Books: Janice Meredith

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"I wish you were not leaving us, your Excellency," sighed
Janice.

"'T is one of the penalties of war," replied the general,
"that we are doomed to see little of the fair sex, and must be
content with an occasional sip of their society. Should we
winter near here, as now seems possible, I trust you will honour
Mrs. Washington and myself with your company at headquarters.
And one word ere we part, Mrs. Meredith. You
must not think that we make free with people's property, as we
seem to have done in your case. Finding your home unoccupied,
I made bold to take it for my headquarters; but the
quartermaster-general will pay you before we leave for such
use as I have made of it."

"We could not accept anything, your Excellency," protested
the hostess. "The obligation is with us, and I beg--"

"Be off with you to your stations, gentlemen," ordered
Washington, as he rose from the table; and having cleared the
room, he continued: "Nay, Mrs. Meredith, Congress allows
me my expenses, and 't is only just that you should be paid.
And however well provided you may be, a little ready money
will surely not be amiss?"

"Your Excellency is more thoughtful of our future than we
are ourselves," responded Mrs. Meredith. "For a moment I
had forgot our position; we will gladly accept payment."

"Would that I could as easily pay you for the pleasure you
have given me," said the general, shaking her hand. "Miss
Janice, we'll do our best," he went on, "to tie the British soldiery
into New York; but, whether we succeed or no, I wish
to hear of no more philandering with their officers. 'T is hard
enough to fight them in the field, without encountering them
in our softer moments; so see to it that you save your smiles
and blushes for us."

"I will, your Excellency," promised Janice, as she did both.

"Nay, nay, my child," he corrected, smiling. "I did not
mean that thou shouldst blush and smile for me. I am a
married man, and old enough to be thy father."

"'T is fortunate you are the first, your Excellency," laughed
the girl in turn, "or the latter should not protect you." And
as the general held out his hand she impulsively kissed it.

"I shall write Mrs. Washington that 't will never do for her
to leave me during another campaign," replied the commander,
reciprocating the salute. "Not but she will be very proud to
think that so charming a maid honours her husband with such
favours."

At the door the staff were already mounted and waiting their
chief. Farewells were completed with all save Brereton, who
for some reason had withdrawn a little from the group; and
these done, the cavalcade trotted off.

No sooner was it upon the road than Brereton spurred up
alongside of his superior, and, saluting, said in a dropped voice:
"Your Excellency, I had something of moment to say to the
Merediths, but 't was impossible to get private word, with all the
idlers and racketers and Jack-a-dandies of the army running in
and out upon them. May I not turn back? I will overtake
you ere many hours."

"Think you, sir," asked Washington, gravely, "I have no
occasion for my aides, that you make such a request?"

Jack flushed with mortification and temper. "I supposed
that, on the march, you could spare--"

"I can, my boy," interrupted the commander-in-chief with
a change of manner, "and was but putting off a take-in on you.
My own courting was done while colonel of the First Virginia regiment,
and well I remember how galling the military duties were.
'T is to be feared I was not wholly candid in the reasons calling
me from the regiment to Williamsburg, that I alleged to my
superiors, for my business at the capital took few hours, and
both going and returning I managed to stay many at 'White
House.' May your wooing speed as prosperously," he finished,
extending an arm and pressing his junior's hand warmly.
"And if by chance you should not overtake us till to-morrow,
I'll think of twenty years ago and spare you a reprimand."

"God save you, sir!" exclaimed Jack, in an undertone of
gratitude. "I--I love--She is--is so dear to me, that I
could not bear the thought of waiting." Wheeling his horse,
the rider gave him the spur.

The moment the general and staff had trotted away, Mrs.
Meredith turned to her daughter and asked, "Hast thou refused
Colonel Brereton, Janice?"

"No, mommy," faltered the girl.

"Then why did he ride off without a word to either of us?"

"I--'t is--I can only think that--that he has come to
care for Tibbie--being in and out of love easily--and so is
ashamed of the part he has played."

"'T is evident that I was right in my view that thy vanity had
misled thee," replied the mother. "But we'll not discuss its
meaning now, for I must find out how we stand. Try to make
thyself a task, child."

Her search for this took the maiden, closely followed by
Clarion, to the garden, where she found that weeds, if nothing
else, had thriven, though the perennials still made a goodly
show. Before beginning a war on the former, she walked to a
great tangle of honeysuckle that clustered about and overtopped
a garden seat, to pluck a bunch and stick it in the neckerchief
that was folded over her bosom; then she went to her favourite
rose-bush and kissed the one blossom July had left to it. "I'll
not pick you," she said, "since you are the only one."

