Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 39, Number 88, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 9 July 1907 — THE SPPY [ARTICLE]

THE SPPY

BY J. FENIMORE COOPER

A STOUT OF THE REVOLUTION

CHAPTER XlX.—(Continued.) '‘Lire, Isabella, my sister, my only ■later 1” cried the youth, with a burst sorrow that he ccgs(| not control; “my lathsr! my poor factor ” “There is the sting of death: but he la a soldier and a Christian. Miss Wharton, I would speak of what interests you while yet I have strength for the task. The world is still before you, and why should I disturb the little happiness it iaay afford ! Dream oh, lovely innocent, and may God keep the evil day of knowledge far distant!” “Oh, there ia even now little left for me to enjoy," said Frances, burying her face; “I am heart-stricken in all that I most loved.” “No!" interrupted Isabella; “you have •M inducement to wiah for. life, that pleads strongly in a woman's breast. It ta a delusion that nothing but death can destroy. Miss Wharton, if there breathes n spirit congenial to Dunwoodie's, and worthy of his love, it ls your own." A flush of fire passed over the face of the listener, and she raised her eyes, flashing with an ungovernable look of delight, to the countenance of Isabella, who watched her emotion with a look that partook both of pity and admiration. "Such have been the feelings that 4 have escaped,” she continued; “yes, Miss Wharton, Dunwoodie is wholly yours.” “Be just to yourself, my sister," exclaimed the youth; “let no romantic generosity cause you to forget your own eharactcr.” “In justice to Dunwoodie I must ■peak; and for the same reason, my brother, you must listen. By na act or word has Dunwoodie ever induced me to believe he wished me more than a friend; aay, latterly, I hare had the burning shame of thinking that he avoided my presence.” “Would he dare?” said Singleton, fiercely- . “Peace, my brother, and listen,” continued Isabella, rousing herself with an effort that was final : “here is the innocent. Justifiable cause. But one word more—for I feel that blood, which ever flowetj too swiftly, rushing where nature ■ever intended it to go.- Woman must be sought to be prised; her life is one es concealed emotions; blessed are they whose early impressions make the task free from hypocrisy, for such only can be happy wilh men like —like Dunwoodie." Her voice failed, and she sank back on ker pillow in silence, and, with a slight convulsion, expired. The sun broke forth, on the morning that succeeded this night of desolation. In unclouded luster, and seemed to mock the petty sorrows of those who received his rays. A retired and lovely spot was selected •car the foot of adjacent rocks, and such tude preparations were made as the time and the situation of the country permittod for the burial of Miss Singleton. A lew of the neighboring inhabitants collected. from curiosity and interest, and Miss Peytou and Fiances wept in sincerity over her grave. The solemn offices •f the church were performed by the minister who had so lately stood forth to •fficiate in another and very different duty; and Lawton bent bis head, and passed his hand across his brow, while the words that accompanied the first clod were uttered.

CHAPTER XX. The friends of Henry Wharton had placed so much reliance on his innocence, that they were unable to see the full danger of his situation. As the moment of •rial, however, approached, the uneasiness •f the youth increased. The rank of Andre, and the importance of the measure* he was jdotting. together wi)h the powerful intercessions that had beet) made In his behalf, occasioned his execution to be stamped with greater notoriety than •he ordinary events of the war. But spies were frequently arrested; and the inatances that occurred of summary punishment for this crime were numerous. These were facts that were well known to both Dunwoodie and the prisoner and to their experienced judgments the preps arations for the trial were alarming. The moment at length arrived, and the different actors in the aproaching investigation assembled. Frances experienced a feeling like suffocation, after taking her seat in the midst of her family. The Judges, three in number, sat by themselves. clad in the vestments of their profession. and maintained a gravity worthy of the occasion. In the center was a man of advanced years, whose whole pxrerior bore the stamp of early and long tried military habits. This was the president of the court. Before these arbiters of his fate Henry Wharton was ushered, under the custody •f armed men. Two of the judges sat in grave reserve, fixing their inquiring eyes •n the object of their investigation; but the president continued gazing around with uneasy, convulsive motions of the muscles of the face, that indicated a restlessness foreign to his year* of duty. It was Colonl Singleton, who. but the day before, had learned the fate of Isabella. “Bring forth the prisoner," he said, with a wave of the hand. The sentinels draped the points of their bayonets, and Henry Wharton advanced. Fiances turned for a moment in grateful •motion, as tb« v deep and perturbed breathing of Dunwoodie reached her ears; but her brother again concentrated all her interest in one feeling of Intense care. “You are said,” continued the presi *»t, “to'be Henry Wlmrton. a captain is his Britannic Majesty's OOth Regiment ml Foot.” *U would be prudent." said one of his •ampauiona. “to advise the prisoner that be is bound to answer no more than he 4w*ts necessary." A nod of «probat ion from the silent members was bestowed on this remark, and the president proceeded with cau“lt is an accusation against you that. Mag an officer of the enemy, you passed jim pickets of the Amor tea n army at the.

