Books: Janice Meredith

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"In this report, sir, you speak of having taken Lieutenant
Colonel Hennion a prisoner of war. Under the circumstances
in which he was captured 't is a strange definition to
give to his footing."

Jack's bronzed face reddened slightly. "I so stated it,
your Excellency, because I overheard the colonel tell his
father that he had but stolen within our lines to do Mr.
Meredith a service, and having myself read the letter that
induced him to take the risk, I had every reason to believe
that he spoke nothing but the truth. Yet I knew that no
court-martial would take such a view, and so gave him that
quality in my report, to save him from a fate he does not
merit."

"Once, sir, you were guilty of a deceit," said Washington,
sternly, "and the present conditions are enough similar to
make me suspicious. Are you certain that the fact that Miss
Meredith's happiness is concerned in this officer's fate, has had
nothing to do with the quality you have given to his status?"

Despite the tan, General Brereton's cheeks paled. "My
God, your Excellency!" he burst out. "It has been one long
struggle from the moment I found him my prisoner, until my
report was safe in your hands not to--not to send him to the
gallows, as I could by mere silence so easily have done. That
I reported so promptly was due to the fact that I dared not
delay, lest the temptation should become too strong."

Washington's eye had never left Brereton during his outbreak,
and at the end he said: "You will remain at headquarters,
and report to me again, sir, in half an hour, after I
have duly considered the facts."

Making no reply, Jack saluted, and passed out of the room.
As he reached the doorway, Janice, who had risen, said:

"I pray you, General Brereton, to forgive me the grave
wrong I have just done you in both thought and speech."

Silently Jack bowed, and closed the door.

"I should think thee 'd be well ashamed of thyself; miss,"
declared Mrs. Washington, fretfully.

"I am, Lady Washington," replied the girl, humbly, "but
believe me, that wrong as I was in this instance, I am not so
wholly to blame as I seem, for one example of General
Brereton's temper which he gave me, proves that he can carry
his resentment to all lengths, and

"And is it because the man has a temper that you have
slighted his suit?" interrupted the matron, peevishly. "Child,
child, don't you know that every man that is worth his salt
has a warm constitution? Why, the tales and warnings that
were brought to me of the general's choleric nature when he
was wooing me were enough to fright any woman. And true
they were, for once roused, his wrath is terrible. Yet to me
he has ever been the kindest and most amiable of husbands."

Washington smiled, as he said, "Miss Janice will know who
deserves the credit for that. But my wife is right. A man
is not apt to vent his wrath on the woman he loves, unless
she gives him extreme cause."

"Bitter cause we gave to General Brereton, I own, but--
but I can never think that had he truly loved me he would
have refused his aid in our extremity."

"Refused thee aid!" snapped Jack's partisan. "Has he
done anything but help thee in every way he could? Who
was it brought thy poor mother off that dreadful ship? Who
was it has teased General Lafayette with such unending favours
for thee, that the marquis asked me what was the source of
General Brereton's interest in one Mr. Meredith? Who
only last week wrote me a letter that would have melted a
stone--anything, I believe, but thy heart--begging me to
offer thee a home, that thou might'st escape the tavern discomfort
and crowd? I declare, thy ingratitude nigh makes
me regret my having wasted any liking upon thee."

"Oh, Lady Washington," cried Janice, "not a one of these
did I know of; and if you but knew what gladness it brings me
to learn that, once he knew we had insulted him unwittingly,
he forgave us, and put his resentment away."

"Then you'll reward him as he deserves?" delightedly exclaimed
the match-maker.

"I am promised, Lady Washington," replied the girl,
gravely, "and were I not, I could never forget his once
cruelty

"What did he?"

"I cannot bear to tell, now he has, by his kindness, endeavoured
to atone for it."

"I make no doubt 't is more of his masked generosity.
Never will I believe that loving you as I know he does, he
could be hard-hearted or cruel to you."