The sound of galloping caught her attention as she raised
her head and though she could not see the rider, her ears told
her that he turned into Greenwood gate, even before the pace
was slackened. Not knowing what it might bode, the girl stood
listening, with an anxious look on her face. The cadence of
the hoof-beats ended suddenly, and silence ensued for a time;
then as suddenly, quick footsteps, accompanied by a tell-tale
jingle and clank, came striding along the path from the kitchen
to the port in the hedge. One glance Janice gave at the opposite
entrance, as if flight were in her thoughts, then, with a hand
resting on the back of the seat to steady herself, she awaited
the intruder.

Brereton paused in the opening of the box, as his eyes rested
on his love. "Would to Heaven," he exclaimed, "that I had
my colours and the time to paint you as you stand!"

Both relieved and yet more frightened, Janice, in an attempt
to conceal the latter feeling, remarked, "I thought you had
departed, sir."

"Think you I'd rest content without farewell, or choose to
have one with the whole staff as witnesses?" answered Jack, as
he came forward. "Furthermore, I had some matters of which
to speak that were not to be published to the world."

"Mommy is--"

"Where I'd have her," interjected the officer; "for what I
have to say is to you. First: I put the screws on old Hennion
and Bagby, and have their word that they will not push their
forfeiture bill, or in any other way molest you."

"We thank you deeply, Colonel Brereton."

"I rode to Brunswick and saw Parson McClave yesterday
afternoon, to bespeak his aid, and he says he is certain you
may live at peace here, if you will not seek to be rigorous with
your tenants, and that he will do his best to keep the community
from persecuting you."

"'T is glad news, indeed."

"Knowing how you were circumstanced, I then rode about
your farms and held interview with a number of your tenants
and pleaded with them that they pay a part of their arrears
in supplies; and several of the better sort gave me their word
that you should not want for food."

"'T was most thoughtful of you."

"Finally, I wrote a letter to your father, and have sent it
under a flag that was going to New York, telling him that you
were safe arrived at Greenwood."

"Ah, Colonel Brereton, how can we ever repay your kindness?"
murmured the girl, her eyes brightened and softened
by a mist of unshed tears.

"'T was done for my own ease. Think you I could have
ridden away, not knowing what risk or privation you might
have to suffer in my absence?"

"'T is only the greater cause for gratitude that you make
your ease depend on ours."

"That empties my packet of advices," said the aide; "and
--and--unless you have something to tell me, I'll--we'll
say a farewell and I'll rejoin the army."

"Would that I could thank you, sir, as you deserve; but
words mean so little that you have rendered me dumb," replied
Janice, feelingly.

"Can you not--Have you nothing else to say to me?"
he begged pleadingly.

"I--Indeed, I can think of nothing, Colonel Brereton,"
replied the maiden, very much flustered.

"Then good-by, and may God prosper you," ended Jack,
sadly, taking her hand and kissing it gently. He turned with
obvious reluctance, and went toward the house, but before he
had reached the hedge he quickly retraced his steps. "I--I
could not force my suit upon you when I found you in such
helplessness--not even when you gave me the purse--though
none but I can know what the restraint meant in torture," he
burst out; "and it seems quite as ungenerous to try to advantage
myself now of your moment's gratefulness. But my passion
has its limits of control, and go I cannot without--without--
Give me but a word, though it be a sentence of death to
my heart's desire."

Janice, whose eyes had been dropped groundward during
most of this colloquy, gave the pleader a come-and-go glance,
then said breathlessly, "I--'T is--Wha--wha--What
would you wish me to say?"

"What you can," cried the officer, impetuously.

"I--I would--'T is my desire to--to say what you
would have me."

Both her hands were eagerly caught in those of the suppliant.
"If you could--If--'T would be everything on earth--
more than life itself to me--could you but give me the faintest
hope that I might win you. Have you such an abhorrence
of me that you cannot give me the smallest guerdon
of happiness?"

"You err in supposing that I dislike you," protested Janice.

"Then why do you refuse all that is dearest to me? Why
turn from a devotion that would make your happiness its
own?"

"But I have n't," denied the girl, her heart beating wildly
and her breath coming quickly.

As the words passed her lips, she was impulsively yet tenderly
caught in her lover's arms and drawn to him. "What
have you done, then?" he demanded almost fiercely.

