DArcy of the 
 
 Guards or the 
 
 Fortunes of 
 
 Evan Shipman 
 
 1
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 Univi*y < 
 
 IRVINE
 
 - CLARKE

 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 OR 
 
 The FORTUNES of WAR
 
 D'ARCY"/ the GUARDS 
 
 _ ., 
 
 OR 
 
 The FORTUNES of WAR 
 
 BY 
 
 LOUIS EVAN SHIPMAN 
 
 HERBERT S. STONE and Company 
 
 CHICAGO and NEW YORK 
 
 MDCCCXCIX
 
 COPYRIGHT 1899, BY 
 HERBERT S. STONE & CO 
 
 ALL RIGHTS OF DRAMATIZATION 
 ARE RESERVED
 
 TO 
 
 NICHOLAS BIDDLE 
 
 My dear Nic: You and I have shared 
 in common, so wide and various an 
 acquaintance, and have allowed our 
 disfancies and admirations to go so often 
 hand in hand, that I feel some hesitancy 
 in commending Major John Gerald 
 D'Arcy D' Arcy of the Guards to your 
 special consideration. You will not find 
 him worthy of the little company which 
 includes our old intimates, the Marquis 
 of Esmond, James Durie, David Bal- 
 four, Richard Feverel, Richmond Roy 
 and Christopher Newman, but the fault 
 of that belongs to me. And if he does 
 take some small place in your affection, 
 I am content enough to think that it 
 will not be for his sake, but for mine. 
 Your friend, 
 
 New York Louis EVAN SHIPMAN 
 
 February, 1899
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PACK 
 
 I. THE INN ON THE HEATH . . 1 
 
 II. MAJOR D'ARCY OF THE GUARDS 13 
 
 III. Two IN A COACH ... 2? 
 
 IV. AN INVITATION TO SUPPER . 41 
 V. MY LORD AND MAJOR D'ARCY 
 
 SUP OUT .... 53 
 
 VI. A CONTINENTAL DRAGOON . 63 
 
 VII. A FRIEND INDEED ... 79 
 
 VIII. UNWELCOME GUESTS . . 93 
 
 IX. THE CONQUERORS . . .103 
 
 X. CORRESPONDENCE . . . 113 
 
 XI. A PROPOSAL . . . .121 
 
 XII. A VISITOR .... 135 
 
 XIII. MISTAKEN IDENTITY . . .147 
 
 XIV. A COUNCIL OF WAR . . .161 
 XV. MAJOR D'ARCY is SURPRISED . 183 
 
 XVI. PAMELA TAKES TO THE ROAD . 193 
 
 XVII. COMPENSATIONS . . . 205 
 
 XVIII. Two THAT WOULDN'T SEE . 215 
 
 XIX. ADJUSTMENTS 229
 
 '
 
 D'Arcy of the Guards 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE INN" ON THE HEATH 
 
 It was a black night near the end of 
 March in the year 1777, and on that very 
 blackness depended the fate of a gallant 
 officer in His Majesty's service, of a certain 
 maid far away in His Majesty's rebellious 
 American colonies, and the telling of this 
 tale ; so often do we find the most momen- 
 tous instant in our lives hang by the slen- 
 der thread of a seeming unimportant 
 circumstance. For if the sluggard moon 
 had not been held back beyond his usual 
 wont by a band of riotous and surly clouds, 
 Dick Conyngham and his pals would 
 never have ventured on so hazardous an 
 undertaking; Major D'Arcy would never 
 have been able to put the Marquis of 
 
 G under an obligation; and that 
 
 omnipotent nobleman would never have 
 i
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 lifted a finger for the betterment of the 
 young soldier's military fortunes, which 
 hung very slack just at this time, as we 
 shall presently see. 
 
 On the edge of the heath not half a 
 score of miles from London, and back 
 from the highway less than a good stone's 
 throw, stood the "Jolly George," a 
 humble but cheerful hostelry, that was 
 particularly affected by Mr. Richard 
 Conyngham and his select circle of night- 
 riders; as audacious and dashing a body 
 of toll-gatherers as ever wore mask and 
 infested the king's post-roads. The 
 casual wayfarer seldom passed into its 
 sanded tap-room; not on account of any 
 prejudice against the hospitality offered 
 there, but because the inn itself was 
 scarce visible from the main road, either 
 by night or day. So its chief visitors were 
 made up of post-boys, coachmen, postil- 
 lions: the riffraff of the road, and the 
 initiated few of Mr. Conyngham's profes- 
 sion, for whom was reserved the little 
 parlor one step down and back from the 
 tap-room. 
 
 It was in special requisition this night, 
 2
 
 The INN on the HEATH 
 
 and no less a person than Dick Conyng- 
 ham himself leaned over the fire poking 
 moodily at the blazing embers. His 
 companions, Gerdor, an able lieutenant of 
 Conyngham's, and Jemmy Twill, the land- 
 lord, a twinkle-eyed rogue, hand-in-glove 
 with these light-fingered gentry, puffed 
 spasmodically at their church - wardens, 
 and were visibly depressed by the moody 
 man's low spirits. 
 
 "I tell you what's truth, Gerdor," he 
 said at last, straightening himself after a 
 last vicious lunge with the tongs, "if we 
 don't make a decent haul in the next three 
 nights, I'm for the North Road." 
 
 "As you say, Captain," replied Gerdor. 
 
 "But what am /to do?" asked Twill, 
 his glass of spirits suspended between lips 
 and table. 
 
 "Oh, you be damned," answered 
 Conyngham, turning a black face toward 
 him. "You're the only one in the crowd 
 that makes anything, and you risk noth- 
 ing." 
 
 "Very kindly spoke, Dick Conyngham. 
 But memory should serve you better." 
 
 "Oh, shut up, Jemmy," flung out 
 3
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 Gerdor through a rift of smoke. But 
 Jemmy didn't; he opened wide, drained 
 his glass and, evidently finding conciliation 
 at the bottom of it, whipped his temper 
 about. "What's the use of complaining, 
 Dick; you've done well enough," he 
 said. 
 
 "What d'ye call 'well enough'? A beg- 
 garly handful of guineas, and my lodging 
 paid? I tell you," turning once more to 
 Gerdor, "we've got to change." 
 
 "I feel it in my bones that our luck is 
 on the mend, Dick," said Gerdor. 
 
 "It could mend much and gain us 
 little," said the other, rising and propping 
 the mantel-shelf with his great shoulders. 
 
 "Wait till Kit turns up; he may have 
 good news this very night," put in Twill. 
 
 "I tell you, we've wrung the road dry, 
 and what if the coach has anything to- 
 night? The cursed moon has turned 
 night into day, and the country's as bright 
 as the Mall at noon." 
 
 "Don't be so sure of that, Captain," 
 
 said Gerdor. "I have an idea that Oliver 
 
 has had his eyes closed for the night." 
 
 He rose and pushed back the curtains. 
 
 4
 
 "I'd stake my life on it, now," he added. 
 "It's as black a night as I ever could wish 
 for." 
 
 Conyngham stepped to his side and cast 
 a weather-wise eye at the quickly-moving 
 masses of black "cloud that told of the 
 coming storm. 
 
 "Well?" questioned Twill. 
 
 "A splendid night for an empty coach," 
 was all the reply he got, as Conyngham 
 lazily dropped into a chair. 
 
 "I'll bet you five quid, Dick, that we 
 bag a full purse to-night," Gerdor said, 
 turning from the window, his spirits 
 revived by the outside gloom. 
 
 "Done," said Conyngham. "If you 
 win, you're welcome to them; if I win, 
 they'll be welcome to me. " 
 
 "And what time can we expect Kit, 
 Jemmy?" asked Gerdor. 
 
 "He was to wait at Demford for the 
 coach ; if it was anything worth while, he 
 would be back here by nine, if not he 
 would take his time." 
 
 "It is now nine, less ten minutes," 
 said Conyngham, raising his eyes to the 
 little clock that was furiously ticking out 
 5
 
 D'AKCY of the GTJABDS 
 
 its race against time. "If he's not here in 
 twenty minutes, I win." 
 
 "You don't win till break of dawn," 
 laughed Gerdor. "Purses have been lifted 
 between the hours of ten at night and six 
 in the morning." 
 
 "Optimism has been the death of better 
 men than you, Gerdor," sneered his chief. 
 
 "Well, I say some more spirits," sug- 
 gested Twill, and meeting with no remon- 
 strance, he bustled into the tap-room, and 
 replenished the glasses. 
 
 Gerdor, roused from his previous apathy, 
 was now impatiently pacing the room; 
 now stopping at the window; now facing 
 the clock with screwed brows. For the hand 
 was already past the hour, and the tip 
 of a smile was beginning to hover around 
 Conyngham's thin lips. 
 
 Jemmy had returned, and he and Ger- 
 dor drank the perennial toast of all high- 
 waymen, in all times : a full purse, to the 
 sarcastic accompaniment of Conyngham's 
 "Some other night on some other 
 road." 
 
 "I believe you'd let a Bishop slip 
 through your fingers to-night, Dick, just 
 6
 
 The INN on the HEATH 
 
 to win my miserable five quid, and to be 
 able to crack one of your miserable jokes, " 
 said Gerdor. 
 
 "On the contrary, I'll fight a coach load 
 to help you win ; I hope to God you will 
 for my own sake." 
 
 "It's getting late for Kit," remarked 
 Twill, comparing his watch with the 
 ticker on the shelf. 
 
 "Damn the luck," muttered Gerdor. 
 
 "Thank you," said Conyngham, and he 
 smiled in an abstracted way, as he bal- 
 anced the blade of his sword on one 
 hand. 
 
 Gerdor 's moment of enthusiasm seemed 
 to have passed; he drew a chair, in no 
 good humor, to the table, and mechanic- 
 ally examined the priming of two neat- 
 looking pistols, while Twill remained the 
 only sanguine member of the trio, with 
 still an eye for the clock, and an ear for 
 the noises of the night outside. 
 
 It was the alert Conyngham, though, 
 that first caught the sound of an approach- 
 ing horseman at full gallop. Listlessness 
 dropped from him like a flash, and his 
 black eyes sparkled with the light of 
 7
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 anticipation, as he stepped quickly to the 
 door at the side, which opened on the tiny 
 courtyard, and flung it open. Gerdor and 
 Twill were at his back in a second. 
 
 "What is it, Dick?" asked Gerdor. 
 
 "Kit," answered Conyngham, "and he 
 has some news worth the telling, or he's 
 using the spur for nothing." 
 
 "You're right, he's coming on at a 
 pace," exclaimed Twill, as he held a 
 flickering candle high overhead, and 
 peered out into the black. 
 
 By this time the rider had turned from 
 the road into the lane, and was making 
 straight for the inn. Evidently the 
 shimmer of Twill's candle-light had 
 become visible, for a loud "Halloa" came 
 out of the darkness. 
 
 "It is Dick," ejaculated Gerdor, and 
 Conyngham gave an answering shout. A 
 second later Kit Darrell and his steaming 
 mare pulled up before the three expectant 
 worthies. A peculiar whistle from Twill 
 brought a sleepy hostler out of the stables, 
 who, after an admonition from Darrell, 
 led away the fagged mount, and the group 
 pushed back into the parlor. 
 8
 
 The INN on the HEATH 
 
 "News, Kit?" asked Conyngham, 
 sharply. 
 
 "The best." 
 
 "Out with it, then," said Gerdor, scarce 
 able to conceal his impatience. 
 
 "The coach leaves Demford at nine," 
 said Darrell, addressing himself ^to 
 Conyngham. 
 
 "Yes, goon." 
 
 "With two passengers." 
 
 "Is that all?" interrupted Twill. 
 
 "Shut up, Twill. Go on Kit," said 
 Conyngham, angrily. 
 
 "One of 'em is a Major D'Arcy, the 
 other is some government nob, and we 
 ought to get six hundred guineas between 
 'em." 
 
 "Who is on the box?" questioned 
 Gerdor. 
 
 "Bill Mace." 
 
 "Good," remarked Conyngham. "And 
 who is the guard?" 
 
 "A new one," said Kit, "we'll have to 
 finish him." 
 
 "Easy enough," rejoined the Captain. 
 
 "Is D'Arcy armed, and the other one?" 
 
 "Yes. I tried to get at their pistols at 
 9
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 Demford, but the blackguards took 'em 
 into supper with them." 
 
 "I hate suspicious passengers," re- 
 marked Twill. 
 
 "Where's the best place to do the 
 business?" asked Gerdor. 
 
 "There's only one place," answered 
 Conyngham, "in the hollow by the 
 bridge. We must be off in five minutes. 
 A glass of brandy, all around, Jemmy." 
 
 "Right you are, Dick," said Twill, as 
 he hurried up the step into the bar. 
 
 "Take a look at your pistols, boys. 
 Fresh priming won't go amiss," ordered 
 Conyngham, the note of command coming 
 into his voice. And by the time Jemmy 
 returned with the refreshment, three pair 
 of murderous-looking pistols had been 
 freshly primed, cloaks and hats had been 
 donned, spurs tightened and swords 
 adjusted. The old toast was drunk with 
 gusto, and the three issued to the yard 
 ready for their adventure, the dancing 
 light of Twill's lantern throwing giant 
 shadows as they strode forward. 
 
 A moment later they were in the saddle, 
 and with a wave to Twill swept gallantly 
 10
 
 down the lane, to meet what was to be 
 the most serious event in Mr. Eichard 
 Conyngham's life. Twill stood gazing 
 after, till the night swallowed them, and 
 the last pounding of hoofs sounded in his 
 ear. 
 
 11
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 MA JOB D'ARCY OF THE GUARDS 
 
 It was shortly before noon of the same 
 day, whose later course saw the adventurers 
 depart from the inn on the heath, that the 
 London coach, Bill Mace on the box, 
 drew up in the yard of the "Bush Tree" 
 at Belden, and deposited a solitary passen- 
 ger on the doorstep. This gentleman's 
 descent from the vehicle was watched with 
 close, quick scrutiny from behind a cur- 
 tained window, and his appearance war- 
 ranted the hasty and obsequious attention 
 of the landlord at the portal of his house, 
 where he bent his lowest, as Major D'Arcy 
 passed into the ordinary. The degree of 
 genuflection is a sure determinant of mine 
 host's opinion, and there was nothing 
 doubtful in the impression which the 
 young soldier made on the worthy hostel- 
 keeper, who now hurried after him to 
 do the utmost courtesy of kitchen and 
 cellar. 
 
 13
 
 D'AKCif of the GUAKDS 
 
 And in truth John Gerald D'Arcy was 
 a man who left impressions, the most 
 definite, on all whom he chanced to meet. 
 The eyes that looked straight ; the month 
 that held firm, or relaxed in gaiety or to 
 mock; the nose that told of birth, all 
 made for a face of singular strength and 
 sensibility; while the lithe, strong body 
 spoke quietly of the graces that nature 
 and fashion give but to a fortunate few. 
 He stood for a moment, ungloved, with 
 outstretched hands before the huge fire of 
 crackling chestnut, that vied eagerly with 
 streaming sunshine, to heat the comfort- 
 able room, then made his way to a corner 
 table and ordered plentifully : meat of the 
 land beef, in quantity, with a dusty 
 bottle from across the channel to keep it 
 company; he named it with no uncer- 
 tainty, loading thereby, with chains, the 
 admiration of his host, who waited. 
 This done, he demanded the "London 
 Gazette" of latest date, and was soon 
 skipping its columns for news of the army. 
 With not much satisfaction to himself, 
 however, as the result, and he cast the 
 sheet impatiently aside, and drummed 
 14
 
 MAJOR D'AECY of the GUARDS 
 
 aimlessly on the table, while his brows were 
 screwed perplexedly. 
 
 He was just recovering from a painful 
 wound in the leg, received most gallantly 
 in the affray with the American rebels at 
 White Plains, New York, six months 
 before, and yet, with a record that hardly 
 another officer in the Guards could equal, 
 his career in the army near the dearest 
 thing in the world to him was brought 
 to a full stop, and he had a lively prevision 
 of its absolute curtailment, which calls 
 for short retrospect and a small matter of 
 personal history. He was the only son of 
 one of those anomalies, a rich Irish peer, 
 Lord D'Arcy, himself a soldier bred, and 
 tried, as a flapping, armless sleeve betok- 
 ened ; mute evidence of the day at Minden 
 years before. The tradition of the 
 D'Arcys included at least three terms at 
 Trinity College, Dublin; tradition, how- 
 ever, could only force young Jack, rebel- 
 lious and reluctant, through two, when his 
 father gave up the fight and packed him 
 off to Paris as secretary on the Embassy, 
 where he stayed for three years, acquiring 
 many choice accomplishments, including 
 15
 
 D'ABCY of the GUARDS 
 
 several unusual tricks with the rapier, his 
 skill with which was phenomenal, and a 
 pretty taste in lace and shoebuckles. His 
 experience was a valuable one, neverthe- 
 less, and so impressed his father that when 
 a change of ministry brought the youngster 
 back to London, the old soldier presented 
 him with a captaincy in the Guards, 
 where, though but a stripling of six and 
 twenty, he took place immediately. Not, 
 I confess, was it firmly established, how- 
 ever, till he had the young Marquis of 
 Vane out one fine morning, for some 
 flippant comment on the style of his hah*. 
 He was perfectly satisfied with disarming 
 his older antagonist, and his hair became 
 the fashion. So did its wearer. He was 
 an idol of the town. No rout was quite 
 successful without him, and no fete, 
 breakfast or supper. No one lost at 
 hazard with quite so good a grace ; and no 
 one held rapier or pressed trigger with 
 firmer hand. Coffee-house and club flung 
 open welcome doors at his approach, and 
 the Guards' mess with him to give the 
 toasts was a thing of joy; while the old 
 lord looked on and grew young again, pay- 
 16
 
 MA JOB D'ARCY of the GUAEDS 
 
 ing guineas by the thousand for privilege ; 
 and Lady D'Arcy, a simple lady who 
 hated the mad, unnatural London life, 
 watched it all with faltering heart and 
 misgivings for her boy. 
 
 But the years slipped by, and he was 
 the same simple, lovable Jack D'Arcy. 
 Dissipation laid a light hand on him, and 
 common sense took hold. He was still a 
 town gallant, but his gaiety was more 
 subdued. An affair with Lady Betty 
 Kew more serious than a score of 
 previous ones, and necessitating constant 
 journeyings and almost removal to Bath 
 had a sobering influence, that was rather 
 intensified when the inconstant jilted 
 him for the Earl of Strathleigh, who 
 carried his arm in a sling for some months 
 afterwards, however, as the result of her 
 indiscretion. It was about this time that 
 he got his majority ; and command of a 
 battalion added to the seemliness of his 
 port, though it took nothing from his 
 good humor, and his brogue lost none of 
 its insinuating charm. 
 
 Then came parlous days. The rabble in 
 the American colonies were becoming 
 17
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 defiant, seditious, even rebellious, and 
 the Guards were shipped off to Boston 
 Harbor, to teach the provincials a needed 
 lesson in loyalty and obedience, which 
 curiously enough they refused to learn. 
 And one fine day Jack D'Arcy, at the 
 head of his battalion, charged up Breed's 
 Hill to scatter the intrenched and fool- 
 hardy yokels. But that any one should 
 live to chronicle it the Guards scattered 
 and fled before they reached the top, 
 with Jack and his brother officers cursing 
 and belaboring then* backs with their 
 swords. They reformed at the bottom 
 and undertook the hideous task again, 
 with like result; once more and this 
 time with success, but with what a tale 
 to tell at muster call ! D 'Arcy was com- 
 plimented by Sir William Howe, and, 
 twinkling, remarked that "the hill must 
 have been defended by Irishmen." It 
 might as well not have been taken at all, 
 as it turned out, for the inconsiderate 
 Mr. Washington, not long after, forced 
 the whole British army to retire, and it 
 set sail for New York, where fell the mis- 
 chance that was like to bring ill -fame to 
 18
 
 MAJOR D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 the house of D'Arcy and disaster to its 
 heir. 
 
 It was this : among the group of young 
 officers that served on the staff of General 
 Howe was a certain young nobleman whose 
 father was a younger brother of the power- 
 ful Marquis of G . He, in common 
 
 with most of his associates, among whom 
 was D'Arcy, spent most of his nights at 
 the gaming table. And after the Battle 
 of Long Island (where His Majesty's 
 forces, with some slight aid from their 
 German allies, literally annihilated the 
 Colonials, and which put the pleasant 
 town of New York completely at their dis- 
 posal), the gambling was high and inces- 
 sant. One night it was a memorable 
 one to D'Arcy this young nobleman was 
 pitted against the Guardsman for hours, 
 and arose livid from the sitting, a tempo- 
 rary bankrupt. But, taking his ill-luck 
 unkindly, he dashed the cards in his 
 rival's face, with a foul insinuation. The 
 provocation was flagrant, the insult heard 
 by a room full that jumped to its feet 
 aghast. Apology was demanded and 
 refused; the insult repeated, and they 
 19
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 met not half an hour afterward. The 
 young nobleman was grievously wounded, 
 and try never so hard as the participants 
 did, the affair could not be hushed up, 
 and came to the ears of Headquarters, 
 where dueling was frowned at and stamped 
 upon viciously. Luckily for Major 
 D'Arcy, the fight at White Plains occurred 
 two days afterward, and he fell with a bul- 
 let in his leg, which enabled Headquarters 
 to be lenient, and he was gazetted home 
 on sick leave (on the same ship, in fact, 
 that carried the wounded young noble- 
 man), with private advices, however, for 
 the war office, to the effect that he had 
 better not again be given active service ! 
 
