Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 39, Number 95, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 2 August 1907 — THE SPY [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

THE SPY

BY J. FENIMORE COOPER

A STORY OF THE REVOLUTION

CHAPTER XXV. To the eager inquires of Miss Peyton foist ire to her success in her romantic ■ECOTtrion Frances could say no more than ~~ ~thet~tthe teas boun<i4»4>c silent, and t«L recommend tb© same precaution to the food maiden also. There was a smile playing around the beautiful mouth of Frances, while she uttered this injunction. which satisfied her aunt that all was Jui it should Be. She was urging her Hite* to take some refreshment after her fatiguing expedition, when the noise of a horseman riding to the door announced the return of the major. Frances had not time to rally her thoughts Before Dunwoodie entered one door, as Miss Peyton, with the readiness •f female instinct, retired through another. The countenance of was flushed, and an air of vexation and disappointment pervaded his manner. “*TVa.s imprudent. Frances; nay, It was unkind,” he cried, throwing himself hi a chair, “to fly at the very moment that I had assured him of safety! I ran almost persuade myself that yon delight in creating points of difference in our feeland duties. There was no danger Impending. He had the promise of Harper, and it ia a word never to be doubtad. Oh ! Frances! Frances ! had you Known the man. you would never have itetrusted his assurance, nor would you have again reduced me to the distressing ~ alternative.”—i ■— “What alternative?” asked Frances, pitying his emotions deeply, but eagerly aalxing upon every circumstance to prolong the interview. “What alternative! Am I not compelled to spend this night in the saddle to recapture your brother? You make me team your enemy ; I. who would cheerfully shed the Inst drop of blood in your service. I repeat, Frances, it was rash: it was unkindT IT was a sad, sad mistake.” She bent toward him, and timidly took ane of liis hands, while with the other ■he gently removed the curls from hi* burning brow. “Why go at nil. dear Peyton?” she asked; “you have done much for your eountry. and she cannot exact such a sacrifice as this at your hands.” “Frances ! Miss Wharton !” exclaimed the youth, springing on his feet and pacing the floor with a cheek that burned and an e.v that sparkled with wounded intagrity; “it is not my country, but my honor, that requires the sacrifice. Has he not fled from a guard of my own •orps? But for this, I might have been •pared the Wow We shall see, before to-morrow's sun, who will presume to hint that the beauty of the sister furllsbed a mask io conceal the brother: Yes. yes; 1 should like, even now,” he continued, laughing bitterly, “to hear the villain who would dare to surmise that auch treachery existed!” “Peyton, dear Peyton,” said Frances, recoiling from his angry eye, “you curdle my blood—would you kill my brother?" “Would I uot die for him?” exclaimed Dunwoodie, ns he turned to her more mildly: “you know 1 would; but I am distracted with tin l cruel surmise to which this step of Henry's subjects me. What will Washington think of me, should he Warn that 1 ever became your husband?” “If that alone impels you to. act so harshly toward my brother,” returned Frances, with a slight tremor in her voice, “let it never happen for him to ham." ... “And this is consolation, Frances!” “Nay. dear Dunwoodie, I meant nothin* harsh or unkind: but you are not making us hotjj of more consequence with Washington than the truth will justify?” “1 trust that my name is not entirely unknown to the co-.nniander-in-ehief.” said the major, a little proudly. “France*, I leave you with a heavy heart; pity me, fcnt feel no concern for your brother; he most again become a prisoner, but every hair of his head is sacred." “Stop! Dunwoodie. I conjure you,” cried Frances, gasping for breath, as she ■otieed that the hand of the clock still wanted mnny minutes to the desired hour ; “before you go on your errand of fastidi- \ •ns duty, read this note that Henry has left for you. and which, doubtless, he thought he was writing to the friend of his youth.” “Where got you this note?” exclaimed the youth, glancing his eyes over its contents. “Poor Henry, you are indeed my friend! If anyone wishes me happiness. It is you! Read for yourself,” he added, holding the note toward her. ' Frances revived it in astonishment, and read the following: “Life is too precious to be trusted to uncertainties. 1 leave you, Peyton, unknown to all. but Ca-sar, and I reoomaaend him to your mercy. But there is a aare that weighs me to the earth. Ix>ok at my aged and infirm parent. He will he reproached for the supposed crime of kia son. Look at those helpless sisters that 1 leave behind me without a protector. Prove to me that you love us all. Let the clergyman whom you will bring tmh you unite you this night to Frances, '•fid become at once Brother,'son and husband.” The paper fell from the bands of Francaa, and abe endeavored to raise her eyes to the face of Dunwoodie, but they sank abashed to the floor. “Am I worthy of this confidence? Will you send me out this night, to meet your cwt brother? or will it be the officer of Congress in quest of the officer of Britain?” . 1 Frances grew giddy. She turned an anxious eye to the clock, and the hand aeeaaed to linger over ita face, as if with Y latent to torture her. '**Fpeak, Frances,” murmured Punwoo- — jkiags “jnay I summon my good kinswo-,-Hdn? Determine, for time presses.” I'- /Teytoo !' 1 cannot enter into such a \ sriiem engagement with a fraud upon my gpnanenee. • I have seen Henry sitfoe his •ncape, and time ia all-important to him. Here ia my hand; if, with the knowled"' •f the consequences of delay, you will not reject it, it is freely yours.” . “Reject it!” eried the delighted youth;

