ye do not advertise
the fact when ye return to Philadelphia."

"But the fellow's dead."

"Ye have been long enough in the service to know that
some die whose names never get on any return, and so some
are reported dead who decline to be buried. Let us not beat
about the bush as to what I mean. We are each doing our
best to obtain possession of this lovely creature, but the father
holds to his promise to the long-legged noodle, and, if he
is alive, our suits are hopeless. So let them continue to
suppose him--"

"Mine is so already," groaned Mobray. "But if 't were
not, I would not filch a woman's love by means of a deceit.
Nor--"

"Fudge! Hear me through. The girl has always hated
the match, which was one of her old fool of a father's conceiving,
and will thank any one who saves her from the fellow.
Let her say nay to us both, and it please her, but don't force
her to a marriage of compulsion by needless blabbing."