 In ignorance of this, once convalescence 
 was past, he made application for im- 
 mediate detail on active duty, but to his 
 astonishment and chagrin, he was placed 
 only on waiting orders. For two months 
 now, he and his father had been bringing 
 every influence to bear, leaving no stone 
 unturned, to get orders returning him to 
 his regiment in the colonies. To no pur- 
 pose. The young nobleman's friends, 
 among whom was the powerful Marquis 
 20
 
 of G , before spoken of, who fed in 
 
 the matter a private grudge of years' stand- 
 ing against Lord D'Arcy, foiled their 
 every attempt, and the house of D'Arcy 
 was in despair. 
 
 Day after day the "Gazette" appeared, 
 with always the same hideous omission: 
 no orders for Major John Gerald D'Arcy, 
 of the Grenadier Guards. The town began 
 to talk. Why, if Major D'Arcy was so 
 brilliant an officer, did Government detain 
 him in London? was a question on tip- 
 tongue of the malignant, and one difficult of 
 answer by the old Lord's intimates and the 
 Guardsman's friends. It took credulity 
 the most amiable to believe that the 
 people of the wounded young nobleman 
 were using such strenuous efforts to ruin 
 the career of his opponent. Yet such was 
 the case. Their success, too, was assured 
 with the powerful aid of the Marquis of 
 
 G , and they would have continued to 
 
 baffle every move on D'Arcy's part, if 
 Chance had not taken pity on his quandary 
 and presented, all unknown to him, a 
 solution. 
 
 He had finished his meal and paid the 
 21
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 account. A glimpse through the window 
 of fresh horses being put to the coach, 
 gave notice that the start was at hand. 
 His fingers were at the buckle of his 
 cloak, when his host stood before him, 
 hesitating and embarrassed, but with evi- 
 dent import in his manner. 
 
 "Pardon me, sir, but you've booked the 
 whole coach for London, sir, have you 
 not?" was his question. 
 
 "I have." 
 
 "I beg pardon, sir, but there is a 
 gentleman ' ' 
 
 "I know," interrupted D'Arcy, "but 
 the gentleman will not get to London 
 to-night in my coach. If I preferred 
 company I should not have booked all the 
 
 "I quite understand, sir," stammered 
 the landlord, "but the gentleman's private 
 chariot has broken down just beyond the 
 town, and it is most important that he 
 should reach London to-night." 
 
 "Why doesn't he hire a chaise?" 
 
 "There are but two in the town, sir, 
 and they are engaged." 
 
 "What did you say was the gentleman's 
 22
 
 MAJOR D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 name?" questioned D'Arcy, relenting a 
 trifle. 
 
 "Mr. Mr. Blunt," quavered Boniface, 
 feeling, however, that he had gained his 
 point, which he had. 
 
 "And can you vouch for him?" asked 
 D'Arcy. "I've no desire to ride up to 
 London with some light-fingered gentle- 
 man who may take a fancy to my 
 watches." 
 
 "Oh, sir," cried the man, almost 
 hysterically, as D'Arcy remembered after- 
 ward, "that the likes of me should ever 
 dare to give the likes of him a character!" 
 
 "Well, tell your Mr. Blunt to look 
 sharp," laughed D'Arcy, convinced that 
 his fellow traveler would not disturb the 
 peace, and he made exit to the courtyard 
 in time to hear Mace, the ruddy Jehu, 
 giving final directions about the off leader, 
 while the guard was shoving the last par- 
 cels into the apron. A few moments 
 later, he was aware of some one coming 
 out behind him, and wheeling about, he 
 came face to face with a tall, vigorous, 
 distinguished looking, old gentleman, 
 whose eyes seemed to bore through every- 
 23
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 thing they lighted on. The inn keeper 
 followed humbly at his heels, and carried 
 two leather portmanteaux. 
 
 "I imagine, sir, that it is to your 
 courtesy I am indebted for my coach- 
 seat," said the gentleman, addressing 
 D'Arcy. 
 
 "Is this a Mr. Mr. Blunt?" ques- 
 tioned D'Arcy, staring. He had pre- 
 figured to himself some dapper goldsmith 
 or smug and comfortable draper, and was 
 entirely unprepared for the man of un- 
 doubted fashion and breeding who 
 addressed him. 
 
 "Yes," was the reply, "I am the Mr. 
 Blunt whom the good man here has 
 recommended to your consideration." 
 
 "The pleasure is mine, sir," announced 
 D'Arcy. 
 
 "And may I ask the name of the gentle- 
 man by whose condescension I ride? You 
 are of the army, sir?" questioned Blunt, 
 taking in the military cloak, and the 
 gleam of scarlet coat that showed from 
 under. 
 
 "Major D'Arcy " 
 
 "Not D'Arcy of the Guards?" asked 
 24
 
 MAJOR D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 the old man quickly, and his eyes fairly 
 snapped, as he waited for reply. 
 
 "The same," said D'Arcy, not tin- 
 pleased at the other's knowledge. "Have 
 we friends in common?' ' 
 
 "I think not, " said the other, icily, and 
 turned to give directions for the bestowal 
 of his bags, which being accomplished, he 
 entered the coach, followed by D'Arcy, 
 much to the relief of Mace, who, as the 
 nimble guard slammed the door, gave the 
 leaders their head, the wheelers his whip, 
 and the coach plunged out of the yard; 
 the huzzas of the hostlers sounding after 
 far down the road.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 TWO IX A COACH 
 
 The scent of earth hung on the after- 
 noon air first token of a laggard spring; 
 the sun old-time peacemaker between 
 the seasons stood high at first, forcing 
 the last bit of reluctant frost from out the 
 ground (innocent cause of Mace's anathe- 
 mas, as he urged his steaming horses on, 
 while first front, then back wheels sunk, 
 hub-deep, into the mire), then played 
 hide-and-seek with some scudding clouds 
 that spoke of a brewing storm, and finally 
 disappeared behind the hills, leaving a 
 chill wind to remind the travelers, in a 
 cutting way, of his genial absence. 
 
 D'Arcy's companion had settled him- 
 self comfortably in the ample folds of a 
 sable-lined cloak, and though taciturn and 
 uninclined to converse, D'Arcy felt that 
 the older man was watching him closely. 
 He was convinced, too, that Mr. Blunt 
 was traveling incognito: no plain mister 
 27
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 journeyed in furs or dipped snuff 
 genuine Vigo from a jeweled snuff-box ; 
 and there was an air of distinction and 
 quality about the man that no mere "Mr. 
 Blunt" could have possessed. But it 
 worried D'Arcy not a whit, though he did 
 wonder why the mention of his name had 
 frozen the stranger's cordiality. 
 
 It was over the jeweled snuff-box that 
 conversation first opened. Amiably accept- 
 ing its polite proffer, D'Arcy drew off a 
 glove, and took a pinch of the aromatic 
 powder, commenting at the same time on 
 its choice flavor. 
 
 "Ah, yes," said Blunt, snapping the 
 box lid, and dusting his fingers delicately. 
 "I'll give up the habit when my stock of 
 this is gone. You younger men of the army 
 don't affect it much?" he questioned. 
 
 "We've fallen low, and smoke the 
 weed," laughed D'Arcy. 
 
 "A vicious use of it," remarked the 
 other. 
 
 "It has compensations." 
 
 "But no graces," said Blunt. 
 
 "We have not the manners of our 
 fathers," remarked D'Arcy.
 
 TWO in a COACH 
 
 " 'Twere better if you had.'' 
 
 "You grasp my meaning entirely, sir.'* 
 
 "The soldiers of your father's day 
 would not have fled before a mob of 
 farmers," said the old man, irrelevantly 
 and with some bitterness. 
 
 "You refer to the campaign in the colo- 
 nies?" asked D'Arcy 
 
 "I do, sir." 
 
 "The soldiers of my father's time were 
 never pitted against Englishmen." 
 
 "Don't call that rabble English," cried 
 the other, testily. 
 
 "Call 'em what you will, they fight like 
 Englishmen," said D'Arcy. 
 
 "Well, Burgoyne will settle the busi- 
 ness before the year is out," remarked 
 Blunt, having recourse once more to the 
 snuff-box. 
 
 "I trust so," answered D'Arcy, 
 abstractedly. 
 
 "And when do you rejoin your regi- 
 ment?" questioned Blunt, his eyes twin- 
 kling, unnoticed by his companion. 
 
 "God knows!" ejaculated D'Arcy. 
 "An honorable wound seems no recom- 
 mendation to Government for active serv- 
 29
 
 D'ARCY of tJie GUARDS 
 
 ice, and they keep me here eating my 
 heart out, while they send the king's 
 money to Germany for men who have not 
 the slightest inclination to join in the 
 quarrel." 
 
 "I have heard something of it," said 
 Blunt. 
 
 "No doubt," rejoined D'Arcy. 
 
 "You need friends at court." 
 
 "It's a sorry day for soldiers when their 
 records don't plead for "em," said 
 D'Arcy, drily 
 
 "Records are double-faced," ventured 
 the old man, snuffing. 
 
 ""What do you mean by that, sir?" 
 
 "Young blades nowadays are too fond 
 of their blades," said the other, glancing 
 out of the window, as if to attach no 
 special significance to his words. 
 
 "Ah, " said D'Arcy, in wonder ; "you've 
 heard of that affair? Well, let me tell 
 you, sir, that when a man who holds His 
 Majesty's commission refuses to draw his 
 sword in defense of his honor, it will be a 
 bad day for His Majesty. ' ' 
 
 "May be," said Blunt, curtly, and they 
 relapsed into silence, D'Arcy cudgeling 
 30
 
 TWO in a COACH 
 
 his brain for the identity of the man, who, 
 by innuendo, showed himself so knowing 
 his personal affairs. 
 
 The color of the afternoon had changed 
 to gray, and at five, as they cantered down 
 the high street of Scorley, the lights were 
 twinkling all about, and the night was 
 coming on apace. There was a quick 
 change of horses, and lighting of lanterns, 
 while Mace and the alert guard gulped 
 their spirits in the tap-room; then, with 
 a loud "Get along, lads," from Mace, and 
 a merry wind from the guard's horn, they 
 dashed out of town toward Demford, the 
 next stop. They had almost reached that 
 village, after three hours of temper-trying 
 jolts, before D'Arcy again addressed his 
 companion, who had evidently been doz- 
 ing most part of the time, judging from 
 the familiar sounds that came out of the 
 cloak which muffled him. 
 
 "I am told my host of the Demford Inn 
 offers very good cheer," he said, "and we 
 are near at hand, if I've not mistaken." 
 
 "Hunger has me in its grip," mur- 
 mured Blunt, sitting up. "What's the 
 hour?" 
 
 31
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 D'Arcy tugged at his fob, and the 
 repeater chimed eight and the quarter. 
 
 "Good," said the old man, "almost on 
 time." 
 
 "If these cursed roads were not so 
 hellish rough," said D'Arcy, "we would 
 be in London by two." 
 
 "It's a sad journey for gouty legs," 
 remarked Blunt. 
 
 "It's a miserable journey for any," re- 
 joined D'Arcy. And at that moment, with 
 a loud clatter the horses struck the cobbles 
 of the inn yard, and with a hearty 
 "Who-a!" Mace brought them up on their 
 haunches, just beyond the wide-open door. 
 
 Several aproned drawers from the tap- 
 room, headed by the beaming host, whose 
 jaw fell when two only descended from 
 the coach, but whose face resumed its 
 wonted smile again when he became aware 
 of their quality, bustled about and assisted 
 the stiffened passengers into the lighted, 
 cheery ordinary, where a welcome blaze of 
 logs, made particularly bitter, by compar- 
 ison, the remembrance of their dreary 
 hour's ride. 
 
 A supper was ordered that fully justified 
 32
 
 TWO in a COACH 
 
 the landlord in his opinion of his guests, 
 and they ate ravenously, not slighting 
 either what they drank. In fact, Blunt 
 engulfed such prodigious quantities of 
 port that his gout was no longer a mystery 
 if it ever was to his younger compan- 
 ion. He mellowed, too, under its potency, 
 and leaned to D'Arcy with laughing eyes 
 better to catch the fun of the Irishman's 
 wit, which was bubbling. So loud they 
 grew, and really gay, that the clock's 
 hands fairly flew in disgust at their 
 ribaldry, and stood pointing at the hour of 
 departure nine, before they were aware. 
 
 "Is the road clear?" asked D'Arcy of 
 the keeper, as they stood once more on 
 the threshold. 
 
 " There have been one or two suspicious 
 characters about the town these last two 
 days, sir," replied the man. 
 
 "No robberies, though?" 
 
 "None for a week past, sir.'* 
 
 "This is Conyngham's borough, isn't 
 it?" said Blunt. 
 
 "He is supposed to be about, sir," 
 answered the landlord. 
 
 "Then it's a rotten one," laughed 
 33
 
 D'AKCY of the GUARDS 
 
 D'Arcy. "Come on, Mr. Blunt, we'll 
 risk Conyngham." 
 
 Blunt followed the Irishman rather 
 dubiously, and was particular in the 
 rearrangement of his portmanteaux. They 
 were fixed at last, however, and the start 
 made. 
 
 "Have you pistols, Major?" asked 
 Blunt. 
 
 "I have, Mr. Blunt, and a pretty pair 
 of barkers they are." He leaned forward 
 and drew two silver-mounted pistols from 
 his capacious pockets. "I'll just look to 
 their priming. May you happen to have 
 anything of the sort yourself?" 
 
 "Yes, here," replied Blunt. 
 
 "And your rapier?" questioned D'Arcy. 
 
 "Yes," said Blunt. 
 
 "Fie, fie, Mr. Blunt, you should leave 
 blades to the blades, sir." 
 
 "You have me there, Major," laughed 
 Blunt. ' 
 
 "Well, you'll admit they're handy 
 weapons on occasion." 
 
 "You're better authority than I," said 
 the old man, in the same tone that had 
 stopped conversation before. 
 34
 
 TWO in a COACH 
 
 "Well, I won't deny it," said D'Arcy, 
 "and I entirely agree with my own 
 opinion." 
 
 "It's as black as the ace of spades," 
 remarked the old man, peering out. 
 
 "It's as black as the deuce of spades, 
 which is just twice as black as the ace," 
 rejoined D'Arcy, leaning to his window. 
 
 "Well, it must be endured," he added, 
 settling himself as comfortably as was pos- 
 sible in the swaying, lurching chariot, 
 while Blunt did the same. 
 
 They had struggled on through the 
 night for near an hour D'Arcy had 
 appealed to his repeater once, and it had 
 chimed the three-quarters when they 
 struck a comparatively level bit of road. 
 
 "We must be cutting across country 
 now," remarked D'Arcy. 
 
 "Why?" questioned Blunt. 
 
 "We're running so smoothly, ' ' answered 
 the Irishman gaily, and the words were 
 scarce off his lips when the coach came to 
 a stop, with a jolt that sent them flying 
 forward. At the same moment there 
 were two shots in quick succession and a 
 jumble of cursing voices. 
 35
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 "Quick, man, your pistols!" cried 
 D'Arcy, and he sprang from the coach, 
 just as a giant figure charged up on horse- 
 back. "Give way there, you damned 
 scoundrel," yelled Gerdor, with an oath. 
 They fired simultaneously, and D'Arcy 
 heard the crash of glass behind, while 
 Gerdor, with a cry or a sob, faded into 
 the black of his mount, which reared, 
 and galloped off with a senseless thing 
 bouncing on its rump. 
 
 There were shots on the far side of the 
 coach, too, and then D'Arcy, as he ran 
 forward, heard the quick click of steel. 
 He pushed under the heads of the quiver- 
 ing leaders and stumbled against a man 
 lying huddled ; as he recovered himself find 
 turned, the blood seemed driven from his 
 heart. In the feeble shimmering light 
 that the coach lamp cast, he saw Blunt, 
 his old face spread over with a fearful 
 pallor, standing with his back against the 
 panels, in the last weak struggle with a 
 man who seemed to be playing with him, 
 so supple and powerful did he show in 
 every movement. With a shout D'Arcy 
 sprang toward them. "You bastard!" he 
 36
 
 TWO in a COACH 
 
 cried, "fight with a man your equal," and 
 he engaged with Dick Conyngham, at the 
 very moment that Blunt 's sword fell from 
 his hand, and the old man himself sank 
 exhausted. 
 
 "I'll slit that white throat of yours," 
 gasped Conyngham; but in the moment 
 of saying it he knew that he had met his 
 master ; he was fighting against a wrist of 
 steel and a skill that was infernal. With 
 a curse he gave ground before the fierce 
 assault of his opponent, and the second 
 later so swiftly that the blackguard 
 never knew his fate D'Arcy's blade 
 drove through his heart. Dick Conyng- 
 ham had won his wager 1 
 
 Blunt slowly crawled to his feet, and 
 stood shaking like one with a palsy. His 
 lips were ashen, and his eyes burned with 
 the fever of fear. He put out an unsteady 
 hand as D'Arcy came up. "My God, 
 man, ' ' he mumbled, ' 'you've saved my life. " 
 
 "The rascal had a strong wrist, but he 
 was a novice," said D'Arcy, supporting 
 Blunt while he unscrewed a flask and put 
 the brandy to his lips. Then he added : 
 "It was a very pretty fight. " 
 37
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 "Pretty fight be damned!" ejaculated 
 the other. "It was abominable." 
 
 "As you please, sir," acquiesced 
 D'Arcy, and he drained the remainder of 
 the potent liquid himself. "And now 
 let's look about us." 
 
 They found the once nimble guard 
 sprawling forward on the top of the 
 coach, quite dead; under the feet of the 
 frightened leaders lay Kit Darrell; the 
 guard had brought him down the first 
 shot. Of Bill Mace, the driver, they 
 could find no trace, though they beat 
 about the road on either side for yards, 
 and made the night echo with their 
 halloas. 
 
 "It's a good riddance of the rascal," 
 said Blunt, at last. 
 
 "Which means that I must tool the 
 hearse into London," answered D'Arcy, 
 comically. And he did, with Blunt sit- 
 ting beside him on the box. 
 
 The towers of the city were toning three 
 as they swung through the deserted 
 streets, and the far-away cry of the watch 
 on its round echoed "All's well!" which 
 was right, save for the dead guard lurch- 
 
 38
 
 TWO in a COACH 
 
 ing backward and forward inside the 
 coach, and Dick Conyngham and his pal 
 lying out on the heath miles away. 
 
 As for Major John Gerald D'Arcy, the 
 little adventure of the night, all unknown 
 to him, had changed the current of his 
 life.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 AN INVITATION TO SUPPER 
 
 The London sun had risen, hnng high 
 over the city, and was well on its descent 
 before D'Arcy awoke the following day, in 
 his father 's house, and rang for his serv- 
 ant. That worthy appeared immediately, 
 evidently being in Avait for the summons, 
 his face lighted with a grin of welcome. 
 
 "Tim, you rascal," cried D'Arcy, 
 springing up, "why didn't you call me? 
 The day's gone." 
 
 "Faith, Master Jack, I was waiting for 
 you to call me," answered Tim, echoing 
 his master's brogue. 
 
 "Well, get me dressed and shaved at 
 once, ye spalpeen. Do you want me to 
 lose a whole day out of my life?" And 
 in a moment master and man were inex- 
 tricably mixed in the mysteries of a 
 dandy's toilet. For D'Arcy was a dandy, 
 and few men of fashion in the town 
 equaled him in his finery, and no valet 
 41
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 compared with Tim, to whom the chief 
 savor of life came from boasting, at the 
 coffee house and footman 's club, where he 
 was a privileged member, of D'Arcy's 
 pre-eminence among the London gallants. 
 
 The operation once over, the guards- 
 man, exquisitely powdered and patched, 
 and wrapped in the most gorgeous of 
 brocaded dressing-gowns, sipped his dish 
 of chocolate and fingered a pile of accumu- 
 lated notes, bills and letters that were 
 spread before him. 
 
 "Are my father and mother well, 
 Tim?" he asked. 
 
 "Very, sir. And his lordship and my 
 lady are very anxious to see you." 
 
 "Take my compliments to Lady 
 D'Arcy, and say that I shall pay my 
 respects to her in half an hour." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 He was departing on his errand, when a 
 tap at the door halted him. 
 
 "What is it?" questioned D'Arcy. 
 
 There was whispering through the door- 
 crack between a footman and Tim. 
 
 "It's Captain Gregory is below wanting 
 to see you, sir," said the latter. 
 42
 
 An INVITATION to SUPPER 
 
 "Tell the blockhead to show him up at 
 once." 
 
 "Ye blockhead, show him up at once," 
 said Tim loudly after the departing 
 flunkey, and then lie left the room with 
 his own messages. 
 
 At the sound of footsteps along the 
 passage, D'Arcy threw down a half-read 
 letter and rushed to the door. There was 
 a welcome in his eyes that shone for few, 
 and he grasped the huge red-coated figure 
 that entered a moment later, in a pressure 
 of arms that made the other wince. 
 "Greg, me boy, you're a joy to me 
 sight," said D'Arcy. 
 
 "Unhand me, you ruffian," gasped 
 Gregory, struggling. 
 
 "May I ask where you come from?" 
 laughed the Irishman, holding him off at 
 arm's length. 
 
 "You may, but you'll get no satisfac- 
 tion till you answer the same question 
 about yourself." 
 
 "Just from the hands of Tim," 
 answered D'Arcy, sparkling. 
 
 "I can see that," sniffed Gregory, tap- 
 ping his snuff-box and taking a pinch. 
 43
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 "You've powder enough in your hair for a 
 "battalion, and you're patched like Peg 
 Woffington." 
 