“I take it as the richest gift of heaven. There is time enough for us all. Two hours will take me through the hills; and By noon to-morrow I will return with Washington's pardon for your brother, and Henry will help to enliven our nuptials." _ “Then meet me here in ten minutes,” said Frances, greatly relieved hy the unburdening her mind, and filled with the hoftet of securing Henry’s safety, “and I will ret urn and -take t hose vows whichwill bind me to you forever." Miss Peyton received the avowal of her niece with infinite astonishment, and a little displeasure. It was violating all the order and decorum of a wedding to get it up so hastily, and with so little ceremony. But Frances, with modest firmness, declared that her resolution was "*taken, and the maid retu rneiLto the apartment, '■accompanied by her father anti aunt, at the expiration of the time that she had fixed. Dunwoodie and the clergyman were already there,' Franees, silentlly, placed in his hand the wedding ring of her own mothcr.and.after some little time spent in arranging Mr. Wharton and herself, Miss Peyton suffered the ceremony to proceed. Th o clock "stood directly before the eves ritFriinew and she turned many an anxious glance at the dial: hut flic solemn language of the priest soon caught her attention, and her mind became intent upon the vows she was uttering. The ceremony nrqa quickly over, and ns the olergvmnrj clo.sed thc~ >y.ojrds cif benedir'tion7 theclock told the hour of nine. This was the time that Harper had deemed so important, and Frances felt ns if a mighty .load was at once removed from her heart. Dunwoodie folded her in his arms,- saluted the mild aunt again and again, and shook Mr. Wharton and the divine repeatedly by the hand. In the midst of the felicitation, a tap was heard at the door. It was opened, and Mason appeared. “We are in the saddle,” said the lieuten a nt, ''and. with your permission, I will lead on; as you are so well mounted, you can overtake us at your leisure,” “Yes, yes, my good fellow; march.” cried Dunwoodie, gladly seizing an excuse to linger; "I will reach you at the first halt." The noise of a horseman was heard approaching the house, and nn officer was sbowp the room, The gentleman wore the dress of an aide-de-camp, and the major at once knew him to be oue of the military family of Washington. “Major Dunwoodie,” he said, after bowing to thh ladies, “the commnnder-in-cliief has directed me to give you these orders.” ll«. <vn«,wta<i Um muKien. aiul, pleading duty, took his leave immediately. “Here, indeed.” cried the major, “is an unexpected turn in the whole affair; but I understand it; Harper has got my letter. Listen.” “Sir —Upon the recipt of this, you will concentrate your squadron, so ns to be in front ,of a covering party which the enemy has sent up in front of his forager, by ten o’clock to-morrow, on the heights of Croton, where you witl find a body of foot to support you. The scape of the English spy has heeiL reported to me, but his arrest is unimportant, compared with the duty 1 now assign you. Y’ou will, therefor, recall your men, if any are in pursuit, nnd endeavor to defeat the enemy forthwith. . “Your obedient servant.' “GEORGE WASITTXGTOX.” “Thank God!" cried Dunwoodie, “my hand* are washed of Henry's recapture; I can now move to iuy duty with honor.” —CHATTER SLX.YJ, . ...... The edminencetnilT of the foliowing year was passed, on the part of the Americans, in making great preparations to bring the war to a close. New York was .the point that was threatened hy the allied armies; and Washington, by exciting a constant apprehension for the safety of that city, preventing such re enforcements from being sent to Cornwallis as would have enabled him to improve his success. At length, as autumn approached, ev'ery indication, was given that the final movement had arrived. The French forces drew near to the royal Hues, passing through the Neutral Ground, and threatened an attack in the direction of Kingsbridge, while large bodies of Americans were acting in concert. By hovering around the British posts and drawing nigh in the Jerseys, they seemed to threaten the royal forces from that quartet also. Sir Henry Clinton rested securely within Ilia lines and cautiously disregarded the solicitations of Cornwallis for succor. It was at the close of a stormy day in the month of September that a large assemblage of officers was collected near the doqr of a building that was situated in the heart of the American troops, who held the Jerseys. To one in particular was paid a deference nnd obedience that announced him to be of the highest grade. Many a hat was lifted as its owner addressed this officer; and when he spoke, a profound attention was exhibited on every countenance. At length the general raised his own hat. nnd bowed gravely to niLarqund him. Dismounting, he stepped back a few paces, aud for a moment viewed the condition of his horse with the eye of one who well understood the animal. and then, easting a brief but expressive glance at his aide, he retired into the building, followed by tine -entlenmOn entering nn apartment that was apparently fitted for his rocefctiotT. he took a seat and continued for a Tpng time in a thoughtful attitude, like due in the habit of communing much with himself. At length the general raised his eyes, and spoke. . * T~ •THn W I wished to see arrived, sir?” "He awaits th* pleasure of your excel lepey.” e “I will ruceive him here, and alone, if. you please." The aide bowed'and withdrew. In a few minutes the door again opened, and a figure, gliding inte the apartment, stood