"'T was not--'t was worse than if his anger had fallen on
me, Lady Washington. He refused to aid my father, and
but for his Excellency's untellable generosity and--"

Washington, who had been rereading the report, looked up,
and interrupted: "Did General Brereton tell you that it
was my act, Miss Janice?"

"No, your Excellency, 't was from Governor Livingston
that we learned of the debt we owed to you, for which no
thanks can ever--"

Once again Washington interrupted. "There are no thanks
due to me, Miss Janice," he said, "for, much as I may have
wished to service you, my public duties made it unwise.
Your gratitude is wholly due to Brereton."

"I do not understand--What do you mean?" exclaimed
the girl. "He--'t was your letter, so the governor said--"

"'T was my letter, but his act," replied Washington; and
in a few words explained. "General Brereton expected, and
should have been court-martialled and shot for what he did,"
he ended; "but he had served me faithfully, and so I refrained
from making his misconduct public, and punished him
no further than by demanding his resignation from my staff.
You lost me a good friend and servant, Miss Janice, but now,
with the war in effect ended, I scarce feel regret that his action,
however blamable, spared you the loss of your father."

"Now, what do you say, miss?" inquired Mrs. Washington,
triumphantly.

All the reply Janice made was to let her head fall forward
on the table, as she burst into tears.

"There, there, my child!" cried the matron, putting her
arms about and raising the girl, so that the down bent head
might find a resting-place on her bosom. "I did not mean
to pain thee."

"Oh, Lady Washington," sobbed Janice, as she threw her
arms about the dame's neck, "I--I am so miserable, an--
an--and so happy!"

Ten minutes later, Janice, with pale cheeks, but determined
air, sought her father in the parlour, and going on her knees
at his feet, said,--

"I have that to tell, dadda, which I fear will anger and pain
you greatly." Then in a few words she repeated to him what
Washington had told her.

"And why should that hurt me, lass? I own I treated the
general somewhat scurvily, and that he has repaid it in different
kind, but 't will be no grief to apologise and thank him
for what he did."

"'T was not that of which I am apprehensive, but when I
wrote to General Brereton, and besought his aid, I promised
that I would wed him if he would but save you, and--and,
oh, dadda, please be not angry with me, but I--I feel I must
fulfil my pledge, if he asks it of me."

"And how of your promise--and mine--to Phil?"

"I came to you, ere seeking to see him, to explain--"

The squire shook his head doubtingly. "I can't lay blame
on ye, Jan, since I owe my very life to what ye did. Yet 't is
bitter to me to break faith with Philemon."

"I feel as guilty, dadda, but I think he will be generous,
and give us back our promise, when I tell him all the facts."

"And 't is nigh as hard," went on the father, "to think of
letting ye wed General Brereton, though I do owe my life to
him."

"Ah, dadda, you will not punish him for the wrong his
parents did him?"

"'T is not that, Jan, but because he is a rebel to--"

The girl gave a little laugh, as if a weight were taken from
her thoughts, and she flung her arms about her father's neck
and kissed him. "Why, dadda," she cried, with the old
roguishness, "how can he be a rebel, now that they've
won?"

The squire pulled a wry look. "Little I dreamed I'd
ever break faith, or make friends of the enemies of my king,
but the times are disloyal, and I suppose one must go with
them. If ye can persuade Phil to release us, Jan, have your
way."

Again his daughter kissed him, but this time tenderly, with
all the archness gone. "Thank you, dadda, for yielding," she
said, "for 't would have been horrible to me had you not."

The squire kissed her in return. "Better one rebel in the
family than two," he responded with a laugh, which suggested
that whatever his compunctions, he knew at heart that the
outcome was for the best, and was already reconciled to it.
"Thou 'rt too good a lass, Jan, to make into more of a rebel
than this same Brereton will no doubt make thee."

"He'll make no rebel of me to my darling dadda, that I
promise," asserted Janice, joyfully.

Mr. Meredith laughed still more heartily. "I'll rest content
if ye don't declare independence of your old dad, and
allegiance to him, within one month of marriage, Jan."