 Gregory's own hair needed little to 
 whiten it, and as for patches, they would 
 have looked like milestones, on his red, 
 wrinkled visage. 
 
 "You're a man of no taste, Captain 
 Gregory. I refer you to Tim, if you'd 
 know half me beauties," laughed D'Arcy. 
 
 "You're a damnable coxcomb," said 
 the other. 
 
 "Well, you're lucky to be able to call 
 names at me here this morning." 
 
 "What d'ye mean?" asked Gregory; 
 "not more of your cursed folly?" 
 
 "I crossed swords with a gentleman last 
 night, " said D 'Arcy. 
 
 " What!" cried Gregory. 
 
 And the story was told, with a touch 
 of humor to relieve its ghastliness, and a 
 listener who sat agape. 
 
 "And who was Blunt?" he asked, at the 
 conclusion. 
 
 "A man of mystery. " 
 
 "And where did he go?" 
 
 "He was met at the 'Bell and Crown,' 
 44
 
 An INVITATION to SUPPER 
 
 when we drew up, by a couple of servants 
 and disappeared." 
 
 "Didn't you ask who he was?" ques- 
 tioned Gregory. 
 
 "I was too sleepy to care." 
 
 "You're beautiful," said the captain, 
 in querulous disgust. 
 
 "Thank you," laughed D'Arcy. "I 
 knew you'd come around. " 
 
 "It sounds like a chap-book story." 
 
 "I'd swear it was a dream if it wasn't 
 for this." And D'Arcy, taking down a 
 cloak, showed where Gerdor's bullet had 
 clipped its way. "And this," he added, 
 handing Gregory the stained blade. 
 
 "You saved Blunt's life," cried 
 Gregory. 
 
 "And the other rascal's soul, Greg." 
 
 "Well, you almost take the life out of 
 my news," said the other. 
 
 "What is it?" asked D'Arcy, eagerly. 
 
 "Not not " he faltered, as his friend 
 
 drew a paper from his coat. 
 
 "Yes, Jack, it's come at last. Read 
 that." 
 
 D'Arcy had eagerly grasped the 
 "Gazette," and read with breaking voice: 
 45
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 "Captain Charles Gregory, surgeon of the 
 1st battalion of Foot Guards, has been 
 ordered on active duty to the colonies in 
 America." 
 
 "Oh, Greg, 1 am glad," he cried, 
 almost choking, "but I wish I were going 
 too." 
 
 "I'll not go unless you do, lad," said 
 Gregory, quietly. 
 
 "Are you mad, Greg?" said D'Arcy, 
 staring. 
 
 "No angry," answered the older man, 
 sniffing huge quantities of the contents of 
 his little box. 
 
 "My father and I can never allow it," 
 replied D'Arcy, quickly. 
 
 "Since when have my Lord D'Arcy and 
 Major D'Arcy assumed control of my 
 actions?" 
 
 "Listen, Greg," said the young soldier, 
 pleadingly. 
 
 "Listen yourself," snapped the doctor, 
 visibly ruffled, and he went on before 
 D'Arcy could protest further: "I have 
 served in the British army thirty odd 
 years. I was at Minden sixteen years ago, 
 where your father was chief aide on Lord 
 46
 
 An INVITATION to SUPPER 
 
 Granby's staff, and I saved his life, if I 
 couldn't save his arm, that day. You 
 were a lad then, but you were a man later 
 when I went to Quebec with Wolfe. For 
 the past two years, you and I have been 
 together, Jack, doing our best for a foolish 
 king and his mad ministers, and now, if 
 after all you've suffered they have no place 
 for you at the front, they will have one 
 more vacancy to fill; for I'll quit the 
 service. " 
 
 "You're a dear old Greg," said D'Arcy, 
 taking his friend's hand, "but I never 
 could allow any such sacrifice." 
 
 ' ' Sacrifice ! ' ' ejaculated Gregory . "Why, 
 boy, there would be no pleasure for me 
 out there without you." 
 
 "We'll speak with my father about it. 
 I haven't seen him yet; he may have 
 news." 
 
 "I'm afraid not, Jack. It's about 
 town, that the war office is down on you, 
 and I believe it's so." 
 
 "It's not the war office. It's that 
 cursed young beast and his cursed old 
 
 protector, the Marquis of G ," said 
 
 D'Arcy, angrily. 
 
 47
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 "You're right; they're at the bottom 
 of it." 
 
 "Faith, I wish they were at the bottom 
 of the pit," rejoined the young man. 
 
 "Oh, why will you mix in silly quarrels, 
 lad?" groaned the doctor. 
 
 "And would you have had me put up 
 with the young blackguard's insults?" 
 
 "You should have caned him." 
 
 "He needed a little blood-letting," 
 answered D'Arcy. "I'm sorry I let him 
 off so easily, now." 
 
 "You're your father's own son, " sighed 
 Gregory. 
 
 "You compliment my mother," laughed 
 D'Arcy. "Come," he added, "we'll go 
 to the old gentleman." Throwing off his 
 gown, he adjusted his coat and ruffles 
 before a mirror to the scoffing of 
 Gregory, whose own frills were of the 
 simplest and a few moments later they 
 were making their way to the apartments 
 of Lord D'Arcy. 
 
 They found the old lord in the book- 
 room enveloped in a cloud of smoke, from 
 which he emerged, pipe in hand, to give 
 them a boisterous welcome. 
 48
 
 An INVITATION to SUPPER 
 
 "Ye rogues," he cried, "you're a 
 long time reporting to your superior 
 officer." 
 
 "The fine gentleman was at his curling 
 irons," laughed Gregory. 
 
 "That I should ever have fathered a 
 fop, ' ' said my lord, winking slyly at his 
 old comrade. 
 
 "Greg says I'm my father's own son." 
 
 "And so he is," asserted Gregory. 
 
 "You're libelous, Captain Gregory," 
 shouted the old gentleman. 
 
 "He was known all over town as the 
 Irish dandy, Jack," answered the doctor. 
 And they all roared, while Lord D'Arcy, 
 to cover his confusion, had recourse to the 
 decanter, from which he filled glasses for 
 them all, and they drank merrily. After- 
 wards there was hot discussion and argu- 
 ment over Gregory's late orders; father 
 and son bullying their old friend till he 
 was stamping about the room in a rage. 
 The conversation was interrupted by the 
 entrance of a footman. 
 
 "What is it?" asks my lord. 
 
 "A note from the Marquis of G , 
 
 my lord," said the man. 
 49
 
 D'AECY of the GUARDS 
 
 "From whom?" cried both D'Arcys in 
 the same breath, springing to their feet. 
 
 "From the Marquis of G , my 
 
 lord, and a reply is wanted. " 
 
 Lord D 'Arcy had broken the wax and 
 was reading eagerly by this time, Jack 
 and the doctor looking on in wonder. 
 
 "What is it, father?" questioned the 
 young man. 
 
 "Take it. What do you make of it 
 yourself?" 
 
 D'Arcy read aloud: "The Marquis 
 
 of G presents his compliments to 
 
 Lord and Major D'Arcy, and begs the 
 pleasure of their company to supper on 
 Thursday night." 
 
 "Is that all?" asked Gregory. 
 
 "Every word," said my lord. 
 
 "He's damned impertinent," said 
 Jack. 
 
 "I quite agree with you, my son. Say 
 no answer, James. ' ' 
 
 "Yes, my lord," and the footman was 
 taking leave ; but Gregory barred the way. 
 
 "Are you two in your right minds?" he 
 cried. "You've both been berating me 
 over a mere difference of opinion ; but can 
 50
 
 An INVITATION to SUPPER 
 
 there be any difference of opinion here? 
 "Who is it has been blocking your path at 
 every step? Who is it has the power to 
 remove every obstacle to your happiness, 
 and send Jack back to his regiment? It's 
 
 the Marquis of G . This invitation is 
 
 Heaven sent, and only God knows why. 
 Would you cast it back in his face?" 
 
 "You speak sense on occasion, Greg," 
 said the old lord, wavering. 
 
 "I'll not go," said Jack, sullenly. 
 
 "You shall," said Gregory, "or I resign 
 my commission this very day. " 
 
 "He is right, Jack ; we must pocket our 
 pride," said the old man. "Wait, 
 James." And sitting down, LordD'Arcy 
 wrote an acceptance to "the Marquis of 
 
 G 's courteous invitation," which 
 
 Gregory approved, and it was sent off 
 much against the advice of the hot-headed 
 Major, who tried his best to thrust aside 
 the great opportunity that Chance had 
 poked under his nose. 
 
 51
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 MY LORD AND MAJOR D'ARCT SUP OUT 
 
 The mysterious summons to sup with 
 the Marquis of G caused much specu- 
 lation in the house of D'Arcy, and yet 
 before the Thursday arrived Gregory had 
 convinced even Jack that it would have 
 been absurd to refuse the invitation. He 
 had been tremendously aided in this by 
 dear little Lady D'Arcy, whose influence 
 with her two hot-heads, as she called the 
 old lord and Jack, was ridiculously out of 
 proportion with the diminutive size of the 
 lady herself. She had the permanent head 
 of the family which was fortunate, for 
 Lord D'Arcy and his son were constantly 
 losing theirs and in all crises assumed 
 directorship, though my lord stormed and 
 the Major faintly rebelled. It was a 
 united family, though, when Thursday 
 night came and the little directress with a 
 trembling heart gave them "God speed" 
 as they drove off in the chariot. 
 53
 
 D'ARCY of me GUARDS 
 
 The Marquis of G was a somewhat 
 
 mysterious nobleman. The head of one 
 of the most powerful Tory families in the 
 kingdom, he had not been actively en- 
 gaged in politics since his youth, and yet 
 there was no more potent influence at 
 Windsor or in Downing street than his. 
 The secret of it was not known, but its 
 existence was never questioned by mem- 
 bers of either party, and even such active 
 upholders of the opposition as Mr. Fox, 
 Mr. Burke and Mr. Pitt acknowledged his 
 power, while they recognized the futility 
 of grappling with anything that seemed so 
 impalpable. He was seldom seen about 
 the town, confining his sociability to a 
 small circle of intimates, and to the 
 younger generation of Londoners his face 
 was unknown. Years before, when White's 
 was at its height, he and Lord D'Arcy 
 both young gallants of the town had an 
 unfortunate rencontre, over a matter that 
 did little credit to either of them, and the 
 Irishman had not come off second best. 
 They had never met since, and it was with 
 rather mixed feelings that the Lord 
 D'Arcy alighted at his old-time antag- 
 54
 
 My LORD and D'ARCY SUP OUT 
 
 onist's door, in Great Portland street. 
 They were much behind the hour they 
 were bidden for eleven and the latest of 
 the guests; for the street was already 
 filled with chariots, sedans, and hackney 
 coaches, while the loud talk of lounging 
 coachmen, footmen and chairmen showed 
 that their masters had been long inside. 
 
 As they entered the long, brilliant draw- 
 ing-room, the first of the evening's several 
 curious incidents as D'Arcy, looking 
 back, remembered took place. The 
 hum of talk subsided as the powdered, 
 pompous lackey announced: "My Lord 
 D'Arcy, Major D'Arcy," and, from the 
 brilliant group of men, one came quickly 
 toward them, who held his arm in a silken 
 sling. It was the young nephew of the 
 
 Marquis of G ; the same who had 
 
 crossed swords so unfortunately with 
 D'Arcy six months before. With a 
 slight trace of awkwardness and restraint, 
 he bade them welcome the company 
 watching covertly saying that his uncle 
 had been unexpectedly detained, and had 
 deputed him to receive the guests. Lord 
 D'Arcy was very gracious, and the Major 
 55
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 was so simple and jolly that what might 
 have been a bad minute was passed 
 over charmingly. No introductions were 
 needed, and soon the old Irishman was in 
 the midst of old cronies exchanging snuff 
 and gossip, while the young one was gaily 
 chaffing with a group of friends and 
 brother-officers. 
 
 In an alcove at the end, the card tables 
 were set, and a group of inveterate gam- 
 blers were indulging in ombre and faro. 
 Their reputations for reckless play had 
 drawn a large group of on-lookers, and 
 the Major found himself leaning over one 
 of the tables, where the play was heaviest, 
 an interested spectator. So interested 
 that it was only suddenly he became 
 conscious, that the buzz of voices in the 
 rooms had ceased. He looked up quickly, 
 and saw his father advancing beside a man 
 nearly as tall as the old lord himself, and 
 whose face had the fascination of famili- 
 arity. A step further toward him, and 
 recognition brought the whole weird scene 
 before his eyes: the inky night, the 
 glimmer of the dim lamp, the shivering 
 horses, and an old man with his back 
 56
 
 My LORD and D'ARCY SUP OUT 
 
 braced against the coach-panels, fighting 
 for his life. "Blunt!" he cried, rushing 
 toward them. 
 
 "Blunt?" said his father, stepping back 
 in amazement, for he had heard the tale a 
 dozen times. 
 
 "Major D'Arcy, allow me to present my 
 
 uncle, the Marquis of G , " his 
 
 nephew was saying. 
 
 "Good God! "ejaculated D'Arcy, "are 
 you the Marquis of G ?" 
 
 "Good God, are you Blunt?" cried the 
 old Irishman, looking from the Marquis 
 to his son in a stupefied way that set the 
 crowd shouting. 
 
 "I was traveling incog," said the old 
 nobleman, grasping D'Arcy's hand. 
 "This young gentleman wouldn't have 
 given me a lift if he had known who I 
 was," he added, his shrewd eyes twinkling, 
 in anticipation of the youngster's embar- 
 rassment. 
 
 "I should have given you a lift, my 
 lord," answered Jack quickly, with a 
 laugh, "but I should have left you to the 
 tender mercies of the gentleman we met 
 on the road afterwards. " 
 57
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 "You're a worthy son of old Jack, " said 
 the Marquis gaily, wringing the yonng 
 man 's hand again, and pleased at his bold- 
 ness. "Come, you dullards," he cried, 
 going up to the gamesters. "Do you think 
 I asked you here to loot one another's 
 purses?" And he unceremoniously swept 
 cards and stakes off on to the floor. 
 "To supper," he said, turning to the 
 company; and leading ^the way with 
 Lord D'Arcy on his right arm and 
 Jack on his left, they entered the dining- 
 room. 
 
 It was a brilliant throng that sat at 
 table: the choice of London's fashion, 
 wit, and powerful; and their host's enter- 
 tainment was worthy of them and of him. 
 The crackle of jests was incessant, and 
 but served to whet the appetite for the 
 good talk that followed. Gossip slipped 
 up on one side of the table and down the 
 other; the war in the colonies was dis- 
 cussed, and the vicious attitude of France ; 
 the ministry was criticised, and Mr. 
 George Washington with his tatterde- 
 malion forces was riddled with witty ridi- 
 cule; the punch-bowl was emptied and 
 58
 
 refilled and emptied again, and useless 
 bottles multiplied apace. 
 
 There were few, if any, of the guests 
 who knew of D'Arcy's and the Marquis of 
 
 G 's adventure in the coach, and all, 
 
 who had seen the young soldier rush for- 
 ward and greet his host as "Blunt," were 
 puzzled, though they all laughed at Jack's 
 unfeigned consternation and Lord D'Arcy's 
 astonishment. It was not till after, when 
 pipe-bowls were aglow, and the serious 
 work of digestion had begun, that any 
 explanation was forthcoming. The old 
 Marquis had risen from his seat at the 
 head of the table, and waiting a moment 
 for silence, raised his glass and said: 
 "Gentlemen, I give you His Majesty, 
 King George." Every man was on his 
 feet in an instant and drained the toast. 
 "And now," added my Lord Marquis, "I 
 have one other toast." He leaned for- 
 ward on the table, and his piercing eyes 
 traveled down the long board till they 
 rested on his nephew standing at the 
 other end. "It needs some explanation," 
 he said, "and though I fear to weary 
 you, it gives me the greatest pleasure to 
 59
 
 D'AECY of the GUARDS 
 
 give it. For some years my family, and 
 that of one of my guests to-night have 
 been on terms of very cordial enmity. 
 Within the year, the youngsters of both 
 houses have seen fit to add fuel to the fire 
 of the old feud, and it seemed likely to 
 mix us all in a very pretty quarrel. " He 
 paused for a moment, and his cold little 
 smile hovered over the faces of his per- 
 plexed guests, who were wondering if the 
 old nobleman had gone daft. "Fortu- 
 nately, " he continued, "any such issue has 
 been averted. A few nights ago, I stood 
 in direst peril of my life, and in the very 
 last moment of respite, I was saved by the 
 courage and skill of the young gentleman, 
 who had been using both against my own 
 flesh and blood. I understand on the 
 very highest authority that this young 
 gentleman is leaving shortly to join his 
 regiment in the colonies, and I want to 
 thank him publicly in this manner be- 
 fore he is out of my reach. I give 
 you, gentlemen, Major John Gerald 
 D'Arcy." 
 
 There was a cry of "D'Arcy, D'Arcy,'* 
 from all over the room, and the young 
 60
 
 My LORD and D'AKCY SUP OUT 
 
 Irishman could have slipped through the 
 floor. His head was reeling, and he 
 could only grasp the hand of his new 
 friend and murmur: "You are too 
 good to me, my lord, you are too good 
 to me. ' ' 
 
 "I can never repay the debt I owe 
 you," said the old Marquis, simply, and 
 his voice quavered. The next moment 
 they were surrounded. The story of Dick 
 Conyngham's luckless attack was told 
 once more, and it was the excuse for a 
 seeming bottomless punch -bowl. The 
 night grew riotous, and it was not till the 
 sun, streaming in through the curtain- 
 guarded windows, put to shame the feeble 
 yellow of the guttering candles that the 
 company broke up. 
 
 The "Gazette," the next day, announced 
 that "Major John Gerald D'Arcy, of the 
 Grenadier Guards, having completely 
 recovered from his severe wound received 
 in the action at White Plains, New York, 
 has been assigned to active duty on the 
 staff of General, Lord Cornwallis." It 
 was less than a fortnight after, that 
 D'Arcy and Gregory set sail in the trans- 
 61
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 port "Aurore," bound for the seat of war 
 in the rebellious colonies. A mysterious 
 Marquis can accomplish many things if he 
 has a mind to.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 A CONTINENTAL DRAGOON 
 
 The same old whimsical Chance that 
 meddles in the smaller affairs of men, 
 twisting and untwisting the courses of 
 their lives, is equally fond of mixing in 
 their larger destinies. It had laid a heavy 
 and ironic hand on the little colonial town 
 of Philadelphia, in Pennsylvania, at the 
 very beginning of the revolutionary strug- 
 gle; whirling it into the storm center of 
 the revolting colonies, hopelessly dividing 
 its staid citizens against one another, and 
 making its cognomen the City of 
 Brotherly Love a mockery in the mouths 
 of men. 
 
 The loyal subjects of good and 
 wise King George for the most part, 
 thrifty Quakers and holders of lucrative 
 office under the crown looked on with 
 dismay at the wild excesses of then* fellow 
 townsmen, culminating in the demagogic 
 Declaration of Independence, and pre-
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 dieted the full and devastating wrath of 
 the Gods. The mill of those revengeful 
 Deities seemed to be grinding faster and 
 finer than was its usual wont, in seeming 
 verification of the prophecy, when that 
 presumptuous mortal, George "Washington, 
 swooped down on the carousing Hessians 
 at Trenton, and for the moment threw the 
 machinery out of gear. 
 
 It took long winter and spring months 
 to repair the damage; Lord Cornwallis, on 
 the very point of taking passage for home, 
 was hastily recalled, to chastise the unheard 
 of audacity of the rebels, and in the course 
 of events got rather the worst of it. The 
 Philadelphia rabble and that traitorous 
 assembly, the so-called Continental Con- 
 gress, led on by such arch-traitors as John 
 Adams, Thomas Jefferson, Morris, Ran- 
 dolph, and others of the same ilk, took 
 heart once more, and while they grew more 
 violent and seditious day by day, even 
 dared to lay hands on the loyalists, 
 who still gloried in their allegiance to 
 King George. 
 
 But the summer was passing and retri- 
 bution was at hand. Sir William Howe, 
 64
 
 A CONTINENTAL DKAGOON 
 
 with a picked army of seventeen or eight- 
 een thousand men, had set out from New 
 York to redeem the benighted town from 
 the clutches of His Majesty's enemies. 
 The loyalists were once more jubilant, and 
 now it was the turn of the rebellious seced- 
 ers to take their place on the anxious seat. 
 None among them occupied it more 
 restlessly than the little Towneshend 
 household, whose fortunes for the next 
 five months are inextricably bound up in 
 this Tale. 
 
 The Towneshend family held high place 
 in old Colonial Philadelphia. The head 
 of the house, Benjamin Towneshend, the 
 youngest son of a youngest son, forced 
 into expatriation by the resistless English 
 law of primogeniture, had settled on the 
 hospitable banks of the Schuylkill and 
 drifted into the channels of trade. In- 
 dustry, acuteness and the West Indies had 
 brought him a liberal fortune, while 
 breeding and good looks fetched a charm- 
 ing wife, and later came two wonderful chil- 
 dren. Success smiled upon him before 
 the young blood in man and wife had run 
 its course, and while they still could enjoy 
 65
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 its bounty. The marvelous stone house, 
 the wonder of the country-side at the 
 time, was built, and the ornate gardens, 
 after the dear old English style, were laid 
 out with hedges of box and clipped yew. 
 It became one of the very few centers of 
 gaiety in the prim little commonwealth. 
 