White Plains, in disguise,-on the 29th of ’"October last.” “I retract nothing that is true,” said Henry, proudly, “lour sentiment is noble, sir. I only regret that a youthful soldier should so far be misled by loyalty as to lend himself to the purposes of deceit.” “Deceit!” echoed Wharton; ‘*l thought it prudent to guard against capture by my enemies." “A soldier. Captain Wharton, should never meet his enemy but openly, and with arms in his hands. I have served twd kings of‘England, as I now serve my native land; but never did I approach a foe unless under the light of the sun, and with honest notice that an enemy was nigh."

“I am the son of this aged mnn before you,” continued Henry. "It was to visit him that I encountered the danger. Besides, the country below is seldom held by your troops, and its very name implies a right to either party tomiove at pleasure ‘over its territory." “Its name, as a neutral ground, is unauthorized by law; it is an appellation that originates with the condition of the country. But wherever an army goes, it carries its lights along.” “I am no casuist, Sir,” returned the youth; “but I—feel that my father is entitled to my affection, and I would encounter greater risks to prove it to ”BTin in his old age.” “A vary commendable spirit." cried the veteran. “Come, gentlemen, this business brightens; I confess at first it was very bad; but no man can censure him for desiring to see his parents. Let the older Mr. Wharton approach and take the oath.”

The father made an effort at composure, and, advancing with a feeble stop, lie complied with the necessary forms of the court. “You are (he father of the prisoner?” said Coolnel Singleton, in a subdued voice, after pausing a moment in respect for the agitation of the witness. “What do you know of his visit to your house on the 29th day of October last?” “He came, as he told you, to see me and his sisters.” "A boy of spirit,” whispered the president to his silent comrade. “I see -but little harm in such a freak; ’twas imprudent, but then it was kind. Do you know that your son was intrusted with no commission from Sir Henry Clinton, and that the visit to you not merely a cloak to other designs?” “How can I know it?” said Mr. Wharton, in alarm; “would Sir Henry intrust me with such a business?” “Know you anything of this pass?” exhibiting the paper that Dunwoodie had retained when Wharton was taken. “Nothing—upon my honor, nothing," cried the father, shrinking front the paper as from contagion. . - “Have you other testimony?—this does not avail you. Captain Wharton. You have been taken in a situation where your life is forfeited; the labor of proving your innocence rests with yourself. Take time to reflect, and be cool.” Dunwoodie was sworn, and desired to relate what lie knew. Ilia statement did not materially alter the case. To him personally but little was known, and that little rather militated against the safety of Henry than otherwise. His account was listened to in silence, and the significant shake of the head that was made by the silent member spoke too plainly what effect it had produced.

“Still you think that the prisoner had no other object than what he has avowed?” said the president, when he had ended. ■‘None other, I will pledge my life,” cried the major, with fervor. “You say that he escaped, and was retaken in open arms?” “He was; nay, he received a wound in the combat. You see he yet moves his arm with difficulty. Would he. think you, sir. have trusted himself where he could fall again into our hands, uuless conscious of innocence?” “Would Andre have deserted a field of battle. Major Dunwoodie, had he encountered such an event, near Tarr.vtown ?” asked his deliberate examiner. “Is it not natural to youth to seek glory?” “Do you call this glory?” exclaimed the major: “an ignominious death, and a tarnished name.” “Major Dunwoodie.” returned the other ; “you have acted nobly: your duty has been arduous and severe, but it has been faithfully and honorably discharged: ours must not be less so. Let that black be brought forward.” t'cesar found himself confronted with a row of rebel officers, before he knew what was uppermost in his thoughts. The others yielded the examination to the one who suggested it, and using nil due deliberation, he proceeded accordingly. • “You know the prisoner?” “I think he ought,” returned the Mack. In a manner as sententious as that of his examiner. %, “Were you employed in carrying any letters or messages while Captain Wharton was in your master's house?" “I do what a tell me," returned the black. “Enough.” said Colonel Singleton, with dignity: “yon have the noble acknowledgment of a gentleman, what more can you obtain from this slave? Captain Wharton. you perceive the ynfortunate impression against yii. Have you other testimony to adduce?” Frances arose, and with a tottering moved toward the judges; the paleness of her cheek continued but for a moment, and gave place to a flush of fire, gnd with a light but firm tread, she stood before them. Raising her hand to her polished forehead. Frances threw aside her exuberant locks, and displayed a picture of beauty and innocence to their view that might have moved even sterner natures. The president shrouded bis eyes for a moment, as if the wild eye and speaking countenance recalled the image of another. Recovering himself, be said, with an earnestness that betrayed secret