"I--I--oh! I don't know," she gasped.

"Then, as you have pity in you, grant my prayer?"

For a moment Janice, with down-bent head, was silent.
Then she raised her eyes to Jack's and said, "I will marry
you, Colonel Brereton, if dadda will let me."

LI
A FAREWELL AND A WELCOME

There was little weeding of the garden that fore-noon,
unless the brushing off with Jack's gauntlets
of some green moss from the garden seat, about
which clustered the honeysuckle, can be considered
such. Possibly this was done that more sprays of the vine
might be plucked, for when Sukey, after repeated calls from
the entry, finally came to summon them to dinner, Jack had a
bunch of it, and a single rose, thrust in his sword knot.

There was a pretence of affected unconsciousness at the
meal on the part of the three, and even of Peg, though the
servant made it difficult to maintain the fiction by several times
going off into fits of reasonless giggles not easy for those at
table to ignore. The repast eaten, Brereton drew Mrs. Meredith
aside for a word, and Janice took advantage of the freedom
to escape to her room, where she buried her face in the pillow,
as if she had some secret to confide to it.

From this she was presently roused by her mother's entrance,
and as the girl, with flushed cheeks and questioning look, met
her eyes, Mrs. Meredith said: "I think, my child, thou hast
acted for the best, and we will hope thy father will think so."

"Oh, mommy, dost think he'll consent?"

"I fear not, but that must be as God wills it. Go down
now, for Colonel Brereton says he must ride away, and only
tarries for a word with thee."

Janice gave one glance at the mirror, and put her hands
to her hair, with a look of concern. "'T is dreadfully disordered."

"He will not notice it, that I'll warrant," prophesied the
matron.

With his horse's bridle over his arm, the lover was waiting
for her on the front porch. "Will you not walk with me down
the road a little way?" he begged. "'T is so hard to leave
you."

"I--I think I had better not," urged the girl, showing
trepidation. "'T would surely delay you too--"

"Ah, Janice," interrupted the lover, "why--what have I
done that you should show such fear of me?"

"I'm not afraid of you," denied Janice, hurriedly; "and of
course I'll go, if--if you think it best."

"Then what is it frightens you, sweetheart?" persisted Jack,
as they set off.

The maiden scrutinised the ground and horizon as if seeking
an explanation ere she replied shyly, "'T is--'t is indeed
no fear of you, but you--you never ask permission."

The officer laughed exultingly. "Then may I put my arm
about you?" he requested.

"'T will make walking too difficult."

"How know you that?" demanded Jack.

"'T is--'t is easily fancied."

Brereton's free arm encircled the girl. "Try to fancy it,"
he entreated. "And never again say that I do not ask permission."

A mile down the road Jack halted. "I'll not let you go
further," he groaned; "nor must I linger, for reminder of my
wound still troubles me if I ride too quick."

"Why did you not tell me you had been wounded when you
took me away from the ball?" asked Janice, reproachfully.

"'T was not once in my thoughts that evening, nor was
anything else save you."

"I can make all sorts of preserves and jellies and pickles,
and next winter I'll send you some to camp."

"That you shall not," asserted the aide; "for the day we
go into winter quarters sees me back here to dance at your
wedding."

"Hadst better wait till thou art invited, sir?" suggested
Janice, saucily.

"What? A revolt on my hands already!" exclaimed the
officer.

"T is you are the rebel."

"Then you are my prisoner," retorted Jack, catching her in
his arms.

"You Whigs are a lawless lot!"

"Toward avowed Tories, ay--and a good serve-out to
them."

"But I gave my word to his Excellency that from henceforth
I'd be Whiggish, so you've no right to treat me as one."

"Then I'll not," agreed the lover. "And since I plundered
from you while you were against us, 't is only right that I should
return what I took." He kissed her thrice tenderly. "Good-by,
my sweet," he said, and, releasing her, mounted. "'T is
fortunate I depend not on my own legs, for they 'd never consent
to carry me away from you." He started his horse, but
turned in his saddle to call back: "'T will not be later than
the first of November, with or without permission," and throwing
a last kiss with his hand, spurred away.

Till Jack passed from view, the girl's eyes followed him
then, with a look of dreaminess in her eyes, she walked slowly
back to Greenwood, so abstracted by her thoughts that she
spoke not a word to the attendant hound.