 The daughter was one of the beauties 
 of the town, and no lovelier penitent 
 stepped from chariot every Sunday and 
 marched up the aisle of Christ Church, 
 nor gayer, sprightlier maid danced minuet 
 at the assemblies, than Pamela Towne- 
 shend. She was a great housewife too, and 
 something of a hoyden besides, if neigh- 
 bors' reports were to be believed, for she 
 rode as dashingly as her brother Edward, 
 and was his companion and equal on many 
 a shooting and fishing trip about the 
 country. All of which filled her father 's 
 heart with pride, and turned the heads of 
 half the youngsters in the colony. 
 
 Then came the journey to London, 
 where the youngest of the youngest met 
 the eldest of the eldest, a man of fashion 
 and title, who was very glad to know his 
 wealthy colonial relative and his "Indian 
 66
 
 A CONTINENTAL DRAGOON 
 
 children," as he jokingly called Pamela 
 and her brother. 
 
 A gay season followed, during which the 
 fluttering mamma feared and trembled for 
 her daughter, who became one of the belles 
 at Tunbridge, and even had the supreme 
 honor of a compliment and toast from 
 the incomparable Beau Beamish himself. 
 
 But the gladness of it all was terribly 
 eclipsed by the sudden illness and death of 
 the father, and it was then that Pamela 
 showed first what burdens her young 
 shoulders were capable of bearing. Ed- 
 ward was but a lad of nineteen, she four 
 years his senior, and her mother, wilting 
 like a stricken flower, looked to her for 
 help and guidance. It was a sad home- 
 going, and the big house seemed blighted 
 by the family's trouble. Pamela was 
 equal to it all, however; she changed 
 places with her mother, who faded into a 
 heartbroken invalid, and took up the 
 household reins with a firm hand. With 
 the invaluable help of their neighbor and 
 her father's old friend, the Quaker, Sam- 
 uel Davis, the many business interests 
 were straightened out; and her cousin, 
 67
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 Cynthia Deane, coming to live with them, 
 brought a ray of sunshine into the hig 
 house, and something more to young 
 Edward. 
 
 Two years slipped by, and the cloud of 
 grief was only just lifting, when signs of 
 the coming political storm grew ominous ; 
 and a year later the storm broke in all its 
 fury, carrying Edward, his sister's joy and 
 his cousin Cynthia's sweetheart, off in the 
 maelstrom. He was a lieutenant in the 
 City Troop, an eager, gallant, patriotic lad, 
 and in spite of the protests of then- Tory 
 neighbor, Davis, his mother and the girls 
 bade him go with an heroic joyfulness. 
 And he journeyed to the camp of His 
 Excellency, General George Washington, 
 with a present of a thousand -golden 
 guineas for the cause. His gallantry at 
 the disastrous battle of Long Island 
 brought him promotion, and later, after 
 that terrible Christmas night, crossing the 
 Delaware, he was honored by a position on 
 the staff of the Commander-in-Chief. 
 
 His fervent letters to the little household 
 kept their spirits high, and their hearts 
 firm ; much needed stimulants were they, 
 68
 
 A CONTINENTAL I>KAGOON 
 
 as the days grew dark and calamity threat- 
 ened. It was late in August, '77, that the 
 rebel army marched through Philadelphia 
 on its way to meet the British, then 
 dropping anchor in Delaware Bay. The 
 devoted women had a hurried glimpse of 
 their boy, who snatched an hour to be 
 with them, and then he was gone again, 
 while for them was the harder task of 
 waiting, waiting, waiting. On the 12th of 
 September came the news of Washington's 
 defeat the day before, at the Brandy wine. 
 The town was in an uproar; Congress 
 bundled up its records and fled to Lan- 
 caster ; the streets were full of timid pa- 
 triots flying they knew not where, and the 
 loyal Tories were exultant, openly at last. 
 No word came from the young aid- 
 de-camp at the front; and as the days 
 passed, sickening dread took full possession 
 of the house; Pamela alone bearing up 
 and refusing to give in to the horrible fore- 
 boding. A fortnight passed. It was 
 early one morning when Cynthia came from 
 the house to take her daily last look at the 
 already autumn-stricken flowers. There 
 were a gallant, sturdy few, that still 
 69
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 colored the beds, and to these she was 
 bending, when she heard a quick step on 
 the path behind her. She turned, and 
 her heart leaped. "Ned!" she cried. 
 
 "Safe safe " she would have fallen, 
 
 but he had her in his arms ; his lips were 
 on her cheek. "Cynthia," she heard him 
 whisper, and she thrilled in consciousness 
 again, as he repeated it. 
 
 "Did I frighten you, dear?" he asked, 
 smiling. 
 
 "Oh, Ned, we had given up hope." 
 
 "And Pamela and mother, they are 
 well?" 
 
 "Yes, and they'll be overjoyed to wel- 
 come you from " she faltered, and he 
 
 clasped her to him. 
 
 "From what, sweetheart?" 
 
 "The dead," she answered, drooping at 
 the memory of the anxious days. 
 
 "Then you've missed me?" he asked 
 tenderly, with a lover's unkindness. 
 
 "Missed you?" she faltered, and her 
 eyes swam as she drew his face to her and 
 kissed him. "How I've missed you! 
 And the army?" she asked timidly. "All 
 is lost? You have surrendered?" 
 70
 
 A CONTINENTAL DRAGOON 
 
 "Surrendered!" he cried. "Never. 
 They've driven ns back, inch by inch, but 
 they've paid dearly for their passage." 
 
 "The way is clear for them, then?" 
 
 "The British will enter Philadelphia 
 this morning," he answered. "It is the 
 happiest chance that I am here to warn 
 you. The General hurried me back with 
 important dispatches for Mr. Eeid, one of 
 our agents here. I've been in the saddle 
 since five this morning." 
 
 "Poor boy, you are worn out." 
 
 "It is nothing," he answered, "if I can 
 but get you to a place of safety." 
 
 "Don't fear for us, dear. Pamela will 
 take care of us." 
 
 "Oh, I know she has the courage of a 
 lion," he said, "but she's a woman, after 
 all." 
 
 "And Mr. Davis will be near at hand," 
 suggested Cynthia. 
 
 "A pretty protector!" laughed the 
 young soldier. "A Tory Quaker, forever 
 preaching non-resistance." 
 
 "He has been very kind to us." 
 
 "Oh, yes," answered Towneshend, a 
 look of impatience crossing his face, "I 
 71
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 know he would be that. But his kindli- 
 ness will hardly impress the sensibilities of 
 a Hessian Yager, or a British Grenadier." 
 
 "You must not be afraid for us, Ned," 
 she cried, bravely. "What harm could 
 come to us here?" 
 
 "I can't help but fear for you, can I? 
 All that's dearest to me in the world, 
 mother, sister, sweetheart, shut up in 
 Philadelphia, and in the hands of the 
 enemy. Oh, if Pamela had only listened 
 to reason when I was here last month, and 
 let me have moved you out of harm's 
 way!" 
 
 "You know, dear, that Aunt Clarissa 
 could not have stood any journey," ven- 
 tured Cynthia, trying to quiet the boy's 
 fears. 
 
 "I know, I know," he answered. 
 "Mother is too delicate for any change, 
 which frightens me all the more for her 
 safety here." 
 
 "Oh, my boy, you are tired and worried. 
 Come into the house and see your mother 
 and Pamela. It will rest you." She 
 took his arm gently, and they turned 
 toward the house, the dusty, travel- 
 72
 
 A CONTINENTAL DRAGOON 
 
 stained, wearied young officer leaning on 
 her in .his perplexity. They were mount- 
 ing the steps to the little terrace, when 
 Pamela and her mother issued from the 
 door. Their cheeks blanched at the sight 
 of him, but he was kissing their color back 
 again before they could cry out. 
 
 "It's Ned, mother, it's Ned!" cried 
 Pamela, her face aglow. 
 
 But the mother knew too well ; she held 
 him in her frail arms and wept as she 
 murmured brokenly, "My boy, my boy." 
 
 They all turned to the garden again, 
 and there under the old trees he told 
 them the disastrous story. 
 
 "And the British?" questioned Pamela, 
 her eyes flashing. 
 
 "They will occupy the town to-day; 
 they may be here at any moment." 
 
 "And you?" she asked. 
 
 "You must thank their tardiness for 
 this sight of me. I couldn't have stopped 
 had they been here." 
 
 "Where do you go from here?" &sked 
 Cynthia. 
 
 "To headquarters at Chester. I don't 
 know the General's plans, but I think 
 73
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 once Sir William Howe and Lord Corn- 
 wallis are arrived in Philadelphia, they'll 
 find some trouble leaving it. Dear 
 mother," he added, turning to her, "I am 
 so anxious for you all." 
 
 "Never fear, my boy," she answered, 
 bravely, "the British would never molest 
 such a harmless old lady ; and Pamela and 
 Cynthia will take good care of me." 
 
 "That we will, dear aunt," said Cynthia. 
 
 "If, as I think, the General's plan is to 
 sit down and watch," went on the young 
 man, "I'll not be far away, and will see 
 you often " 
 
 "You must not risk it, Ned," put in 
 his sister. 
 
 "No one knows the country hereabouts 
 as I do, Pamela," he answered, "and a 
 hundred different paths will bring me, 
 that the enemy knows nothing of." 
 
 "There are dangers enough on every 
 hand without my boy seeking new ones," 
 said his mother, gently. 
 
 "Never fear, dear mother. And 
 Pamela, neither you nor Cynthia must 
 venture out alone." 
 
 "Foolish boy!" she answered, "we'll 
 74
 
 A CONTINENTAL DRAGOON 
 
 take care of ourselves. The British are 
 not ogres. They'll not eat us." 
 
 "They had better not try," laughed 
 Cynthia, taking his hand. "You should 
 see Pamela, Ned, with the new pistols you 
 gave her before you went away. Every 
 night, when Sambo is locking up, she 
 stalks beside him, a pistol in either hand, 
 as fierce as any grenadier." 
 
 "Hush, you silly child," laughed 
 Pamela. 
 
 "I warrant you she'd use 'em too, on 
 occasion," rejoined Towneshend. 
 
 "She shares with my boy, her father's 
 courage," said the fond mother. 
 
 "She will join the army yet, if we don't 
 watch her, aunt," went on the teasing 
 Cynthia. 
 
 "Oh, if I were a man " Pamela was 
 
 beginning when Cynthia again broke in: 
 
 "Why let a little matter of sex deter 
 you? You shoot and ride as well as Ned 
 now, and I've no doubt you'd soon handle 
 his saber better." 
 
 The banter would have gone on inter- 
 minably, for their spirits fairly bubbled 
 over at the joy of the reunion, but inter - 
 75
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 ruption came in the shape of a tall figure 
 that advanced toward them from the 
 house. He was upon them almost before 
 they were aware. 
 
 "It's Mr. Davis," said Cynthia, who 
 first espied him. 
 
 "So it is," said Towneshend, as the 
 straight old Quaker came up. 
 
 He was a giant in size, and he leaned on 
 a huge walking-stick as he gave them 
 greeting. "Good morning, friends," he 
 said, his kindly gray eye taking in the 
 little group at a glance, "this is a family 
 party I scarce expected to find." 
 
 "Our boy has surprised us all this 
 morning, friend Davis," said the happy 
 mother. 
 
 "What is thee doing here, Edward?" 
 asked the old man, smiling grimly. 
 "Does thee bring Mr. Washington's terms 
 of surrender?" 
 
 "No," answered Towneshend, good 
 humoredly, "but General Washington is 
 at any time willing to submit terms of 
 surrender to Sir William Howe." 
 
 "Is that so, Edward? Does thee know 
 it to be so?" said Davis, eagerly. 
 76
 
 A CONTINENTAL DEAGOON 
 
 "I would stake my life on it," 
 answered the young officer. 
 
 "What is this, Ned?" questioned 
 Pamela, almost harshly, not noticing the 
 twinkle in her brother's eye. 
 
 "This is great news thee brings," went 
 on the Quaker, "and what are the terms?" 
 
 "I think the General would grant Sir 
 William the same terms he gave General 
 Rail at Trenton," said Towneshend. 
 
 "What does thee mean?" asked Davis 
 sharply, his face coloring. 
 
 "I mean that nothing but the complete 
 capitulation of Sir William and his army 
 would satisfy the Commander -in-Chief," 
 declared the young man, while Pamela 
 and Cynthia both clapped their hands. 
 
 "Art thou mad, boy?" said the old 
 man, knitting his ragged brows. 
 
 "On the contrary," answered Towne- 
 shend, "it is only a question of time. 
 You had better come over to us before it's 
 too late," he added. 
 
 "Never! "said Davis, and his firm old 
 mouth drew tense and hard. 
 
 "Well, dear old friend," said the boy, 
 seeing that he had gone a little beyond the 
 77
 
 D'ARCY of the GUAKDS 
 
 jesting bounds, "we won't quarrel at this 
 late day over a difference of opinion." 
 
 "You'll live to accept mine, " rejoined 
 the Quaker. 
 
 "I trust not," answered Towneshend, 
 gravely. "But you have been too good 
 to me and mine for me ever to forget it. " 
 
 "Oh, rubbish!" ejaculated the old man, 
 uncomfortably. 
 
 "And now, dear ones, " said the young 
 man, glancing at his watch, "I must get 
 to horse. I Ve a long journey before me. 
 I know you'll watch over them for me, 
 Mr. Davis." 
 
 "I promise thee, lad, I promise thee," 
 said the other, grasping his hand. 
 
 They made the parting a gay one, while 
 their voices gave the lie to the words of 
 glad good-bye. And then he was gone, 
 his tall young figure disappearing through 
 the gateway, and the clatter of his horse's 
 hoofs striking at the hearts of the dear 
 ones he left. 
 
 78
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 A FRIEND INDEED 
 
 The little group sat silent, till Davis, 
 thinking to relieve the tension, and in 
 some small way detract attention from his 
 own emotion, ejaculated: 
 
 "Drat the boy! I could stand it, if he 
 were fighting on the other side." 
 
 His diversion was a success, for Pamela 
 turned on him. "He is fighting for the 
 right." 
 
 "Woman's rubbish," said the old 
 Quaker, testily. "I am glad his father 
 can't see him in that uniform." 
 
 "His father would have been as proud 
 of him as I am, friend Davis, " answered 
 Mrs. Towneshend, with a gentle dig- 
 nity. 
 
 "No good can come of rebellion against 
 our rulers," said the old man. 
 
 "We are no longer rebels, Mr. Davis," 
 interrupted Cynthia, "we have claimed 
 freedom for our own." 
 79
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 "Aye, claimed it," said Davis, taking a 
 pinch of snuff and smiling at her. He 
 had succeeded more wisely than he had 
 planned. His three gentle friends were 
 up in arms at his Toryism, and for a 
 moment the pain at parting from their 
 boy was stopped. Mrs. Towneshend had 
 risen and started slowly toward the house, 
 the others following. At the steps, Pamela 
 turned to him with her frank smile, and 
 put out her hand ; and he knew he was 
 forgiven. The stiff, unbending old man 
 liked these reconciliations with the girl 
 whom he loved as a daughter. 
 
 "You must take lunch with us, Mr. 
 Davis," she said. 
 
 "Not for the world, my dear. I have a 
 thousand businesses to attend. There is 
 no offense at my words, Mrs. Towne- 
 shend?" he asked of the old lady, who 
 stood on the steps above. 
 
 "None," she smiled sweetly, "old 
 friends have privilege of free speech." 
 
 "Thee knows I love the boy," said the 
 old Quaker, heartily. 
 
 "I do," she said, and turned once more 
 to the house. 
 
 80
 
 A FKIEND INDEED 
 
 "I want to speak with thee and Cynthia 
 a moment, ' ' whispered Davis to Pamela, as 
 she moved off. 
 
 "I'll be in in a moment, mother dear," 
 called Pamela, as her mother entered the 
 house. "What is it?" she asked, turning 
 to him. "Can Cynthia or I do anything 
 for you?" 
 
 "Not for me, Pamela, but for thy- 
 selves." 
 
 "What is it?" questioned Cynthia, 
 while her cousin looked at him with a 
 vagrue fear in her eves. 
 
 w 
 
 "I greatly fear that the British will 
 take possession of thy house," said the old 
 man, deliberately. 
 
 "Take possession of our house!" cried 
 Pamela. "What do you mean?" 
 
 "They will probably use it for quarter- 
 ing some new officers," said Davis. "I 
 didn't wish to alarm thy mother; but the 
 house is so conveniently situated that it 
 will hardly escape requisition." 
 
 "What shall we do, Pamela?" ques- 
 tioned Cynthia, timidly. 
 
 "We shall not move one inch, ' ' answered 
 her cousin, and her lithe, strong figure 
 81
 
 D'AKCY of the GUARDS 
 
 seemed to harden, as if in opposition to an 
 attacking British regiment. 
 
 "I hardly see any alternative, my 
 dear," said the old man, kindly. "My 
 house is at thy disposal though, for as a 
 loyalist, I shall not be interfered with. ' ' 
 
 "I thank you, Mr. Davis, for your 
 kindness," said the girl, "but we shall 
 stay here till we are driven out. And 
 surely, Sir William Howe and My Lord 
 Cornwallis would not stoop to that?' ' 
 
 "They will not drive thee out, but 
 doubtless some officers will be quartered 
 here," rejoined Davis. 
 
 "So be it," answered Pamela, "there 
 is ample room for a whole company of 
 officers, and us besides." 
 
 "Do listen to Mr. Davis, Pamela," 
 interrupted Cynthia, timidly. "We are 
 quite alone and helpless." 
 
 "We will stay," rejoined Pamela, 
 firmly, and then, with a smile: "But why 
 worry about a thing till it happens? The 
 desirability of our lodgings may be entirely 
 overlooked. " 
 
 "Well, I'm content if Pamela is," said 
 Cynthia, resignedly. 
 82
 
 A FKIEND INDEED 
 
 "Thou art a self-willed young hussy," 
 said the Quaker, taking snuff violently. 
 
 "Please don't call me names," said 
 Pamela, going to him contritely, "we 
 are quite safe here, and mother is 
 really not well enough to stand any 
 change." 
 
 "Don't mind my growling, Pamela,*'' 
 he answered. "I am only concerned for 
 thy welfare. Thou art a brave lass." 
 
 Their talk had been so animated and of 
 such interest to them all, that it was little 
 wonder no one of them had heard the 
 click of the gate, at the far end of the 
 gardens ; nor were they aware of the ap- 
 proach of the two soldiers, till the clank of 
 sabers and spurs wheeled all three around 
 in surprise. The intruders were for- 
 eigners; their fierce, black, upturned 
 mustachios and gaudy uniforms pro- 
 claimed them Hessians at a glance. They 
 came on with an offensive swagger, the 
 moment they saw they were under notice. 
 As they drew near, the evident senior 
 addressed himself to Davis in harsh, 
 broken English, that was barely intelligible 
 to the listeners.
 
 D'AKCY of the GUARDS 
 
 "Are you the rebel owner of this 
 house?" he asked. 
 
 "I am neither the owner of this house, 
 nor am I a rebel," answered the old man, 
 quietly. 
 
 "You can't escape us, old shoebuckles, 
 by denying your colors," said the other, 
 coarsely. 
 
 "That he can't," said the first. "And 
 do these pretty maids belong with the 
 house?" His eyes ran the girls over, as if 
 he were appraising sheep. They drew 
 closer together, but their stare was so 
 haughty and direct that he dropped his 
 eyes and laughed uneasily. 
 
 "Coy, are you? We'll change all that 
 before long, eh, Millhausen?" he said, 
 turning to his companion. 
 
 "That will we, Captain," answered the 
 other. "The spoils of war, eh?" 
 
 Their vulgarity was so brutal, and 
 the surprise of their appearance so 
 sudden, that the little group was 
 dazed. 
 
 "Come, old man, we shall want all your 
 keys. I trust your cellars are in good 
 condition," said the Captain, and then 
 84
 
 A FRIEND INDEED 
 
 turning to Millhausen, "There'll be room 
 for four of us here." 
 
 "I am in charge of this house," said 
 Pamela, stepping a trifle forward. 
 
 "You, pretty one?" ejaculated the Cap- 
 tain. "So much the better." 
 
 She paid no notice to his insolence, but 
 there was that in her eyes that spoke to 
 them more plainly than stinging words. 
 
 "By what authority do you force your- 
 self on our hospitality?" she asked. 
 
 "You use big words, my maid," said 
 one. 
 
 "By the authority of our strong right 
 arms. You are ours," said the other, 
 brutally. 
 
 "I shall report your insolence to Sir 
 William Howe, and he will have you 
 publicly whipped." 
 
 "Ha, my little wildcat," cried Millhau- 
 sen, "I see we shall have to tame you." 
 
 "That we shall," laughed the Captain. 
 
 He made a step toward her, and Pamela 
 involuntarily shrank back, the utter loath- 
 ing she felt for the creatures, showing in 
 physical retreat. Davis, who had stood 
 calmly looking on during this colloquy, 
 85
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 stepped in front of the girls, his massive 
 figure almost screening them from view. 
 
 "Out of the way, you old fool," cried 
 the Hessian, exasperated by the imper- 
 turbability of the placid Friend. 
 
 "I said I was not the owner of this 
 house," said Davis, "but I am in a cer- 
 tain way the guardian of its inmates. 
 Pamela," he said, "thee had better go 
 into the house with Cynthia. I will talk 
 with these gentlemen." 
 
 "Stand aside," yelled Millhausen, his 
 face inflamed with anger. He rushed at 
 Davis, thinking to sweep by him, through 
 mere force, but it was like charging a 
 stone wall. The old man threw him back, 
 and nearly off his feet. The girls seemed 
 paralyzed with fear, and stood motionless. 
 The other officer had stepped quickly 
 behind them, and placed himself in front 
 of the door. 
 