modestly at a distance front the general ! ITU >ntrance was unheard by the office* who sat gazing at the fire, still absorbed in bia own meditations. Several passed, w hen he spoke Jo himself in as undertone: . “To-morrow wo must raise the curtail ] “and"ex pose our plans. May heaven pros* ] per them !” A slight movement made by the stranger caugbt his car, and he saw that h« was not alone.. He pointed silently to th* fire, toward wbieh- the figure -advanced. A second mild nnd courteous gesture motioned to a vacant chair, but the stranger refused it with a modest acknowledgment. At length the officer arose, and opening a desk, took from it a small but apparently heavy bag. "Harvey Itirch,” he said, turning to -the •stranger, "th- time has arrived when our., connection must cease; henceforth and forever we must be strangers.” The peddier dropped the folds of th* great coat that concealed his features, and gazed for a moment earnestly at the face of the speaker; then dropping his head upon Ills bosom, In; said, ha-ekty : “If it be your excellency’s pleasure,” "It is now my duty to pay you for these Services; hitherto you have postponed- -receiving your, reward, aud the debt has become a heavy one. Here are a hundred doubloons; you will remember the poverty of our country and attribute to it the smallness of your pay.” The peddler, raised his eyes to the countenance of the speaker; but, as the other held forth the, money, lie moved hack, as if? refusing the bag. "Does your excellency think that I have exposed mv life and blasted my character Tor money?" ; "If not for money, what then?” “What has brought your excellency into the field? For what do you daily and hourly expose your precious life to Battle" nnd the Ivnlter? Whnt- is thorn qKnni mn' to mourn, when such men as you risk their all for our country? No —no-no— not a dollar of your gold will I touch; poor America has need of it all 1” The hag dropped front the hand of tho officer, and fell at the feet of the peddler, where it lay neglected. The officer looked steadily’ at the face of his companion, and continued : “There are many motives which might govern me, that to you are unknown. Oiir situations are different; I am known as the leader of armies, but you must descend into the grave witl} the reputation of a foe to your native land. Remember that the veil which conceals your true character cannot he raised in venrs--per-baps never. Take enough to secure a support to your age. Remember your risks and cares. I have told you that the characters of men who are much esteemed in life depend on your secrecy; what pledge can I give them of your fidelity?” ”Tell them.Msaid Birch, advancin'-’- mid unconsciously resting one foot on the hug. "tell them that I would uot take the gold !” (To be continued.)