Whatever might be the inclination of the girl, her mother
gave her little chance to dream in the next few days. Not
merely was there much about house and garden to be brought
into order, but Mrs. Meredith succeeded in bargaining their
standing crop of grass in exchange for a milch cow, and to
Janice was assigned both its milking and care, while the
chickens likewise became her particular charge. From stores
in the attic the mother produced pieces of whole cloth, and
Janice was set at work on dresses and underclothes to resupply
their depleted wardrobes. Not content with this, Mrs. Meredith
drew from the same source unspun wool and unhatchelled
flax, and the girl was put to spinning both into thread and yarn,
that Peg might weave them into cloth, against the need of winter.
From five in the morning till eight at night there was
occupation for all; and so tired was the maiden that she gladly
enough heard her mother's decree that their small supply of
candles should not be used, but that they should go to bed
with the sun.

They were thus already asleep by ten o'clock one August
evening, when there came a gentle knocking on the back door,
which, after several repetitions, ceased, but only to be resumed
a moment later on the front one. Neither summons receiving
any attention, a succession of pebbles were thrown against
Janice's window, finally bringing the sleeper back to wakefulness.
Her first feeling, as she became conscious of the cause,
was one of fear, and her instinct was to pay no attention to the
outsider. After one or two repetitions, however, of the disquieting
taps, she stole to the window, and, keeping herself hidden,
peeped out. All she could see was a man standing close
to a shrub, as if to take advantage of its concealment, who
occasionally raised an arm and tossed a pebble against the
panes. Really alarmed, the girl was on the point of seeking
her mother, when her eyes took in the fact that Clarion was
standing beside the cause of her fright, and seeking, so far as
he could, to win his attention. Reassured, the girl raised the
sash, and instantly her father's voice broke upon her ears.

"Down with ye, Jan," he said, "and let me get under
cover."

Both anxious and delighted, the girl ran downstairs and
unbarred the door.

"I had begun to fear me that I had been misinformed and
that ye and your mother were not hereabout," the squire began;
"so 't is indeed a joy to find ye safe." And then, after
Mrs. Meredith had been roused, he explained his presence.
"Though I could not get back to ye in Philadelphia, no worry
I felt on your account, making sure that Lord Clowes would
look to your safety. An anxious week I had after the army
reached New York, till I received Colonel Brereton's letter telling
me of your safety, though that only assured me as to the
past, and I knew that any moment the rascally Whigs might
take to persecuting ye again."

"Nay, Lambert," said Mrs. Meredith, "not a one has offered
us the slightest annoyance. On the contrary, some of
thy tenants have tendered us food in payment of rent, though I
own that they insist upon hard bargains."

"I would I had as little complaint to make," responded the
husband. "No sooner did Clinton reach New York than my
appointment was taken from me, and but for Phil's kindness I
should like to have starved. Though with little money himself,
the boy would let me want for nothing, and but for him I
should not even have been able to be here to-night"

"How was that, dadda?" asked Janice.

"'T is not to be whispered outside, Jan, but some of these
same rebel Jerseymen--ay, and the Connecticut Yankees--
much prefer the ring of British guineas to the brustle of the worthless
paper money of the Whigs, so almost nightly boat-loads of
provisions and forage steal out of the Raritan for New York,
but for which the British army would be on short commons.
Phil, who knew of this traffic, secured me passage on one of
the empty boats."

"Then the villagers know thou hast returned?" exclaimed
Mrs. Meredith, anxiously.

"Not they, for those in the business are as little anxious to
have it known they have been in New York as I am to have it
advertised that I am here at Greenwood, and there is little
danger that either of us will blab."

"Had Lord Clowes arrived in New York, Lambert?" inquired
Mrs. Meredith.

"That he had, and in a mighty dudgeon he was at first
against all of us: with ye for what he took offence at in Philadelphia,
and with me because I hold to my promise to Phil.
But when he had word that I was coming here, he sought me
out in a great turn-over, and said if I brought ye back to New
York his house should be at our service, and that we should
want for nothing. There is no doubt, lass, that he loves ye
prodigious."

The girl shivered, August night though it was, but merely
exclaimed, "You 'd not think of making us go to New York
when we are under no necessity?"

"Not I, now that I know ye to be well off, which I feared ye
were not. The nut to crack is to know whether I hadst best
find safety by returning to New York, to live like a pauper on
Phil, or seek to lie hid here for a three-months."

"And why three months, Lambert?" asked his wife.