 "Thee had better let the young women 
 pass," said Davis, turning to him. 
 
 "I'll spit you like a chicken," cried the 
 infuriated man, whom he had thrown off. 
 
 "For heaven's sake, Mr. Davis, give 
 way," cried Pamela, fearfully.
 
 A FRIEND INDEED 
 
 "If thee doesn't put up thy sword, I'll 
 take it from thee," replied the Quaker. 
 The red was mounting to his cheeks, and 
 his fingers gripped the heavy stick he 
 carried, as in a vice. 
 
 "Curse his insolence; run the rebel 
 through!" yelled the one at the door. 
 No such encouragement was needed. 
 With an oath on his lips, he drew his saber 
 and sprang at the old man. The big cane 
 swung dexterously through the air, there 
 was a smash on the villain's sword-arm, 
 and his blade flew in the air. 
 
 "Damn you!" he screamed in an agony, 
 clasping his arm that hung limp; and 
 then he yelled to his companion: "Kill 
 him, Raab!" 
 
 "Thee had better hold thy distance," 
 said Davis, keeping them well in his 
 front. 
 
 "I'll teach you!" roared the man, and 
 was rushing for him venomously, when a 
 loud "halloa" from the garden gate 
 arrested him. All turned, and hurrying 
 toward them were two in the gayest scar- 
 let. The younger man as they approached 
 doffed his hat with a gallant ah*, and tak- 
 87
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 ing in the situation with laughing eyes, 
 addressed himself to Pamela : 
 
 "I trust you will pardon this intrusion, 
 ladies. Captain Gregory and I have evi- 
 dently interrupted your friends' morning 
 broadsword exercise." 
 
 The brogue was none but D'Arcy's. 
 
 "You have interrupted two villains in 
 an infamous attack on an unarmed old 
 man and two defenseless girls," cried 
 Pamela, stepping forward, her cheeks and 
 eyes ablaze, her breast heaving with heavy 
 anger. 
 
 "And is it so, my dear young lady?" 
 asked D'Arcy, gently; he turned and ran 
 a cold, insolent eye up and down the 
 Hessian officers, and then, with a con- 
 tempt that even they could feel, he re- 
 marked: "Faith, handsome does as 
 handsome is; and they're not much on 
 looks, are they, Greg?" He appealed to 
 his friend, who was fidgeting about, know- 
 ing only too well what that mocking voice 
 meant. 
 
 "For heaven's sake, Jack," he whis- 
 pered, "don't pick a quarrel." 
 
 "Hist, man," answered D'Arcy, aloud,
 
 A FRIEND INDEED 
 
 "they don't want to fight, they only want 
 to bully old men and ladies." 
 
 "Who the devil are you?" said Millhau- 
 sen, furiously. 
 
 "Major D'Arcy, Grenadier Guards," 
 answered the Irishman, "and I'll thank 
 you for just a trifle more of civility," he 
 added, coldly. 
 
 "You be " the German was putting 
 
 in gruffly, when D'Arcy interrupted: 
 
 "Tnt tut, man. Before ladies!" He 
 turned to them courteously ; his deference 
 was beautiful to behold. "May I beg of 
 you to withdraw? These " he hesitated, 
 that his words might reach the proper 
 ears "these officers are evidently not 
 accustomed to the presence of your 
 sex." 
 
 "It is a pity that His Majesty is forced 
 to require such unpresentable allies, "said 
 Pamela, cuttingly. 
 
 "Madam," answered the young officer, 
 bowing very low, "I heartily agree with 
 
 you." 
 
 The girls swept him a courtesy, and 
 disappeared into the house. 
 
 "Damn your impudence!" said the 
 89
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 senior of the Hessians. "You shall 
 answer to us for this." 
 
 Davis, who ever since the Grena- 
 dier's appearance had watched his gal- 
 lant figure, and listened in amazement 
 and with a sort of fascination to his 
 remarks, now stepped forward. "I beg of 
 you, gentlemen, that this shall go no 
 further." 
 
 "I don't know your name, old Mr. 
 Drab-clothes," said D'Arcy, with an 
 amused smile, "but you've had your 
 fun, and I won't be done out of mine. 
 I never permit insolence from mus- 
 tachios," he added, turning to the Ger- 
 mans. 
 
 "For God's sake, Jack, what will the 
 General say?" interrupted Gregory, in a 
 frenzy at the young Irishman's indiscre- 
 tion. 
 
 "My seconds will call upon you 
 to-day," cried the Captain. 
 
 "And mine," said Millhausen. 
 "Where are you quartered?" 
 
 "My friend Captain Gregory will make 
 all arrangements for me. We shall be 
 quartered here. Good morning." And 
 00
 
 A FKIEND INDEED 
 
 turning on his heel, he engaged in conver- 
 sation with Gregory and Davis, while the 
 Hessians stamped furiously out of the 
 gardens. 
 
 91

 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 UNWELCOME GUESTS 
 
 "A pretty mess," growled Gregory, as 
 they disappeared. 
 
 "I pray thee, sir, to reconsider this," 
 said old Davis. 
 
 "Tut, sir," answered D'Arcy. "I 
 won't hurt 'em; only teach 'em good 
 manners. " 
 
 "Did I understand thee to say that thee 
 and thy friend would be quartered here?" 
 asked the Quaker, anxiety for the girls 
 getting the better of his desire to stop a 
 duel. 
 
 "Yes," replied the Irishman r "and yery 
 fair quarters they are, too," he added, 
 looking up at the house. 
 
 "I trust we will not incommode the 
 ladies," said Gregory. 
 
 "It is that, that I would speak about," 
 
 answered the old man. "Mrs. Towne- 
 
 shend and her daughter and niece are quite 
 
 alone here. Mrs. Towneshend is an 
 
 93
 
 D'ARCY of the GUAEDS 
 
 invalid, and the occupation of her house, 
 I fear, would distress her exceedingly. ' 
 
 "You don't think we would hurt the 
 women?" replied Gregory. " We're not 
 Hessians." 
 
 "My house, sirs, not a quarter of a mile 
 away, is quite at your disposal," said 
 Davis. 
 
 "It is already occupied, my good sir," 
 D'Arcy answered. 
 
 "Occupied!" cried the Quaker, in dis- 
 may. "But I am a loyalist." 
 
 "Then you'll be overjoyed to hear that 
 Lord Cornwallis has his headquarters 
 there," laughed Gregory. 
 
 "My dear sir," said D'Arcy, kindly, 
 feeling for the old man's discomfiture, "I 
 like the way you handled those rascally 
 Dutchmen. Your friends will be much 
 safer with us in the house, than on the 
 outside. We will serve to keep such 
 vermin out, and shall be very little trouble. 
 Two bedrooms and a living room are all 
 we require." 
 
 "I thank thee, sir, for thy considera- 
 tion," answered Davis. "I will go in and 
 tell them." 
 
 94
 
 UNWELCOME GUESTS 
 
 "A militant Quaker," Gregory re- 
 marked a moment later, as the tall gray 
 figure entered the house. 
 
 "Don't talk to me of Quakers," cried 
 Jack. "It's she, I'm thinking of. Greg, 
 me boy, she's a duchess in disguise." 
 
 "Who is a duchess in disguise?" asked 
 the doctor, blankly. 
 
 "Oh, ye lump of ice! You're as luke- 
 warm as weak tea!" rejoined the Irish- 
 man. "Didn't you notice the dark girl 
 with the grand manner and the foot like a 
 fairy?" 
 
 "And the tongue like a rapier?" ques- 
 tioned Gregory, laughing. 
 
 "Sure, you're an ungallant lout, Greg, 
 like the rest of your countrymen. My 
 lady has the gift of language and uses it," 
 said D'Arcy. 
 
 "She must be Irish," answered Greg- 
 ory. 
 
 "Faith, I can account for her in no 
 other way," the young officer replied 
 quickly. 
 
 "Oh, well," the doctor said, "no 
 philandering, Jack." 
 
 "You're vulgar, Captain Gregory." 
 95
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 "I wish to the devil you had not 
 quarreled with those fellows," the other 
 put in, worried at the prospect. 
 
 "Don't bother, Greg. They're as 
 clumsy as Englishmen, and I won't hurt 
 'em." 
 
 "If it comes to Lord Cornwallis' ears 
 you'll be broke. He's expressly forbidden 
 dueling." 
 
 "But you must see that no word of it 
 gets out, me boy. That is, if you don't 
 want to see me gazetted home again," said 
 D'Arcy, gaily. 
 
 "You don't seem to realize that being 
 on the staff, demands discretion," said 
 Gregory, angrily. 
 
 "There's no such word in Irish," 
 D'Arcy laughed. 
 
 "Lord D'Arcy would never see you, if 
 you disgraced yourself again." 
 
 "He wouldn't recognize me as a son of 
 his, if I didn't," answered the young officer 
 in huge spirits. 
 
 "Well, I refuse to act as your second," 
 rejoined Gregory, now thoroughly out of 
 humor. 
 
 The young grenadier always knew when 
 . 96
 
 UNWELCOME GUESTS 
 
 he had pressed the touchy old doctor 
 beyond the limit, and immediately began 
 to wheedle, throwing an arm affectionately 
 about his shoulders. 
 
 "Now, Greg, dear, you're behaving 
 unhandsomely. I've had only three fights 
 since we landed," he coaxed. 
 
 "And each time you swore to me would 
 be the last," answered Gregory, unre- 
 lenting. 
 
 "And I kept my oath," asserted 
 D'Arcy. 
 
 "You kept your oath!" ejaculated the 
 doctor, in disgust. 
 
 "Each time was the last time" pleaded 
 his friend, disingenuously. " Come, 
 Greg," he went on, "just this once. You 
 wouldn't have the Dutch beggars laugh- 
 ing at the Guards?" 
 
 Gregory wavered. "You'll not hurt 
 'em?" he asked. 
 
 " 'Pon me honor, Greg, I'll only disarm 
 'em." 
 
 "Jack D'Arcy, you'll ruin me along 
 
 with yourself," said the old man, testily, 
 
 annoyed at himself. "You wouldn't have 
 
 bothered your head about the rascals, if it 
 
 97
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 hadn't been for the little rebel wench 
 inside." 
 
 "Greg, she's a lady, rebel or no rebel, 
 and no gentleman could stand by and see 
 her insulted." 
 
 "You'll have your hands full, if you're 
 going to protect every little Colonial who 
 has a neat ankle and a kissing mouth," 
 said Gregory, drily. 
 
 "I'll take it unkindly, Greg, if you 
 make any more disparaging remarks about 
 the Duchess." 
 
 "Have it your own way," and the old 
 doctor laughed. 
 
 "You'll second me?" asked D'Arcy, 
 sure of his answer. 
 
 "I will. Have I ever refused?" 
 
 "No. You're a jewel," said the young 
 Irishman. "And now scatter yourself 
 and look after our baggage. I'll go 
 in and arrange matters with our host- 
 ess." 
 
 Gregory was departing on his mission 
 when D'Arcy called after, "Hurry back. 
 I'm in the hands of the enemy. " At that 
 moment Pamela appeared in the doorway. 
 The young man heard the opening door,
 
 UNWELCOME GUESTS 
 
 and turned to her with his hat in his hand 
 as she came toward him. 
 
 "We have to thank yon, Major D'Arcy, 
 for your very timely interference in our 
 behalf," she said. There was no sign in 
 her face that she had overheard his call to 
 Gregory, and the young officer thought he 
 had never seen so lovely a thing in his life 
 as the tall girl, standing on the steps, 
 looking down on him coldly, and with a 
 certain condescension that seemed to him 
 fitting. 
 
 "/ should speak of gratitude, Miss 
 Towneshend, in being permitted in any 
 way to serve you, " he said, gravely. 
 
 "Mr. Davis tells me that you and your 
 companion have chosen our house for your 
 lodging," went on Pamela, ignoring his 
 last remark. 
 
 "The fortunes of war, Miss Towne 
 shend, throw us upon your bounty." He 
 was determined to place the matter in its 
 best light, but it was difficult to make way 
 against the self -possess ion and imperturba- 
 bility of the girl. 
 
 "The fortunes of war make us unwill- 
 ing hosts," she said. 
 99
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 " 'Tis only the order of my chief, Lord 
 Cornwallis, that forces your hospitality. 
 He has directed Captain Gregory and 
 myself to lodge here," answered D'Arcy, 
 feeling the absolute necessity of meeting 
 the hostile criticism that shone from those 
 gray eyes. 
 
 "I do not wish to seem ungracious nor 
 unmindful of your chivalrous defense of 
 my cousin and myself," said the girl, 
 feeling his sincerity, "but I cannot forget 
 that you are an enemy to my country. 
 Whatever you and Captain Gregory need 
 shall be freely given, but " she wavered 
 for a moment, and he could see her eyes 
 fill, "but I hate your being here," she 
 added, vehemently. 
 
 D'Arcy was touched, her tears brought 
 a feeling of debasement, of unmanliness, 
 that he should be the cause of her tor- 
 ment. 
 
 "Dear young lady," he said, quickly, 
 "you make me feel no better than one of 
 those rascally Hessians." 
 
 His eagerness brought a smile to her 
 lips. "Oh, you are better than they," 
 she said. 
 
 100
 
 "I thank you for the slightest com- 
 mendation, Miss Towneshend, though it 
 come from the most odious comparison," 
 answered D'Arcy. 
 
 "We judge a man by his friends; a sol- 
 dier by his allies, " said Pamela. 
 
 "I never thought of that," he replied, 
 "and you're quite right." 
 
 ""We should be thankful that they are 
 not to be our guests," said she. 
 
 "I shall twist that into a half welcome, 
 at least." 
 
 "God forbid, that British uniforms 
 should have even a half-welcome in our 
 house," Pamela answered, earnestly. 
 
 "I was never before tempted to desert 
 my colors," said D'Arcy, gallantly; but 
 pretty speeches, he felt, were unheeded 
 by that straightforward, dominating 
 creature, who so turned the tables, 
 that she made him feel like the vul- 
 garest intruder, instead of a conquering 
 hero. 
 
 They were interrupted by the reappear- 
 ance of Gregory, whom D'Arcy presented 
 immediately. 
 
 "I will show you the house, gentle- 
 101
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 men," she said, simply, "and you may 
 choose your chambers." 
 
 "We follow, Miss Towneshend," 
 answered D'Arcy. 
 
 She passed on ahead through the door- 
 way. At the top of the steps, D'Arcy 
 stopped his companion and ejaculated, 
 "Greg, me boy, I was mistaken, she's not 
 a duchess in disguise." 
 
 "What!" laughed Gregory, "so soon 
 disillusioned? Is she more like a cham- 
 ber wench?" 
 
 "Hush, man, you blaspheme," answered 
 the young officer. "She's every inch a 
 queen!" 
 
 102
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE CONQUERORS 
 
 The rebel capital bent its head meekly, 
 not to say graciously, to the yoke of the 
 conquerors. There was a brief moment of 
 suspense and hope, when Washington came 
 battering at the gates, one October morn- 
 ing, but the cartloads of wounded 
 trundled through the streets, from Ger- 
 mantown, later in the day, showed that his 
 plans had gone awry, and the little town 
 settled down with no very ill grace, it 
 must be said, to enjoy its captivity. 
 
 The weeks passed, drifting slowly into 
 months, and the Doctor and D'Arcy, who, 
 with many another besides, fretted at the 
 enforced idleness, found some compensa- 
 tion in the comfort of their lodgings. 
 The little affair with the Hessian officers 
 went off very comically, and was the occa- 
 sion of many a witty sally at the expense 
 of D'Arcy always behind his back, it 
 must be said. They had met early one 
 103
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 morning in a secluded corner of the town, 
 and the two bullies had been taught a 
 lesson in swordsmanship, that was like to 
 last them the rest of their careers. The 
 Guards' mess laughed heartily over the 
 matter, and one night at a regimental 
 supper, at "The Indian Queen," young 
 Captain Dacier ventured to chaff the 
 Major about "the beauteous Miss Towne- 
 shend." He was saved by his friends, 
 however, who drew him off quickly, at the 
 sight of D'Arcy's peculiar little smile, 
 which most of them knew so well meant 
 trouble. 
 
 As for "the beauteous Miss Towne- 
 shend" herself, she tried valiantly to make 
 the best of circumstances that filled her 
 with chagrin. She bitterly resented the fes- 
 tive and gala air about the town ; she would 
 have drunk the health of King George 
 as quickly as she would have attended 
 one of the gay, brilliant assemblies at the 
 "City Tavern," or made one of the jolly, 
 thoughtless little audiences at the theater 
 in South street. She would have consid- 
 ered herself false to every patriotic ideal, if 
 in any way she had condoned the presence 
 104
 
 The CONQUERORS 
 
 of the invaders, for whom she had a bitter, 
 rankling hatred. 
 
 It concentrated on the two representa- 
 tives whose red-coats flitted in and out 
 of her house; and though their meetings 
 were of the rarest, yet it was impossi- 
 ble not, at times, to come in contact 
 with them ; particularly as the only outlet 
 from their apartments was through her 
 favorite part of the house : the book room. 
 There, on occasion, when her calculation 
 as to their absence or time of return went 
 amiss, they surprised her, and it became a- 
 matter of constant and eager speculation 
 on D'Arcy's part, how often, during a 
 week, he might hope to catch a glimpse of 
 the tall, dark girl, whose very indifference 
 was beginning to mean more to him than 
 the smiles of any other woman ever had. 
 
 The preciousness of these chance meet- 
 ings, though they profited him nothing 
 more than a cold curtsy, or at best, the 
 briefest of desultory talk, was tremen- 
 dously augmented in the eyes of the 
 young Irishman, by the fact that they 
 were possible nowhere else. He had com- 
 menced going to the public assemblies 
 105
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 and the private routs, with an eagerness of 
 anticipation that he was sadly conscious 
 of, only when he found that she never 
 appeared. And the result was, that he 
 became less and less a participator in the 
 gaieties of his fellow officers; spending 
 what time he had from his duties riding 
 about the country by day, and at night, 
 for the most time, playing sedately at 
 piquet, with some older officer; while he 
 developed a crotchety moodiness that was 
 near driving Gregory frantic. 
 
 The old man watched over him solicit- 
 ously, and during his absences puffed 
 solemnly at his pipe for hours, in anxious 
 cogitation as to the youngster's malady. 
 Though he said little, his keen watchful- 
 ness worried D'Arcy almost to frenzy. He 
 didn't want to be bothered; he wanted to 
 nurse the deadly, hopeless feeling within 
 him, by himself. He knew Gregory would 
 never suspect the real trouble, and he 
 dreaded the time when he should have to 
 tell him; for he knew his old friend's lov- 
 ing inquisitiveness would force it from 
 him sooner or later. 
 
 It came rather sooner than he expected. 
 100
 
 The CONQUERORS 
 
 It was one night, late. Gregory had a 
 habit of slipping downstairs, in his dress- 
 ing-gown, and smoking before the huge 
 fire, till D'Arcy came in. He had asked 
 and obtained permission from Pamela for 
 his indulgence neither of the men pre- 
 sumed an iota on their peculiar position in 
 the house, and strove by every means in 
 their power to establish the high standard 
 of host and guest and it was one of the 
 pleasantest hours of the day to the old 
 man, when the little household was long 
 abed, and he sat smoking, with the de- 
 canter not too far away from his reach, 
 and his slippered feet toasting on the 
 fender. He was well through his fourth 
 pipe this special night, before Jack put in 
 an appearance, and it was an unsatisfac- 
 tory one to his old friend. Discontent sat 
 heavily on his face, and throwing off his 
 cloak, he flung himself moodily into a 
 chair. 
 
 "What is it, Jack?" asked Gregory. 
 
 "Oh, nothing's the matter ; don't bother 
 a fellow." 
 
 "Jack, I believe you're not well." 
 
 "Oh, you want to physic me," answered 
 107
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 D'Arcy. "Well, I'm not well," he went 
 on. 
 
 "What is it?" asked Gregory, eagerly, 
 sitting up. v 
 
 "I have some trouble here," answered 
 Jack, and he put his hand over his heart. 
 
 "Your heart?" ejaculated the doctor, 
 his professional interest aroused, and 
 blinding him to the gay twinkle that had 
 come into D 'Arcy's eyes. 
 
 "Where it ought to be," the Major 
 replied. 
 
 "Nonsense," said Gregory. "You're 
 as sound as a horse." 
 
 "Well, I ought to know," said D'Arcy. 
 
 "Tell me about it. What are your 
 symptoms?" asked the old man, leaning 
 forward, his brows screwed together 
 critically. 
 
 "Greg, my appetite seems to be disap- 
 pearing, and I'm losing interest in every- 
 thing." 
 
 "I've noticed it," nodded the doctor, 
 gravely. 
 
 "And whenever I see or think of a cer- 
 tain person," went on D'Arcy, "I have a 
 tremendous palpitation in my heart." 
 108
 
 "Jack D'Arcy, are you going mad?" 
 cried Gregory, sitting up very straight, 
 and staring. 
 
 ' ' Maybe it 's the same thing, Greg. I'm 
 in love. ' ' It came out very gently, with 
 a low laugh, and he felt as if he had 
 dropped a burden the moment his secret 
 had slipped through his lips. 
 
 "Well, I'll be damned!" ejaculated 
 Gregory, and then he burst forth angrily. 
 "Do you mean to say that you've worked 
 me up to operation pitch with nothing but 
 a tale of lovesickness?" 
 
 "You seem to think it's nothing seri- 
 ous," rejoined D'Arcy, hiding his mer- 
 riment by a violent assault on the 
 smoldering logs. 
 