As he ended, came a knock on the door and an officer
entered. "His Excellency directs me to say, Miss Meredith,"
he announced, "that the provost-marshal has orders to bring
Colonel Hennion to you, whenever you are ready to see him."

"I'll see him now," replied the girl.

"Poor lad!" lamented the squire.

"Oh, dadda, what can I say to him?" grieved Janice.

"I know not, lass," replied the father, as he hastened to
leave the room.

It was a hard interview the girl had with Colonel Hennion,
but she went through with it bravely, telling all the circumstances.
"'T is not merely that I owe him the fulfilment of
the promise I made him before that to you was given, Phil,"
Janice ended, "but though I thought my love for him was
dead, the moment I heard of how he had risked life and
station to spare me grief; I--I--" There she ceased
speaking, but her eyes and cheeks told eloquently what her
tongue refused to put in words.

Philemon, with a sad face, took her hand. "I'll not make
it the harder for you by protests or appeals, Janice," he said,
"for, however it may pain me, I wish to spare you."

"Oh, don't, please," she sobbed. "If you--if you would
only blame me."

"I can't do that," he replied simply. "And--and 't is as
well, perhaps. General Washington just sent me word that I
am only to be treated as a prisoner of war, but even when I
am exchanged I must henceforth be an exile, with only my
sword to depend upon; so it would have been no life for
you."

"Oh, Phil, you'll take back Greenwood and Boxely,
won't--"

"Only to have them taken by the state? Keep them, as I
would have you, Janice, and if ever I am invalided, and the
laws will let me, I'll come back and ask you for Boxely, provided
I can bear the thought of--of--of a life of rust. Till
then God prosper you and good-by."

For some time after Philemon left the room the girl wept,
but by degrees the sobs ended, and she became calmer. Yet,
as the tears ceased, some other emotion replaced them, for
thrice, as she sat musing, her cheeks flushed without apparent
reason, several times her brows wrinkled, as if some question
were puzzling her; and once she started forward impulsively,
some action determined, only to sink back, as if lacking
courage. Suddenly she sprang to her feet, and, apparently
afraid to give herself time for consideration, she ran, rather
than walked, into the garden. Here she picked a single
blossom from a rose bush, and such sprays of honeysuckle as
she could find, and made them into a bunch. Kissing the
flowers as if they were the dearest thing in the world, she
hurried out of the garden, and glanced about. Seeing a
soldier on the road, she hailed him and asked him whither he
was going.

"Nowhere in pertickerler, miss."

"Dost know where General Brereton is to be found?" she
asked boldly, though blushing none the less for some reason.

"I just seen him down ter Colonel Dayton's quarters."

"Wilt favour me by taking him these flowers?" Janice
requested, holding them out with one hand, while her other
tendered a Spanish milled dollar, her eyes dropped groundward,
as if to hide something.

"Calkerlate I might; and who'll I say sent 'em?"

"I--say nothing at all--but just give him the bunch."

"Don't hardly worth seem carryin'," said the soldier,
glancing at the flowers with open contempt, "an' sartin it
ain't worth no sich money ter take 'em." Lest she would
agree with him, however, he set off with celerity. "Like as
not he'll give me a reprimand fer troublin' him with a gal's
nonsense," he soliliquised, as he walked. "Swan ef I ain't
most tempted ter throw 'em in the ditch."

Fortunately he did not commit the breach of faith, though
there were distinct qualities of shame and apology in his voice
and manner, when he walked up to a group of officers sitting
under a tree, and said to one of them,--

"A gal gave me this, general, ter take ter you, an' she
would hev it, though I told her she'd no business ter be
botherin' yer with sich plumb foolishness."

The flowers were snatched rather than taken from his
hand. "Where was she when she gave them to you?"
demanded Brereton.

"I seen her go back inter the garding over ter Headquarters
House, sir."