"'T is thought that will serve to bring about a peace. Have
ye not heard how this much-vaunted alliance with France has
resulted? The French fleet and soldiers, united to a force
under Sullivan, attempted to capture the British post at Newport,
but oil and vinegar would not mix. The Parley-voos
wanted to monopolise all the honour by having the Americans
play second fiddle to them, but to this they 'd not consent; and
while the two were quarrelling over it, like dogs over a bone, in
steps the British, drubs the two of them, and carries off the
prize. That gone, they've set to quarrelling as to whose fault
it was. The feeling now is as bitter against the French as
't was against the British, and 't is thought that with this end to
their hopes from the frog-eaters, they'll be glad enough to
make a peace with us, the more that their paper money, the
only thing that has kept them going this long, loses value daily,
and they will soon have nothing with which to pay bills and
soldiers."

"Thou hadst best stay here, Lambert," advised Mrs. Meredith.
"'T will be more comfortable for thee, and far happier
for us."

"Remember that I run the risk of capture, wife."

"Thou canst be kept concealed from all but Peg and Sukey,
who are as faithful as we."

"And I am sure if by chance you were discovered," suggested
Janice, haltingly, "that Colonel Brereton would--would
--save you from ill treatment."

"Colonel Brereton?"

"Ay, Lambert," spoke up Mrs. Meredith, as her daughter
looked appealingly to her. "There is something yet to be
told, which has won us a strong friend who would never permit
thee to suffer. Colonel Brereton, to whom we owe all our
present safety, has declared his attachment to Janice, and
seeks her--"

"Small doubt he has," derisively interjected the squire. "I
make certain that every rebel, seeing the game drawing to a
close, is seeking to feather his nest."

"Nay, Lambert. 'T is obvious he truly loves our--"

"He may, but it shall not help him to her or her acres,"
again interrupted the father. "The impudence of these Whigs
passes belief. I hope ye sent him off with a bee in his breeches,
Matilda."

"That we did not," denied Mrs. Meredith. "Nor wouldst
thou, hadst thee been with us to realise all his goodness to us."

"Well, well," grumbled the father, resignedly, "I suppose
if the times are such that we must accept favours of the rebels,
we must not resent their insults. But 't is bitter to think of our
good land come to such a pass that rogues like this Brereton
and Bagby should dare obtrude their suits upon us."

"Oh, dadda," protested Janice, pleadingly, "'t was truly no
insult he intended, but the--the highest--he spoke as if--as
if--There was a tender respect in his every word and action,
as if I might have been a queen. And I could not--Oh,
mommy, please, please, tell it for me!"

"'T is best thou shouldst know at once, Lambert, that Janice
favours his wooing."

"What!" roared the squire, looking incredulously from
mother to daughter, and then, as the latter nodded her head,
he cried, "I'll not believe it of ye, Jan, however ye may wag
your pate. Wed a bondman! Have ye forgot your old pledge
to me? Where 's your pride, child, that ye should even let
the thought occur to ye?"

"But he is well born, dadda, far better than we ourselves,
for he told me once that his great-grandfather was King of
England," cried the girl, desperately.

"And ye believed the tale?"

"He would not lie to me, dadda, I am sure."

"Why think ye that?"

"Oh--he never--loving me, he never--can't you understand?
He 'd not deceive me, dadda."

"Ye 're the very one he would, ye mean, and small wonder
he takes advantage of ye if ye talk as foolishly to him as to me.
Have done with all thought of the fellow and of his clankers
concerning his birth. Whate'er he was, he is to-day a run-away
bondservant and--"

"But, dadda, he is now a lieutenant-colonel and--"

"Of what? Where 's the honour in being in command of the
riff-raff of the land? Dost not know that the most of their
officers are made out of tapsters and tinkers and the like? Does
it make a tavern idler or a bankrupt the less of either, that a
pack of dunghills choose to dub him by another title? Once
peace and law are come again, this same scalawag Brereton, or
Fownes, or whatever he will then be, must return to my service
and fulfil his bond, with a penalty of double time to boot.
Proud ye'd be to see your spouse ordered to field or stable
work every morning by my overseer!"

"'T would grieve me, dadda," replied the girl, gently, "because
I know how proud he is, and how it would make him
suffer; but 't would not lessen my respect or--or affection for
him."

"What?" snorted Mr. Meredith once more. "Dost mean to
tell me that thy heart is in this?"

"I--indeed, dadda," stammered Janice, colouring, "until--
until this moment I thought 't was only for yours and mommy's
sakes--though at times puzzled by--by I know not what
--but now--"

"Well, out with it!" ordered the squire, as his daughter
hesitated.