 "What if it is serious?" said Gregory. 
 "You don't suppose I keep love draughts 
 on tap, do you?" 
 
 "You're unkind to me, Greg," said 
 the Irishman, "you have no sentiment." 
 
 Gregory puffed contemptuously for a 
 moment. "Who is it this time?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "I resent your 'this time,' Captain 
 Gregory," answered D'Arcy, with pre- 
 109
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 tense of the offended. "You know bet- 
 ter than any one," he added, "that 
 I wasn't serious the last time with 
 Lady Gray, or the time before that with 
 Mrs. Germaine, or even with Lady Betty 
 Kew." 
 
 "Oh, Jack, you'll be the death of me," 
 roared Gregory. 
 
 "Faith, I should like to be," said Jack. 
 "You've no more sympathy for the tender 
 passion than a stone." 
 
 "My sympathies are broad, Jack," said 
 the doctor, still laughing till the tears 
 ran, "but I've never been able to cover 
 your tender passions." 
 
 "You're mightily amused at my ex- 
 pense," said D'Arcy, a bit ruffled at the 
 other's continued amusement. 
 
 "Who is it, Jack?" gasped the old 
 man, between gurgles. 
 
 "I'll not call upon you to stretch your 
 elastic sympathy any further, Captain 
 Gregory," replied D'Arcy. 
 
 "Now, Jack, you know I was but teas- 
 ing," coaxed Gregory. 
 
 "You'll not breathe it to a soul?" 
 
 "J swear not." 
 
 UP
 
 TJie CONQUERORS 
 
 "It's the Duchess," whispered D'Arcy, 
 as if the room held a company full. 
 
 "The Duchess?" questioned Gregory, 
 mystified. 
 
 "Pamela," said D'Arcy. 
 
 "Pamela? You don't mean Miss 
 Towneshend?" cried the doctor, and the 
 mystery of weeks was flooded with 
 light. 
 
 "Yes," answered the young Irishman, 
 "the loveliest creature that ever tripped 
 minuet, or killed with the glance of gray 
 eyes. She was born under the aegis of 
 divine Diana, and all the goddess' gifts 
 have been showered on her," rhapsodized 
 D'Arcy; then breaking off and jumping to 
 his feet he exclaimed: "Oh, Greg, why 
 haven't you heart enough to know what 
 I'm talking about?" 
 
 "Too much heart addles the brains," 
 said the old man, sententiously. 
 
 "Pah! Your blood runs icy cold," 
 rejoined the Major. "Come up to bed, 
 it's past one," he said, taking up his 
 candle and leading the way. Gregory 
 followed after, rather dazed at an 
 earnestness in his young friend's man.- 
 
 m
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 ner, that was unaccustomed, but re- 
 lieved withal that there was no physical 
 or mental derangement in his pro- 
 tege. 
 
 113
 
 CHAPTEK X 
 
 CORRESPONDENCE 
 
 A freezing December was drawing to- 
 wards its end, and there was bitter 
 vaticination in the shrewd and piercing 
 air, for the devoted little American army 
 scattered on the hills about Valley Forge. 
 Young Captain Towneshend had managed 
 once to get through the lines, shortly after 
 the battle of Germantown, and at long 
 intervals they seemed eternities to 
 Cynthia hastily scribbled communica- 
 tions arrived at the Towneshend house, 
 and were devoured by the three anxious 
 women. The strain told perceptibly on 
 the old lady, and Pamela was heartsick at 
 her mother's worried, pitiable condition. 
 She appealed hurriedly to Gregory one 
 night, when her mother appeared to be in 
 a dangerous state, and the old doctor 
 worked wonders, and continued to watch 
 over her till she was quite on the mend. 
 He managed to break through the barrier 
 113
 
 D'AECY of the GUAKDS 
 
 of distrust, too, that the girls defended so 
 zealously against every approach, and the 
 gentle Cynthia even went so far as to 
 conclude that D'Arcy might have a few 
 redeeming attributes. 
 
 Venturing to suggest it one morning, as 
 they stood shivering over the big fire in 
 the book -room (they had just come in 
 from a brisk walk, with noses red and 
 blood a-tingle), Pamela broke out im- 
 patiently: "Oh, when are we to be rid of 
 that insufferable Irish dandy?" 
 
 "We might change lodgers and fare 
 worse," rejoined Cynthia, stoutly. 
 
 "I can hardly conceive of it," answered 
 Pamela, smothering a yawn in her huge 
 muff. 
 
 "You evidently forget the Hessians." 
 
 Pamela's shoulders rose in a shrug of 
 disgust. "Ugh! Don't mention those 
 creatures," she said. 
 
 ' 'And yet it was the Irish dandy that 
 saved us from them," went on the devil's 
 advocate, "and at peril of his life too." 
 
 "Pshaw!" said Pamela, tapping the 
 fender impatiently. 
 
 "You are unkind, Pamela," Cynthia 
 U4
 
 COKKESPONDENCE 
 
 pursued. "Didn't he fight both of those 
 horrible men?" 
 
 "Oh, that was nothing; any man would 
 have done the same. And he wasn't 
 hurt," added Pamela, perversity holding 
 her tight. 
 
 "No, but they were, and he came very 
 near being court-martialed, as Mr. Davis 
 told us." Cynthia was growing bold in 
 her championship. Pamela laughingly 
 drew her close and took her chin in her 
 hand. "You dear little coz, are you 
 going over to the enemy?" she asked, 
 looking deep in the blue eyes. 
 
 "No, but I believe in giving the devil 
 his due." 
 
 "Don't worry about the devil, dear, he 
 will take care of his own." 
 
 "They have been very kind and con- 
 siderate," said Cynthia, bound to make 
 her point. "And Captain Gregory has 
 helped Aunt Clarissa a great deal." 
 
 "I don't object to the doctor, his pro- 
 fession is a merciful one," Pamela replied, 
 "but that coxcomb, Major D'Arcy, with 
 his fine London airs, and his redcoats, 
 drives me to a frenzy. And that 
 115
 
 D'AECY of the GUAEDS 
 
 brogue!" she added, comically patting 
 her fingers to her ears. "Oh, that 
 brogue!" 
 
 Cynthia had to laugh. "It should 
 plead for him," she cried, merrily. 
 "It 'snot English." 
 
 "No, but it's British, "rejoined Pamela. 
 
 "You're relentless." 
 
 "As long as we are prisoners," Pamela 
 said, firmly. 
 
 "Well, it won't last forever," assured 
 her cousin. 
 
 "The day they evacuate the city, I shall 
 begin to like them; when they sail for 
 England I shall adore them," answered 
 Pamela. 
 
 "A fine way to love your enemies," 
 answered Cynthia. 
 
 "The most beautiful in the world, dear; 
 at a distance," said Pamela; and the 
 controversy dropped. 
 
 Strangely enough, the first of a curious 
 concatenation of small events that were 
 destined to modify somewhat Miss Towne- 
 shend's stringent opinion of the young 
 officer, took place not many moments after 
 the conversation just chronicled. They 
 116
 
 were still standing before the fire gazing 
 pensively at the leaping blaze, when a low 
 knock at the door, leading to what they 
 called their part of the house, roused them 
 from their r every. Tn answer to Pamela's 
 summons, the kinky head and black face of 
 Sambo was thrust cautiously in, and after 
 rolling his eyes mysteriously about the 
 room for a second, he tiptoed toward 
 them. 
 
 "A letter for you, Miss Pamela," said 
 the old darkey, mysteriously, and Pamela 
 reached for it with wonder in her eyes. 
 
 "It's from Ned, Cynthia!" she cried 
 joyfully, ripping the folded ends from 
 their pressure of wax. 
 
 "From Ned?" gasped Cynthia, spring- 
 ing to her side. 
 
 "Yes. Who left it, Sambo?" 
 
 "A farm-boy gave it to Cicely at the 
 gate, Miss Pamela, and went right off." 
 
 But Pamela heard not a word of the 
 explanation; her eyes were rapidly scan- 
 ning the letter's contents. 
 
 "What does he say, Pamela?" asked 
 Cynthia, in an ecstasy of suspense. 
 
 "All is well; he is coming," answered 
 117
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 Pamela, reading on swiftly. "You may 
 go, Sambo, Thank you." 
 
 "Is Massa Eddy well, Miss Pamela?" 
 ventured the old servitor. 
 
 "Yes, Sambo, very," and Sambo went 
 out thanking "the Lord" for the safe- 
 keeping of his dear young master. 
 
 The door had scarce clicked behind him 
 when Cynthia burst out: "Quick, dear 
 Pamela, read to me; it is cruel to keep 
 me in suspense." 
 
 The letter had evidently been written in 
 the greatest haste, and Pamela read 
 slowly: "Dearest Sis: I have just a 
 chance of getting word through to you. 
 I only write to say, that I hope to be witli 
 you as soon as this. I shall leave the camp 
 before daybreak to-morrow morning ' 
 
 "That's to-day," interrupted Cynthia, 
 eagerly. 
 
 "So it is," answered Pamela, glancing 
 at the date. 
 
 "Please read on. You are so slow," 
 said the impatient Cynthia. So im- 
 patient were they both, and so eagerly 
 interested, that neither of them heard the 
 door at their backs open. 
 118
 
 CORRESPONDENCE 
 
 "I shall leave the camp before daybreak 
 
 to-morrow morning, disguised as " 
 
 There was a cough behind them, and the 
 girls whirled to face the intruder, Pamela 
 crushing the note in her hand. 
 
 "I beg your pardon, ladies," said 
 Gregory, his old face a blank to the quick, 
 questioning scrutiny of Pamela, who 
 wondered, in a tremble, if he had heard. 
 
 "Good morning, Captain Gregory," she 
 said, quietly. 
 
 "Good morning to you, Miss Towne- 
 shend, and to you, Miss Deane," said the 
 old doctor. "I hope I don't intrude?" 
 
 "Oh, not at all," said Cynthia, flurried. 
 
 "We are hugging the fire, after our 
 walk," Pamela remarked. 
 
 "It's a bitter day, "said Gregory. "I 
 trust your mother is well this morning, " 
 he added. 
 
 "Very, thank you, doctor. We are 
 going to her now. Come, Cynthia." She 
 lifted her muff from a chair, and they 
 moved toward the door. 
 
 "I am driving you away." 
 
 "Oh, no, indeed; we were just going 
 when you entered," said Cynthia, smil- 
 119
 
 ing. As for Pamela, she could gather 
 nothing from Gregory's wrinkled phiz, 
 and she passed out of the room in a small 
 panic. 
 
 Her perturbation would have been 
 sensibly increased if she could have seen 
 the doctor, a moment later, stoop and pick 
 up the crumpled letter, which had slid 
 through her muff to the floor, at the very 
 instant of exit. 
 
 120
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 A PROPOSAL 
 
 Gregory smoothed out the wrinkled 
 paper, which had adjusted itself to its 
 original folds, and read the superscrip- 
 tion. The writing was strong and 
 masculine, and the old man had recourse 
 to his snuff-box several times, as with 
 speculative eyes he examined and re- 
 examined the quill strokes. The more he 
 pondered the less he could make out of it, 
 and he was glad when D'Arcy appeared a 
 few moments later. 
 
 "Not gone out yet, Greg?" he asked, 
 stepping to where the old man stood. 
 
 "No, I am trying to thaw out," 
 answered Gregory. "This is a devilish 
 cold climate." 
 
 "I believe these damned Americans 
 could make it warm enough for us if we 
 gave 'em a show." 
 
 "Well, they'll soon have the chance," 
 replied the doctor, referring to a secret 
 131
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 plan that was on foot, and which shall be 
 told of later. Then he added: "I saw 
 your divinity but a moment before you 
 came in." 
 
 "She was here?" asked D'Arcy eagerly, 
 turning from the fire. 
 
 "Yes," said the doctor, drily, "and 
 curiously occupied." 
 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 "She was reading what I judged to be a 
 love-letter," answered Gregory. 
 
 "A love-letter, man!" ejaculated 
 D'Arcy, for the moment losing his accus- 
 tomed poise. "How do you know? 
 Whom was she reading to?" 
 
 "As I entered the room," said the doc- 
 tor, "Miss Towneshend and her cousin 
 were standing where you stand, with their 
 backs to me. I happened to overhear 
 these words, which Miss Towneshend 
 read from a letter: 'I shall leave the 
 camp before daybreak to-morrow, disguised 
 as ' Then I thought it time to dis- 
 cover myself." 
 
 "That was all you heard?" asked the 
 Irishman, slowly. 
 
 "All," replied Gregory. 
 122
 
 A PEOPOSAL 
 
 There was silence for a moment, then 
 D'Arcy broke into an uneasy laugh. 
 "Ah, you're suspicious by nature, Greg, 
 like all Englishmen," he said. "The 
 note was to Miss Deane." 
 
 "I happen to know differently. Here 
 is the billet doux. Miss Towneshend 
 dropped it as she went out." 
 
 Gregory held it out, and D'Arcy 
 eagerly snatched it, reading the address 
 again and again, with a sort of fascination. 
 
 "And what did you hear, Gregg?" he 
 asked, finally. 
 
 "I heard Miss Towneshend read this 
 much," and Gregory repeated, "'I shall 
 leave camp before daybreak to-morrow 
 disguised as ' " 
 
 "And why the devil didn't you wait to 
 hear how the blackguard was going to 
 disguise himself?" cried D'Arcy. 
 
 "You hold the key to the mystery in 
 your hand," replied the doctor, quietly. 
 
 "Greg, I wouldn't have thought it of 
 you," said the other, reproachfully. 
 
 "But you would have had me eavesdrop 
 for your personal satisfaction," rejoined 
 Gregory. 
 
 123
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 "Forgive me, old man. I'm not my- 
 self," said the youngster, going to him. 
 "What do yon make of it?" he added, 
 holding the troublesome piece of paper out 
 at arm's length. 
 
 "Honest?" questioned Gregory, watch- 
 ing his friend narrowly. 
 
 "Honest," answered D'Arcy. 
 
 "I think," said the doctor, deliber- 
 ately formulating his opinion, even to 
 himself, for the first time. "I think 
 that the fair Miss Towneshend is 
 particularly interested in some one in 
 the rebel camp at Valley Forge, who 
 intends getting through the lines to pay 
 her a visit." 
 
 "Faith, the gentleman will never return 
 alive to Valley Forge if I clap eyes on 
 him," said the Major, with his peculiar 
 little smile. 
 
 "Well, he evidently hasn't arrived yet, 
 or they wouldn't have been reading his 
 letter so eagerly." 
 
 "You break my heart, Greg," cried 
 D'Arcy. "Was she really reading the 
 scoundrel's letter eagerly?" 
 
 "Not so very eagerly, Jack," said the 
 124
 
 A PROPOSAL 
 
 doctor, attempting to ameliorate the rigor 
 of his former remark. 
 
 "Thank you for that," answered Jack. 
 "You give me a crumb of comfort," and 
 he looked so dispirited that Gregory felt 
 for him. 
 
 "Brace yourself, Jack," he said. ""We 
 must improve that heart action, eh, lad?" 
 
 "Faint heart will never do, will it, 
 Greg?" said D'Arcy. 
 
 "Not for so fair a lady, Jack," and the 
 doctor clapped him on the shoulders, 
 buoyantly, and with an air of confidence 
 that was tremendously reassuring to his 
 companion, the complexion of whose vari- 
 able spirits was easily changed. 
 
 "Egad, Greg!" he cried, "you have a 
 soul above pill boxes and lancets, after all." 
 
 "Ah, you rascal, what would your 
 mother say to a rebel daughter-in-law?" 
 the doctor laughed, pleased at the turn in 
 his humor. 
 
 "Faith, that's the kind every mother 
 has to put up with," answered D'Arcy, 
 sparkling. 
 
 "I think her ladyship would prefer one 
 English bred, though," ventured Gregory. 
 125
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 "I've written and told her of Pamela," 
 said the Irishman, simply. 
 
 "What!" exclaimed the Captain. 
 "You've written to Lady D'Arcy?" 
 
 "Three weeks ago," announced the 
 young man, tersely. 
 
 "Well, now I do believe you're in ear- 
 nest," said the doctor. "Even in the 
 palmy days at Bath with Lady Betty Kew, 
 you never wrote to your mother." 
 
 "Don't be teasing me, Greg. They 
 were calf days." 
 
 "You wanted to call me out for saying 
 that very same thing," replied the old 
 man, smiling. 
 
 "Dear old Greg, did I want to fight 
 you?" asked the Major, aifectionately. 
 
 "You did indeed. But I must be 
 off." He threw his big cloak about him 
 and drew on his gloves. On the thresh- 
 old he turned and said : "Don't forget to 
 tell Miss Towneshend there will be a little 
 company of officers here to-morrow night, 
 and that they must not be disturbed." 
 
 "It's too much like giving orders to a 
 queen," said D'Arcy. 
 
 "But you must, Jack. The plan of 
 126
 
 A PKOPOSAL 
 
 attack is to be given out, and there must 
 be absolutely no interruption." 
 
 "I know, I know," answered the Major, 
 gloomily. 
 
 "I'll tell her myself, if you'd rather." 
 
 "No, no," interposed D'Arcy, hastily. 
 A poor excuse to speak with her was 
 better than none to him. "I'll go to her 
 at once," he added. 
 
 "Good" said Gregory, and he went out. 
 
 D'Arcy's "at once" stretched over five 
 minutes, during which he stood gazing at 
 the letter, which he still held in his hand. 
 It puzzled and discomfited him. The 
 thought of a rival had never crossed Li.> 
 mind, and he was novy inwardly cursing at 
 the folly, that could have hoaxed him into 
 thinking, that so fair a creature as Pamela 
 could have wasted her sweetness upon a 
 townful of unsusceptible provincial gal- 
 lants. He could have withstood her 
 silent, haughty dislike and disdain, forti- 
 fying himself with hope; but the young 
 Irishman was too much of a man of the 
 world, and possessed too keen a knowledge 
 of women, to doubt that this peerless one, 
 upon whom his heart was set, would ever 
 J27
 
 D'ARCY of the GUAKDS 
 
 plight herself lightly. If she loved once, 
 those eyes and that proud mouth told him, 
 she would love forever, and he was filled 
 with a sort of numb despair. 
 
 He pulled himself together with an 
 effort and moved toward the door. His 
 hand was outstretched for the knob, when 
 it opened and Pamela rushed almost into 
 his arms. 
 
 "I beg ten thousand pardons, Miss 
 Towneshend," he said, bowing. 
 
 "The fault was mine," she answered, 
 recovering herself. Her eyes avoided his, 
 and glanced quickly about the floor of the 
 room. 
 
 "You are searching for something?" he 
 asked, almost timidly. 
 
 "Yes. I dropped a letter, I think, 
 when I was here a while ago." 
 
 "May this chance to be it?" said 
 D'Arcy, holding it out. 
 
 The crimson flew to her cheeks for a 
 moment, then she said quite steadily: 
 "Yes, that is it. It was very stupid of 
 me." 
 
 "I was about to bring it to you. Cap- 
 tain Gregory picked it up." 
 128
 
 A PROPOSAL 
 
 "It was very kind of you." She had 
 recovered her composure now, and was 
 turning to leave him. 
 
 "Miss Towneshend, " he said. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "May I speak with you one moment?" 
 
 "What is it?" she asked. 
 
 "A small company of officers is to meet 
 
 here to-morrow night, and " he 
 
 hesitated. 
 
 "Yes." Her voice was as cold and 
 colorless as ice. 
 
 "May we have a a undisturbed pos- 
 session of this room?" stammered D'Arcy. 
 
 "Yon mean that you will require the 
 household to retire early?" she asked. 
 
 "You interpret my request harshly, Miss 
 Towneshend." 
 
 "I save you that trouble," answered 
 the girl, and there was that in her voice 
 and look which called quick protest from 
 him. 
 
 "Believe me, Miss Towneshend, if it 
 will in any way inconvenience you, I will 
 do my best to have the rendezvous 
 changed." 
 
 She felt the remonstrance, but the anger 
 129
 
 D'AECY of the GUARDS 
 
 deep in her, refused to let her see the 
 young officer's gentle intention. The 
 deferential, almost humble, figure before 
 her, brought nothing but a full conscious- 
 ness of his being an intruder ; badged with 
 his coat of scarlet, he represented to her 
 all that was hateful and despicable. 
 
 "Major D'Arcy," she said, in a low 
 voice, "you and your companions in arms 
 have occupied Philadelphia, now for near 
 three months. Every day of that occu- 
 pation has been a source of inconvenience 
 and bitterness to all loyal Americans in the 
 town. I don't complain; it's all the for- 
 tune of war. But it is no kindness to me 
 to mask your demands under guise of 
 courteous request." 
 
 "You wrong my intention, Miss Towne- 
 shend," he said, feelingly, humiliated, that 
 this girl, of all girls, should so misunder- 
 stand him. 
 
 "I have no wish," she answered, "to 
 profit by any special consideration on your 
 part." 
 
 "You make me ashamed of my uniform, 
 Miss Towneshend." 
 
 "Every British officer should have 
 130
 
 A PKOPOSAL 
 
 broken his sword rather than have turned 
 it against people of his own blood, fighting 
 justly," burst out Pamela, passionately. 
 
 "You speak from the heart," he said, 
 and he could feel himself all of a 
 quiver. 
 
 "That is where I feel," she answered. 
 
 And then with some unaccountable 
 emotional impulse, D 'Arcy felt every trace 
 of reserve swept from him. He knew 
 only that the girl he loved stood before 
 him, defiant, cold, hard; and he felt irre- 
 sistibly that he must tell her, must show 
 her, how he felt. 
 