The general, without a word of explanation or apology to
his fellow officers, started away almost at a run. Halting suddenly
after he had gone some fifty feet, he fumbled in his
pocket, and pulling out three or four coins, he tossed back a
gold piece to the man; then hastened away.

"Waal!" ejaculated the soldier, as he stooped and picked
it up. "A hard dollar from a gal was bad enough, but I
did n't expect ter see the general go clean crazy like that. A
louis, as I'm a livin' sinner!

When Jack entered the hedge, one glance he took, and then
strode to the garden seat. "I know you would not torture
me with false hopes, yet I--I dare not believe the message I
would give the world to read in these," he said hoarsely.

The girl put her hand gently on his arm. "They say,
Jack," she replied, her eyes upturned to his, "whatever you
would wish they might."

On the words, her lover's arms were about her.

"Then they say that I am forgiven and--"

"Oh, Jack," cried Janice despairingly, "can you ever forgive
me--"Can I ever atone--ever thank you for all--"

"Hush, my sweet. Put the past, as I will, out of mind
for ever."

"I will, I will--but, oh, Jack, I must tell you how I have
suffered--how my heart nearly broke--so that you may know
how happy I am!"

"Oh, sweetheart," cried Brereton, clasping her tightly.
"Do you mean--can the flowers truly say that you really
love me?"

"They can, but never how much."

"Then tell me yourself."

"No words can."

"Ah, sweetheart, try," besought Brereton.

"Then stoop and let me whisper it," said the girl, and
obediently Jack bent his head. But what she had to tell was
told by her lips upon his.

It was Billy Lee who finally interrupted them. "You'll
'scuse me, Gen'l an' Missy Janice," he called, apologetically,
from the opening in the hedge, "but Lady Washington dun
send me to 'splain dat if she delay de dinner any mo' dat Gen'l
Brereton suttinly be late at de cote-martial." And as a
second couple made a hurried if reluctant exodus from
paradise, he continued, "I dun tender youse my bestest
felicitations, sah. Golly! Won't Missis Sukey and dat Blueskin
dun be pleased."

"She will be when she and Peg are bought and safe back
at Greenwood, Billy, as they soon will be," predicted
Brereton.

In the dining room stood the commander-in-chief and
Mrs. Washington, and as Jack and Janice entered it through
one of the windows, the latter caught the girl in her arms,
and kissed her warmly.

"Oh, Lady Washington," cried the maiden, ecstatically,
"how can I ever thank you!"

"That is my duty, Janice, not yours," asserted Brereton,
taking the matron's hand and kissing it.

Janice, her eyes starry with happiness, crossed to General
Washington. "Oh, your Excellency," she begged, her hand
on his arm, "there is but one flaw in my gladness, and 't is
that for my sake he lost your trust and affection. Will you--
oh, won't you forgive him, as he has me, and let my joy be
perfect?"

Washington smiled indulgently into the winsome face, and
turning to Brereton, held out his hand. "You have secured
an able pleader," he said, "and I cannot find it in my heart
to give her nay at any such time. Indeed," he added, as
Jack eagerly took the proffered peace-offering, "'t is to be
feared, my boy, that had she but made her prayer to me
instead of you, I should have found it difficult not to be
equally faithless to my duty."

Janice stooped and kissed the two hands as they clasped
each other, then, as her father entered the room, she sped to
him, and throwing her arms about his neck, kissed him
as well.

"Mr. Meredith," said Jack, tendering his hand a little
doubtfully, "a bondservant of yours ran off while yet there
was four years of service due to you. He is ready now to
fulfil the bond, nor will he complain if you enforce the legal
penalty of double time."

"'T is lucky for me, general," answered the squire, heartily,
"that ye acknowledge my claim, for I take it that, my lass
having sworn a new allegiance, I shall need a hold on you, if
I am to retain any lien on her."

"Nay, Mr. Meredith," said Washington, "you need not
fear that the new tie will efface the old one. We have ended
the mother country's rule of us, but 't is probable her children
will never cease to feel affection for the one who gave
them being; and so you will find it with Miss Janice."

THE END