“To yon, then, your brother previously l communicated his intention of paying yonr family ri secret visit?” ~ "No!—-hd!” said Frances ; "be" told me nothing;—we knew not of the visit until he arrived; but can it be necessary to explain to gnllaht men that a child wool# incur hazard to meet his only parent':'’ “But was this the first time? l)'nl he never talk of doing so before?” inquired the colonel, leaning toward her with paternal interest. “Certainly—certainly,” cried Frances, catching the expression of his own benevolentcountenance. “This is bat the fourth of his visits.” ‘ - “I knew it,” exclaimed the veteran, rubbing bis hands with delight: “an adventurous, warm-hearted son—l warrant me, gentlemen, a fiery soldier in the field !* In what disguise did he come?” “In none, for none were then accessary ; the royal troops covered the country. and gave him safe passage.” “And was this the first of his visits out ortho uniform of his regiment?” “Oh 1 the very first,” exclaimed the eager girl; “his first offense, I do assure you, if offense it be.” “But you wrote him—you urged the visit; surely, young lady, you wished to see your brother?” added the impatient colonel, “That we wished it and prayed for it —oh, how fervently we prayed for it! —is .true; but to have held communion with the royal army would have endangered our father, and we dared not.” “Did he leave the house until taken, or had he intercourse with any out »(• your own dwelling?” “With none —no one, excepting our neighbor, the peddler. Birch.” “With whom?” .exclaimed the colonel, turning pale and shrinking as from the sting of — Dunwoodie groaned aloud, and striking his head with his hand, cried, in piercing tones, “He is lost!” and rushed from the apartment. “But llarve.v Birch,” repeated Frances, gazing wildly at the door through which her lover had disappeared. “Harvey Birch!” echoed all the judges. The two immovable members of the court exchanged looks, and threw an inquisitive glance at tlioir prisoner. “To you, gentlemen, it can be no new intelligence to hear that Harvey Birch is suspected of favoring the royal cause,” -said Henry ; “for he has already been condemned -by your tribunals to the fate that I now see awaits myself. I will therefore explain that it was by his- assitance 1 procured.the-dfegtiise'and passed. your- pickets; but to my dying moment, and with my dying breath, I will avow that my intentions were as pure as the innocent being before you.” “Captain Wharton,” said the president, solemnly, “the enemies of American li'« erty have made mighty and subtle efforts to overthrow our power. A more dangerous man. for his means and education, is not ranked among our foes than this peddler of Westchester. He is a spy—artful, delusive and penetrating beyond the abilities of any of his class. He would have saved Andre. Indeed, young man,, this is a connection that may prove fatal to you.” The honest indignation that beamed on the countenance of the aged warrior, was met by a look of perfect conviction on the part of bis comrades. “I have ruined him!” cried Frances, - clasping her hands in terror; “do you desert ns? then he is lost, indeed.” “Forbear !—lovely innocent—forbear!” said the colonel, with strong emotion; “you injure none, but distress us all.” “Remand your prisoner,” said one of the judges to the officer who had the charge of Henry. “Colonel Singleton, shall we withdraw?” “Singleton! Singleton!” echoed Frances ; “then you are a father, and know how to pity a father’s woes; you cannot, will not, wound a heart that is now nearly crushed. Hear me, Colonel Singleton; as God will listen to your dying prayers, hear me, and spare my brother!” “Remove her,” said the colonel, gefttly. “Colonel Singleton! how lately was yonr own son in suffering and in danger! under the roof of my father he was eherished —under my father's roof lie found shelter and protection. Oh! suppose that son. the pride of your age, the solace and protection of your infant children, and then pronounce my brother guilty, If you dare !” “What right has Heath to make an executioner of me!” exclaimed the veteran. fiercely, rising with a face flushed like fire. “But I forget myself; come, gentlemen, let tis mount; our painful duty must be done.” (To be continued.)