 "I would give my sword or break it 
 gladly, for some small place there," he 
 said, with a tremor in his voice, while his 
 eyes met hers, straight and compel - 
 lingly. 
 
 "Major D'Arcy!" she exclaimed, scorn- 
 fully, her eyes blazing into his. Then she 
 moved away, but he stood in front of the 
 door. There was something of her own 
 defiance and resentment in his face now, 
 but his voice pleaded for him. 
 
 "Don't turn away, Miss Towneshend. 
 No girl need be afraid of a tale of honest 
 131
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 love. And and," he faltered, "I have 
 such a tale to tell.' 
 
 "I cannot listen to you. Let me pass," 
 she cried. 
 
 "I must speak, Miss Towneshend," he 
 said, quietly, and for the moment she felt 
 herself powerless under his intensity. 
 "Ever since that autumn morning three 
 months ago, when I came into your gar- 
 den, and saw you standing like some lovely 
 flower, I have loved you. Don't shrink 
 from me; it's no crime for a man to bend 
 to the fragrance of a rose, and my lips 
 would prove recreant to my heart if they 
 refused longer to speak." 
 
 "Major D'Arcy," she answered, with a 
 sort of breathless ness, "you take advan- 
 tage of your position in this house to speak 
 in a manner that you must know is distaste- 
 ful to me." 
 
 "God forgive you, Miss Towneshend, 
 for doubting my motives. I could stand 
 your indifference to the little I have to 
 offer my life : as much as any man could 
 give ; but your scorn humbles me beyond 
 the telling, showing, as it does, how little 
 you understand what I wish." 
 
 132
 
 "I could not desire to understand what 
 you wish," answered the girl, recovering 
 herself somewhat, "and as for doubting 
 your motives, an American woman has 
 no other alternative. To be loyal to her 
 country, she must bo loyal to herself; an 
 enemy to one is an enemy to both ; and I 
 beg of you, if you are what common report 
 credits you with being a gentleman by 
 birth and breeding that you will never 
 refer again to a subject that can but be 
 painful to us both." 
 
 Her words were like lashes in the face 
 of the man, and when she had finished 
 every muscle was strung tight, and his 
 face was set like a mask. 
 
 "I trust Miss Towneshend will pardon 
 my indiscretion," he said. "I have the 
 honor to bid you good morning," and 
 bowing very low, he turned toward the 
 door, throwing his cloak about him as he 
 went. 
 
 "This apartment will be quite at your 
 service to - morrow evening, as you re- 
 quest, ' ' said Pamela. 
 
 "Thank you," he said, and bowing once 
 more he passed out, and she heard the big 
 133
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 hall door shut after him. A moment later 
 she could see him through the window, 
 bending against the wind, pass down the 
 gardens. 
 
 134
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 A VISITOR 
 
 The girl stood quite still, just where he 
 left her. Her mind was in a tumult, and 
 she had an overwhelming sense of let- 
 down ; she had braced herself for a climax, 
 and it hadn't come off. The enemy had 
 retreated ignominiously, but she had none 
 of the inspiring elation of victory. There 
 was a something in his voice too, that still 
 rang in her ears, and she would never, to 
 her dying day, forget the look in those 
 eyes. Did the victory really belong to 
 her? was the question with which she tor- 
 tured herself. Before she had chance to 
 answer, in a way that would satisfy her 
 vanity, she was summarily interrupted by 
 the quick entrance of Cynthia, whose face 
 was aglow. 
 
 "Oh, he's come, Pamela, he's come!" 
 she gasped. 
 
 "Ned!" cried Pamela, casting intro- 
 spection to the winds. 
 135
 
 D'ARCY of the GUAEDS 
 
 "Yes, he's here." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 Cynthia turned to the open door for 
 answer, and called down the passage: 
 "Ned, it 's all right. Come. ' ' 
 
 A moment later she was in his arms, 
 her flaming face against his cold cheek. 
 
 "Ned!" was all she could murmur. 
 
 "Sis, dear, here I am. You got my 
 note?" 
 
 "Not half an hour ago," said Cynthia, 
 hovering about, a light in her eyes. 
 
 "You should have brought it yourself," 
 said Pamela, gayly, standing off to survey 
 him, her eyes taking in every detail of his 
 disguise, from the stout shoes and woolen 
 stockings to the rough great - coat that 
 enveloped him. 
 
 "It would have been safer," he laughed. 
 "I had a hard time getting through. 
 The roads are more carefully guarded 
 than before. I thought they were after 
 me once, but I gave 'em the slip." 
 
 "It was dangerous venturing by day," 
 said Pamela. 
 
 "It would have been worse by night. 
 How is mother?" 
 
 136
 
 A VISITOR 
 
 "I'll go and tell her you are here. She 
 couldn't stand having you burst in on 
 her," said Cynthia, and she was off like a 
 flash, to be back the quicker. 
 
 The brother and sister, left alone, had a 
 thousand questions, treasured through the 
 long weeks, and the talk was fast. 
 Answers came through the glance of an 
 eye or the pressure of hand. They filled 
 the precious minutes to the brim, with all 
 that the long absences denied them. 
 
 "And do your lodgers give you any 
 trouble?" he asked, after a while. "Are 
 they well-behaved and considerate?" 
 
 "They are models, Ned," she answered, 
 "and are really a great protection for us." 
 
 "That Irish Major, what's his name? 
 Does he behave civilly and treat you with 
 respect?" 
 
 "He's very nice for a red-coat," said 
 Pamela. 
 
 "I have heard as much." 
 
 "You have heard of him?" she ques- 
 tioned, and the interest with which she 
 asked it, astonished herself. 
 
 "Yes," said Towneshend. "Curiously 
 enough, the young Marquis de Lafayette, 
 137
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 whom I told you about, met him in Paris 
 several years ago, and speaks very highly 
 of him." 
 
 "Tell me, what did he say?" She 
 could have bitten through her wayward 
 tongue, and her cheeks were playing her 
 false, too. 
 
 "Oh, he said he was once on the British 
 embassy at Paris, and was a son of Lord 
 D'Arcy." 
 
 "Is that all?" she asked. 
 
 The obtuseness of a brother was hardly 
 proof against the disappointment in her 
 voice. 
 
 "See here!" he cried, taking her hands 
 and laughing out. "The Major hasn't 
 been recruiting in the household, has he?" 
 
 "What do you mean?" she asked, with 
 wonder-wide eyes, repairing her defenses. 
 
 "The red-coat is not proving too attract- 
 ive, eh, Sis?" 
 
 "You stupid boy. If you but knew how 
 I despised him!" she said, and convinced 
 him thoroughly and almost herself. 
 
 The banter went on. Their spirits rose 
 joyously, only at their height to be plunged 
 into terror, not many minutes later. 
 138
 
 A VISITOR 
 
 It was the alert ear of the young officer 
 that caught the sound of tramping feet. 
 
 "What was that?" he cried sharply, 
 springing up. 
 
 ""What?" questioned Pamela, the note 
 of concern in his voice gripping her. 
 
 "I thought I heard something." 
 
 "Your imagination, dear," she said, as 
 he stepped to the window. He held the 
 curtains aside for an instant, and then 
 jumped back with an oath. 
 
 "Imagination, the devil, Pamela! Do 
 you see those red-jackets going around the 
 corner of the house?" 
 
 "Soldiers?" gasped the girl. "Where?" 
 
 She was answered by Cynthia, who at 
 that moment burst into the room, fear in 
 every line of her face. 
 
 "Ned, Ned!" she cried, "the house is 
 surrounded! What are we to do?" 
 
 Disciplined in danger, once the first 
 shock of surprise had swept over him, the 
 young officer had himself well in hand. 
 No one knew better his fate, if captured, 
 and his calmness surprised even the two 
 girls who knew his iron restraint. 
 
 "I felt that I hadn't thrown 'em off 
 139
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 the track," he said quietly, drawing a 
 pistol from his pocket. "I must make a 
 run for it." 
 
 "It would be folly," cried Pamela. 
 "They wotild shoot you down before you 
 had gone ten steps." 
 
 "I can't be taken," said the young 
 officer, grimly. "I am within the 
 enemy's lines disguised. That means ' 
 
 "Ssh!" murmured Cynthia, putting her 
 hand over his mouth to push back the hor- 
 rid word. "What shall we do, Pamela?" 
 
 "There is only one thing to do," 
 answered the girl. "Come this way," 
 she said, and moved toward the door 
 across the room. 
 
 "Where?" he questioned, doubtfully, 
 but following. 
 
 "The old spare chambers," answered 
 Pamela. "Major D'Arcy and Captain 
 Gregory occupy them. Find mother, 
 Cynthia," she said, turning to her cousin, 
 "and see that she is not alarmed." 
 
 With a cry, the girl threw herself in 
 Towneshend's arms. 
 
 "There, there, dear," he said, gently, 
 "I'll outwit them yet." 
 140
 
 A VISITOK 
 
 "I'm afraid," she sobbed. 
 
 "Come," said Pamela, holding open the 
 door. "They will not enter here, if I can 
 help it." 
 
 "They will never take me if they do," 
 said Towneshend, quietly, and he gripped 
 his pistol significantly. 
 
 "No, no, not that," pleaded Cynthia. 
 
 "Go, Cynthia, dear," said Pamela, and 
 the girl shrank from the room. 
 
 "I will stand guard here," went on 
 Pamela. "My wits will keep them at 
 bay, I think." 
 
 "What a home-coming is this, Sis!" 
 answered the lad, lingering. But with 
 a hasty kiss, she pushed him in, closed 
 the door, and turning the key, put it 
 in her pocket. Sue scarce had time 
 to shift her position to the front of 
 the fire, when the door on the oppo- 
 site side of the room was flung open, 
 and a sergeant with a file of men 
 marched in. 
 
 The girl, tremulous, and fear-stricken 
 
 within, held her head high, and swept the 
 
 intruders with an indignant glance. 
 
 "What is the meaning of this intrusion?" 
 
 141
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 she asked, as the file drew up and the 
 sergeant stepped forward. 
 
 "A rebel spy has been traced to this 
 house. Have orders to search every apart- 
 ment," said the man, curtly. 
 
 "There are no apartments on this side 
 of the house," answered Pamela. 
 
 "Where does that door lead?" he 
 questioned, stepping across the room. 
 
 "Oh, there is a suite of chambers there, 
 but they are occupied," said the girl, her 
 heart pounding, but showing no trace of 
 it in the carefully-steadied voice. 
 
 "It's locked," the sergeant said, trying 
 the door. 
 
 "I suppose so," said Pamela. 
 
 "Where is the key?" 
 
 "One might imagine the occupant 
 would have it." She was struggling for 
 time desperately. 
 
 "We'll have the door down, Corporal," 
 he said, and one of the grenadiers stepped 
 forward. 
 
 "I doubt if Major D'Arcy will care for 
 that," she remarked, quietly, so quietly 
 that it sounded to herself like a far-away 
 whisper. 
 
 143
 
 A VISITOR 
 
 "Major who?" questioned the sergeant, 
 sharply. 
 
 "Major D'Arcy, of the Grenadier 
 Guards." 
 
 "Is he quartered here?" asked the man, 
 suspiciously. 
 
 "I have said so," she answered. 
 
 "Why is the door locked?" 
 
 "Major D'Arcy is at headquarters and 
 will no doubt give you any information 
 you require and perhaps even the keys." 
 
 There was hurried whispering between 
 the corporal and sergeant, while hope 
 struggled feebly to rise in her ; only to be 
 dashed back a moment later, when the 
 sergeant said gruffly: "We'll go in, any- 
 how." 
 
 "As you please," replied Pamela, 
 firmly, though her lip quivered and she 
 could feel her knees bend under her. 
 
 She couldn't have told the time that 
 passed, her mind seemed stretched across 
 eternity ; she was conscious of seeing the 
 broad red shoulders shoved against the 
 door, which resisted stoutly, then like a 
 flash the door to the hall banged open, and 
 D'Arcy strode in. 
 
 143
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 "What is this?" he cried, looking about 
 the room, and the anger in his voice was 
 savage. 
 
 "We are on the track of a rebel spy, 
 Major," answered the astounded sergeant, 
 "and Captain Dacier has ordered us to 
 search the house." 
 
 "I am very sorry, Miss Towneshend, 
 that you have been subjected to this 
 annoyance," said D'Arcy, turning to the 
 girl. 
 
 "Pray, Major D'Arcy, don't consider 
 me in the matter. Yours would have 
 been the annoyance." 
 
 "Mine?" he questioned, puzzled. 
 
 "They were about to break into your 
 chambers." 
 
 "Is the door locked?" asked D'Arcy, in 
 surprise. 
 
 "It is locked," answered Pamela, 
 steadily, and her eyes held him. 
 
 "The lady said you would know why it 
 was locked, sir, and that you had the 
 key." 
 
 D'Arcy didn't appear to hear, his face 
 never moved from that of the girl's before 
 him, but he answered sharply: "Quite 
 144
 
 A VISITOE 
 
 right, Sergeant. You may withdraw 
 your men to the gardens." 
 
 "Yes, sir," answered the man, saluting. 
 "What shall I tell the captain?" 
 
 "That I wish to see him here." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 There was a quick word of command, 
 the rattle of arms, and the squad melted 
 from the room, leaving the two face to 
 face. 
 
 145
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 MISTAKEN" IDENTITY 
 
 For Pamela the harder task remained, 
 and as she stood there with clenched 
 hands, a sense of futility and powerlessness 
 overcame her, and she knew that her nerve 
 was gone; in a moment the whole secret 
 would be his, as part of it was already, 
 and she would be crying for mercy to the 
 man who not an hour before had been at 
 her feet. She would have borne the tor- 
 tures of the rack rather than beg for her- 
 self ; but for him, Ned, her brother, any 
 abasement, rather than that he should 
 suffer. Was this cold, self-possessed man 
 standing before her the same gracious, 
 half -timid, suppliant person who had pled 
 with her? Would he listen? Would he 
 believe her oath, that her Ned was not a 
 spy? 
 
 The agony of these and a hundred 
 other doubtful questions fluttered her 
 mind, and showed in her face, and every 
 147
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 gentle, pitying instinct in D'Arcy felt for 
 her. And yet feeling seemed dead within 
 him. She was fighting for the man she 
 loved, and Chance had chosen him for her 
 antagonist. He, of all persons in the 
 world, was bidden to save or destroy her 
 lover, and either way to destroy himself. 
 The grim irony of it forced a smile to his 
 lips, and seeing it she spoke, stepping 
 toward him and holding out the key. 
 
 "Thank you," she said. 
 
 "He is there?" asked D'Arcy, 
 mechanically. 
 
 "I swear to you he is not a spy," she 
 burst out, passionately. 
 
 "You love him?" he said. 
 
 "As my life!" she cried. "I throw 
 myself on your generosity. Appearances 
 are against him, I know ; he is disguised, 
 but it was only his eagerness to get here, 
 only that." 
 
 "I can understand," he replied, but 
 there was no interest in his voice; he 
 spoke in a dull monotone. He knew how 
 this girl could love, if she ever did love ; 
 the thought of it had haunted him all 
 these weeks past, and now he, who had 
 148
 
 MISTAKEN IDENTITY 
 
 dreamed dreams, was awakened to what? 
 To the bitter reality, that it was not 
 for him. Should it be for that other 
 hiding there, whose fate he held in his 
 hand? 
 
 She could see the struggle in him. 
 "Don't give him up," she cried. "He's 
 too young to die, and they would hang 
 him. Oh, God, can't you see it would 
 break my heart? Have some pity." 
 
 "Miss Towneshend, can you swear on 
 your honor that he is not within our lines 
 to seek information?" he asked. 
 
 "I swear it," said Pamela. 
 
 His eyes seemed to touch her soul, and 
 he knew that she spoke truth. 
 
 "I exceed my authority," he said, "but 
 I will save him if I can." 
 
 "I thank you," said Pamela, humbly. 
 
 "Don't," he murmured. "My reward 
 is that light in your eyes. Take this 
 key," he added. "I must go to Dacier. 
 I will return in a moment." And he 
 hurried out. 
 
 Captain Dacier had but just received his 
 message from the sergeant and was com- 
 ing toward the house. They met on the 
 149
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 steps, and D'Arcy's salute was of the 
 coolest. 
 
 "Sergeant Trip informed me that you 
 wanted to see me," said the Captain. 
 
 "Yes," said the Major, "he was quite 
 unwarrantably trying to force his way into 
 my apartments." 
 
 "But there is a spy in the house." 
 
 "I doubt it," said D'Arcy, curtly. 
 "You have searched thoroughly?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "Almost entirely," answered Dacier. 
 
 "Well, my rooms were locked, and I 
 have the key." 
 
 "He must be somewhere," replied the 
 Captain, nettled. 
 
 "Must he?" questioned D'Arcy, 
 quizzically. 
 
 "There is some mystery," said the 
 other. 
 
 "Clear it up, by all means," said 
 D'Arcy. "I accept entire responsibility 
 for any spy being in the house," he 
 added. 
 
 "I shall report the whole affair to head- 
 quarters," Dacier said, sharply. 
 
 "They don't like mysteries at head- 
 ISO
 
 MISTAKEN IDENTITY 
 
 quarters, Captain Dacier. Good morn- 
 ing." 
 
 "Good morning, sir." 
 
 The Captain turned on his heel mutter- 
 ing, and D'Arcy, standing there, watched 
 the company of Grenadiers file out, a 
 moment later, into the road. 
 
 He turned back into the house, but his 
 moment of Quixotic enthusiasm had 
 passed, and it was listlessly that he again 
 entered the library. His cheeks tingled 
 at the sight which met his eyes. She 
 might have spared him that, was the 
 thought that dashed through his head, as 
 he saw her standing with her arms around 
 the neck of a great-coated figure, that 
 towered above her. 
 
 "It is Major D'Arcy," she cried 
 joyously, turning to him. "Ned, he 
 saved you. Major D'Arcy," she said, "I 
 wish to present my brother, Captain 
 Towneshend." 
 
 "Your brotJier?" gasped the Irishman, 
 doubt and delight struggling hard to get 
 the better of him. "Miss Towneshend, 
 do you mean to tell me that it is your 
 brother I have saved?" 
 151
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 "No other," said Pamela. "Who else 
 could he have been?" 
 
 "He could have been the man I would 
 have hated most in the world," answered 
 D'Arcy, radiant. "Captain Towne- 
 shend," he said, stepping to the dragoon 
 with outstretched, welcome hand, "it is a 
 privilege to meet you, sir." 
 
 "I don't know how you accomplished 
 it," said Towneshend, grasping the 
 other's hand, "but I am mightily obliged 
 to you." 
 
 "And I," said Pamela, looking at him 
 curiously, "can never tell you." She put 
 out her hand, and D'Arcy took it gently to 
 his lips, the blood surging at mad pace to 
 his head. 
 
 It was late in the afternoon, as dusk was 
 falling, that D'Arcy and Towneshend rode 
 away from the house, and they had ridden 
 some miles before the British officer, 
 bidding his companion good-bye and 
 God-speed, turned his own horse in the 
 direction of the town. The stars 
 twinkling frostily on him, as he sped, had 
 a new message for him that night, and 
 Hope was the burden of it. 
 152
 
 MISTAKEN IDENTITY 
 
 Supping at mess later, he was the life 
 of the whole table, reminiscent of the 
 old-time D'Arcy; sparkling, witty, flip- 
 pant, and gay. His jests bubbled and 
 overflowed, swamping the youngsters in 
 exuberant joy, and the oldsters too, for 
 that matter, though their satisfaction was 
 less ebullient. 
 
 He tore himself away early, however, 
 for he was not unmindful of certain awk- 
 ward questions which might arise from 
 Dacier's representations, at headquarters, 
 of the morning's happenings. Piquet till 
 midnight with the chief, and an incidental 
 loss of thirty or forty guineas, set that 
 right though, if it really needed any ad- 
 justment ; for my Lord Cornwallis had a 
 special liking for his dashing, good- 
 humored aide. 
 
 Gregory, slippered and drowsy, in front 
 of the fire, was struggling valiantly to 
 keep his pipe-bowl hot when D'Arcy came 
 in. They had not met since early morn- 
 ing, and the old man was eager to hear the 
 Major's budget of news. News he had, 
 the doctor was quite sure, as he watched 
 him unbuckle sword and cloak, but he 
 153
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 was wise enough to wait for it, and let it 
 come as it would. Glasses were filled and 
 D'Arcy called the toast: "To the fairest 
 maid in all the world." 
 
 "With all my heart, Jack. The little 
 rebel?" 
 
 "Egad, Greg, she's a loyal rebel. I 
 adore her. She gave me her hand " 
 
 "What!" said the doctor, sitting up 
 straight. "She gave you her hand? 
 Have you asked her to marry you already?" 
 
 "Of course I asked her," said D'Arcy, 
 "and she refused me with the air of the 
 duchess that she is." 
 
 "But you just said she gave you her 
 hand," Gregory said, puzzled. 
 
 "Oh, you silly old Greg. That was 
 afterward, and she gave it to me to kiss." 
 
 "Little baggage !" ejaculated the doctor. 
 "Jack, she's trifling with you." 
 
 "That's the point, Greg," answered 
 D'Arcy, gaily. "It's me she's trifling 
 with and no one else mind that." 
 
 "What's become of t'other fellow, the 
 mysterious man of disguise?" questioned 
 the old man, hopelessly at sea. 
 
 "Ah, he's a jewel, Greg. I could love 
 154
 
 MISTAKEN IDENTITY 
 
 him as a brother if I had the chance," 
 laughed the Irishman. 
 
 "You saw him?" 
 
 "I did, indeed." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "Here. He spent most of the after- 
 noon with his sweetheart, and at five 
 o'clock I gave him my company for five 
 miles, on his way back to the rebel 
 camp." 
 
 "I give it up, Jack," said the doctor. 
 "You're either out of your head or talk- 
 ing riddles." 
 
 "If you'd not be interrupting every 
 second, Captain Gregory, I could tell a 
 straightforward tale; and a very pretty 
 one it is." 
 
 "Go on, I'll not stop you." 
 
 "I'll begin at the end," began D'Arcy. 
 
 "As usual," the doctor couldn't help 
 putting in. 
 
 D'Arcy drew a deep puff from his 
 pipe, and kept silent for a couple of 
 minutes, to punish him. Then he went 
 on: "Well, his sweetheart is not mine, 
 Greg." 
 
 "I can readily believe that." 
 155
 
 "Oh, you stupid old Greg! You don't 
 mean what I mean." 
 
 "What do I mean?" asked the doctor. 
 
 "You mean that we are both in love 
 with the same girl. And so we are," he 
 added, "but in a different way." 
 
 "And you compromised on that basis, 
 did you, Jack?" asked Gregory, with deep 
 irony. 
 
 "Yes, I was perfectly satisfied with his 
 way; he's her brother, Greg." 
 
 "Her brother!" ejaculated Gregory. 
 
 "No less and thank heaven, no more," 
 answered the Irishman. 
 
 "And pray, who is his sweetheart?" 
 
 "Why, his cousin, Miss Cynthia, you 
 blockhead." 
 
 "It's like one of Mr. Garrick's comedies, 
 Jack." 
 
 "It's better; it's real," said D'Arcy. 
 
 "But why did she give you her hand to 
 kiss, if she wouldn't give it to you to 
 keep?" questioned Gregory. 
 
 "You know not the ways of women, 
 Greg. Your flinty heart has never been 
 touched by experience." 
 
 "Your experience with 'em seems to
 
 MISTAKEN IDENTITY 
 
 have been of much value to you, Jack," 
 answered the other, with a snort. 
 
 "Faith, Greg, every woman is a new 
 experience." 
 
 "It's a long lesson," answered the old 
 man, dubiously. 
 
 "But a pleasant one, and always worth 
 the learning. ' ' 
 
 "You should know; you've been con- 
 stantly at school," said the doctor. 
 
 "And my latest school-mistress is the 
 best," cried D'Arcy. 
 
 "Because she's given you a harder task, " 
 laughed Gregory. ' ' The rest were too eager 
 for that fastidious dandy, Jack D'Arcy." 
 
 "Out of the mouths of babes and fools! 
 Faith, Greg, you speak wisdom. You've 
 summed up the whole philosophy of love : 
 what we can't have, we want; and we 
 flout whatever shows us favor." 
 
 "It's an ungallant philosophy," puffed 
 the old man. 
 
 "Ah, philosophy has no manners at all, 
 Greg." 
 
 "Which brings us back to the statement 
 that Miss Towneshend allowed you to kiss 
 her hand. ' ' 
 
 157
 
 D'AKCY of the GUARDS 
 
 "It was gratitude, Greg; but it was 
 sweeter than any other woman's favor." 
 
 "Gratitude?" 
 
 "I saved her brother," said D'Arcy. 
 4 'Dacier had a file of the Guards here, and 
 they would have strung him up as sure as 
 they would have laid, hands on him. I 
 threw 'em off the scent." 
 
 "What if he was really a spy?" ques- 
 tioned Gregory, with concern. 
 
 "She swore he wasn't." 
 
 "Naturally," grunted the doctor. 
 
 "Have you ever looked in her eyes, 
 Greg?" asked the young man. 
 
 "No, I haven't." 
 
 "You'd never doubt her word if you 
 had." 
 
 "I'd never look in a woman's eyes for 
 the truth," answered the doctor. 
 
 "I know that, Greg. Truth is a will- 
 o'-the-wisp, and eludes all such crabbed 
 old bachelors as yourself." 
 
 "But was it discretion?" asked the old 
 man. 
 
 "No. It was love," answered D'Arcy, 
 and Gregory saw that he was proof against 
 any subtle casuistry. 
 
 158
 
 "If the lady refused your suit, why are 
 you so happy to-night?" he asked. 
 
 "Because I was able to serve her." 
 
 "You still have hope?" questioned the 
 doctor. 
 
 "I have," answered D'Arcy. 
 
 "Well," said Gregory, leaning over and 
 clapping him on the back, "you deserve 
 her, Jack, and may you win her." 
 
 "She'll never have me as long as I wear 
 a red coat, ' ' laughed the Irishman. 
 
 "Damme, get a bottle-green one then, 
 or any color that the wench wants," 
 exclaimed the doctor, testily. 
 
 "If I come out of to-morrow's scrim- 
 mage whole, Greg, I'll sell out," said 
 D'Arcy. 
 
 "Fudge!" 
 
 "I mean it, " went on the Major. "If 
 she won't listen to a soldier, she may listen 
 to a civilian." 
 
 "If you give up your sword, Jack, she'll 
 want it back. The sex is wayward." 
 
 "Then she shall have it. Her wish is 
 law to me." 
 
 "Well, let's sleep on it," said Gregory, 
 rising. And they did; the one soundly, 
 159
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 the other fretfully, dreaming dreams once 
 more. While neither had prevision of 
 the calamity that was to fall on the mor- 
 row. 
 
 160
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 A COUNCIL OP WAR 
 
 Two young people under the Towne- 
 shend roof opened their eyes the following 
 morning on a new world. To Pamela, 
 early awake, but lying in her chintzed, 
 four-posted bed, long beyond the house- 
 wife's hour, the consciousness of it was 
 obscure, though in full possession of her. 
 She strove to see the events of the day 
 before, in rightful sequence, first forward, 
 then back, only to be baffled time and 
 again by the inconsequent obtrusion in 
 her mind, of a gallant, scar let -coated 
 figure, that dominated the whole, and 
 refused to be banished. It irritated her; 
 she was restless and uncomfortable; new 
 conditions seemed to have arisen in the 
 night to surround and hem her in. 
 Something, she knew not what, curbed the 
 joyous sense of freedom and personal inde- 
 pendence in which she gloried and Tie 
 had kissed her hand. With a flush, she 
 161
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 remembered that she had given it to him 
 for that purpose. "And why not?" she 
 cried, petulantly, pulling the bell-cord to 
 summon her maid. There was no answer 
 to her question, and Cicely was well 
 chidden, on her appearance, for tardiness. 
 
 In fact, she was a willful mistress that 
 morning, and changed places with her 
 usually dominating little handmaiden. 
 An unsatisfactory half hour was spent 
 before the mirror in futile attempts at 
 hair dressing, that would not go right. 
 Then frock after frock, and ribbon after 
 ribbon was tossed aside, and the morning 
 was well advanced when Cynthia, enter- 
 ing the room, found both her cousin and 
 Cicely in tears. So disturbing is the 
 boundary crossing into an undiscovered 
 country. 
 
 Pamela kept in the far parts of the house 
 all day; away from the book-room, and 
 any possibility of chance meeting. 
 
 With D'Arcy it was different. A 
 man's processes are simpler, his transitions 
 and adaptations swifter. At the first 
 glimpse of dawn, he grew restless, and by 
 the time the sunshine twinkled through 
 102
 
 A COUNCIL of WAR 
 
 the frosted panes, he was wide awake, 
 collecting scattered, hazy thoughts, to 
 explain a boundless elation. He called 
 through the open door to Gregory, sleep- 
 ing soundly, and called again, at no sign 
 of response. 
 
 "Eh, what? Did you call, Jack?" 
 answered the old man at last, starting up. 
 
 "I kissed her hand, Greg," shouted 
 D'Arcy. 
 
 "What? Kissed whose hand? What 
 
 the devil " sputtered Gregory, and 
 
 then, as a merry laugh came through to 
 him, he flounced over indignantly and was 
 asleep, leaving the youngster to wonder 
 how such an epoch event in his life could 
 arouse so little interest in his companion. 
 The color of life for him had changed 
 suddenly, in hours, from somber to rose 
 tint, and he couldn't conceive that the 
 joy was all his. He demanded that the 
 whole world should be joyous and gay 
 with him and should share his happiness. 
 The prospect of the day and night's busi- 
 ness before him cast a slight shadow, but 
 it passed, and when Gregory again awoke 
 it was to find him in full banter with his 
 163
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 servant, who was shaving and administer- 
 ing the other sacred rites of toilet. 
 
 It was a full day and busy among the 
 conquerors. Headquarters was the center 
 of galloping aides, regimental and brigade 
 commanders. Sir "William Howe had 
 wakened up. News of the pitiable condi- 
 tion of Washington's little army, encamped 
 on the frozen hills about Valley Forge, had 
 determined the British commander to make 
 a rapid night march, an early morning 
 attack, sweep the miserable rebel remnant 
 into oblivion, and end the war once for 
 all. For fear of miscarriage, the project 
 had been kept a profound secret, and 
 though the rank and file felt intuitively 
 that a movement was on foot, not even 
 regimental commanders knew anything of 
 its character or its object. It was 
 intended that no inkling of the secret 
 should leak out till just before starting, 
 and to that purpose colonels and company 
 officers had been ordered to report at 
 different meeting-places to receive impor- 
 tant instructions. Colonel Sir Edward 
 Jennison, of the Guards, with his staff, 
 was to rendezvous at the Towneshend 
 164
 
 house, where D'Arcy was directed to bring 
 them full instructions and orders. 
 
 It was something after eight in the 
 evening that D'Arcy rapped on the 
 knocker of the outer door, and was ad- 
 mitted by Gregory. The company of 
 officers was already assembled, and 
 under guidance of the old doctor, had been 
 doing full justice to a copious bowl of 
 deliciously brewed punch, sent in by the 
 courtesy of Mistress Towneshend, as the 
 Captain whispered to Jack. It tasted 
 nectar to the Major on that account. 
 He was greeted uproariously and called 
 upon for a toast, but Sir Edward de- 
 manded business first, and D'Arcy pro- 
 ceeded to spread the table with road-maps, 
 plans, and orders for the night's work. 
 To keep them flat, he drew two silver- 
 mounted pistols from his coat to weight 
 the edges; the same memorable pistols 
 that had stood him in such good stead on 
 that far-away night when he and the 
 
 Marquis of G had ridden together. 
 
 By just such trivial expedients does tricky 
 Chance sweep a man's destiny aside. 
 
 He and Jennisou were soon deep in 
 165
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 whispered consultation, the roomful of 
 men looking on with undisguised im- 
 patience. At last the Colonel spoke. 
 
 "Gentlemen," he said, "I know that 
 you all have a very pardonable curiosity 
 concerning the enterprise that is on foot, 
 and I have orders here from headquarters 
 that will not only satisfy your curiosity, 
 but gratify your pride. " 
 
 "That's good," whispered Dalrymple, 
 the senior Major, audibly. ""We've been 
 mortifying our pride long enough." 
 
 "If not your flesh, eh, Major?" said 
 Captain Dacier, under his breath. 
 
 "You're right, Major," said Jennison, 
 smiling, and then continued: "The Com- 
 mander-in-Chief has thought secrecy of 
 the utmost importance in this instance, 
 and, therefore, no hint of the intended 
 movement has gotten out. It is his 
 intention to make this attack a complete 
 surprise to the enemy, and to that pur- 
 pose these instructions have not been 
 given to regimental commanders till now." 
 
 "When do we move, sir?" questioned 
 Farquhar, an alert little captain. Sir 
 Edward, for answer, drew out his fob and 
 166
 
 A COUNCIL of WAR 
 
 glanced at his watch. "It is half -after 
 eight," he said, and then, reading from 
 the orders before him, "The advance, 
 composed of both regiments of the 
 Guards, and the brigade of Hessians, is to 
 move at one o'clock." 
 
 "To-morrow, sir?" asked Dacier. 
 
 "To-day to-night, sir?" answered the 
 Colonel, frowning. "You will have 
 about four hours for preparation. ' ' Then 
 he addressed the others, who had clustered 
 about the table by which he was standing. 
 "As you will see by the maps here, gentle- 
 men," he said, "the enemy's position is a 
 strong one." 
 
 "We'll sweep 'em off their feet," 
 interjected Dalrymple. 
 
 "You talk as if the Guards were armed 
 with brooms, Dal," laughed D'Arcy. 
 
 "The bayonet is a grenadier's broom, 
 Jack," answered the big Major. 
 
 "Aye, sir," said Sir Edward, "and 
 we'll give it to 'em. As I was saying," 
 he went on, "the enemy holds a strong 
 position, their intrenchments are strung 
 along these hills, which are heavily tim- 
 bered." His finger traced over the maps, 
 167
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 and the little group about him followed 
 with eager eyes. "At their back, you 
 see, is the river." 
 
 "I don't envy 'em to-morrow morning's 
 bath," said little Farquhar. 
 
 "That's just the point, Captain," 
 answered the Colonel; over his shoulder. 
 "We'll drive 'em into the river. Our 
 regiment has the post of honor in the 
 van," he continued, "and we must set 
 the pace ; we must prove ourselves worthy 
 of the honor." 
 
 There were murmurs of approval all 
 around, and, after studying the maps for a 
 moment, he went on again. "The attack 
 begins from this side with us. The 
 Hessians move to the left, and the 
 Eightieth, Forty -first and Ninety -second 
 take the center." At this point Dal- 
 rymple leaned over to examine some 
 detail of the plans, and he and the 
 Colonel conversed in low tones for several 
 minutes. The others drew back, and had 
 resort to the decanters and punch-bowl, 
 and took occasion to refill and put fire to 
 their long pipe-stems. 
 
 "They are nothing but a disorganized 
 168
 
 A COUNCIL of WAR 
 
 rabble, and if we hem 'em in so they can't 
 run, they'll throw down their arms at 
 once," remarked Dacier. 
 
 "Or drown like rats in the river," 
 added Gregory. 
 
 "That's what they should do, Greg," 
 said D'Arcy, who, with his back spread to 
 the blaze on the andirons, was lazily 
 blowing fragrant clouds toward the ceil- 
 ing; "but," he added, "they won't. The 
 beggars are sadly lacking in the knowl- 
 edge of tactics, and don't know how to 
 retreat, and as for their manual of arms, 
 it gives 'em no information at all on the 
 subject of throwing 'em down." 
 
 "You're right, Jack," put in Far- 
 quhar; "the rascals don't seem to know 
 when they're beaten." 
 
 "Eh, what's that?" questioned the 
 Colonel, overhearing the last phrase, and 
 looking around. "Who said beaten?" 
 
 "I was saying, Colonel," answered 
 Farquhar, "that the rebels never knew 
 when they were beaten." 
 
 "Oh, the scoundrels can fight, damn 
 'em," exclaimed Jennison, "and they'll 
 have to to-morrow." 
 
 169
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 "If everything goes right, it will end 
 the war," said Dalrymple. 
 
 "Everything mnst go right," replied 
 Sir Edward, positively. "This is the 
 most important move we've made. 
 There is no possible way in which our 
 plans can have leaked out, and they'll be 
 totally unprepared. We'll catch 'ein 
 napping, and rout 'em to the last man." 
 
 "They've only a handful fit for service, 
 anyhow," said Dacier. 
 
 "That fox "Washington seems to do 
 most damage when he has only a band of 
 disabled men. Remember Trenton and 
 Princeton," rejoined Dalrymple. 
 
 "Oh, Dal, let's forget 'em," laughed 
 D'Arcy. 
 
 "Yes," said Jennison, "they're like a 
 bad dream." 
 
 "To-morrow we'll retrieve all that and 
 wipe the score clean," muttered Far- 
 quhar, quaffing deep from the bowl's 
 contents. 
 
 "We'll bring this Mr. Washington and 
 his French aide, the Marquis de Lafa- 
 yette, back to Philadelphia with us," 
 exclaimed Dacier. 
 
 170
 
 A COUNCIL of WAK 
 
 "I wonder if Frenchy is really a mar- 
 quis?" asked Dalrymple. 
 
 "He's a beautiful marquis, Dal," 
 replied D'Arcy, "and a charming gentle- 
 man. I knew him in Paris when he was 
 only a lad." 
 
 "He must like the company he's keep- 
 ing," remarked Dacier, sneeringly. 
 
 "A good fighting man is always good 
 company, Captain Dacier," said D'Arcy, 
 and he toised the Captain with a mocking 
 eye. 
 
 Dacier flushed, and a retort was on his 
 lips, when Dalrymple broke in heartily, 
 'The best in the world, Jack." 
 
 And Sir Edward, who had not noticed 
 the little incident, joined in commenda- 
 tion. "Sound doctrine that, gentlemen. 
 And now, "he added, turning to them all, 
 "I think there is nothing more to be said. 
 "We'll all meet again before many hours." 
 
 "But who knows when or where we'll 
 meet again after that, Sir Edward?" asked 
 D'Arcy. "So sit ye down, and give us a 
 toast." 
 
 The proposal was chorused by all 
 assembled, and the Colonel found himself 
 171
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 the center of brimming glasses. He held 
 one himself, and he gave them, "The 
 King, gentlemen ; God bless him, and his 
 fighting men ! " 
 
 "The King and his fighting men," 
 echoed the group. 
 
 "And may they always support one 
 another," added Jennison, fervently. 
 
 ' ' Forever ! ' ' shouted all . 
 
 "Fill again, Sir Edward. Boys, do 
 your duty," cried D'Arcy, and when they 
 had replenished, he lifted his glass, and 
 gave the Commander-in-Chief and Lord 
 Cornwallis. 
 
 "Here, here!" cried his companions 
 "The Commander-in-Chief and Lord 
 Cornwallis. " 
 
 "That's hearty," said the Colonel, "and 
 a good omen for the morrow. And 
 now," he added, "I must bid you all 
 good-night. You'd all best get a few 
 hours' sleep before we start." 
 
 "Oh, Sir Edward^ you can't go yet," 
 exclaimed D'Arcy, taking him by the 
 arm coaxingly. "Dal hasn't sung his 
 song." 
 
 "That's so," said Farquhar. 
 172
 
 A COUNCIL of WAR 
 
 4 ' Come , Ma j or , " urged the others , " we 
 must have it." 
 
 "What shall it be?" asked Dalrymple. 
 
 "That new song, Dal, about the little 
 dear in the alley,'"' answered D'Arcy. 
 
 "Yes, that's the one," said Jennison, 
 seating himself and filling a pipe. 
 
 Dalrymple took a puff or two from hia 
 "church warden," and then, with a "Here 
 goes, lads, don't forget the chorus," he 
 sang "Sally in Our Alley." It went with 
 a dash, and the choruses made the win- 
 dows rattle, while Pamela and Cynthia, 
 not far away, shivered for fear of their 
 china and glass, which had been sent in 
 to honor the occasion. There was no 
 damage, however, save leakage, and the 
 decanters and bowl were at a low ebb, 
 when, at last, the Colonel staggered to his 
 feet determinedly. 
 
 "Jack D'Arcy, I see you're for a night 
 of it," he laughed. 
 
 "Only for a part of a night," answered 
 D'Arcy. "Drink and be merry, Colonel, 
 for to-morrow we you know the rest, 
 Sir Edward. And if we do, to-night 
 would have been wasted between sheets." 
 173
 
 D'AKCY of the GUARDS 
 
 "You're a roisterer, Jack, and I'll leave 
 you to your ways." He had buckled his 
 cloak about him, and, turning to the 
 others, who had risen, he bade them all 
 good-night. 
 
 D'Arcy, picking up a candle, followed 
 him out, and the frosty night air blew so 
 refreshingly, after the heated, stuffy room, 
 that he went down through the gardens 
 with him. "When he returned, they were 
 roaring through another song, and D'Arcy 
 took up the chorus with them : 
 
 " Let the toast pass, 
 Drink to the lass, 
 
 I'll warrant she'll prove an excuse for the 
 glass." 
 
 Then Dalrymple went on to the next 
 verse: 
 
 "Here's to the charmer whose dimples we 
 
 prize, 
 
 Now to the maid who has none. sir. 
 Here's to the girl with a pair of blue eyes, 
 And here's to the nymphs with but one, sir." 
 
 Again they rollicked through the 
 chorus, and a final verse was demanded. 
 174
 
 A COUNCIL of WAR 
 
 "For let 'em be clumsy and let 'em be slim, 
 Young or ancient, I care not a feather ; 
 So fill a pint bumper quite up to the brim, 
 So fill up your glasses, way full to the brim, 
 And let us e'en toast them together." 
 
 sang Dalrymple, and they all joined in 
 with: 
 
 "Let the toast pass, 
 
 Drink to the lass, 
 
 I'll warrant she'll prove an excuse for the 
 glass." 
 
 There was a shout for more, but the 
 big Major refused. 
 
 "You missed our last toast, D'Arcy," 
 said Dacier. 
 
 "I hate to miss a good toast," said the 
 Irishman. "We'll have it over again. 
 What was it?" 
 
 "The ladies, Jack," answered Dal- 
 rymple. 
 
 "With all my heart! The ladies!" 
 cried D'Arcy. 
 
 "May beauty and wit be always theirs," 
 said Farquhar, enthusiastically. 
 
 "And may the sex complete be always 
 ours," twinkled D'Arcy, raising his glass. 
 
 They were all about to drink, when 
 175
 
 D'AECY of the GUARDS 
 
 Dacier, whose capacity had been imposed 
 upon woefully, interrupted. 
 
 "Now that Major D'Arcy is here," he 
 said, "I would like to specialize my orig- 
 inal toast, and propose the fair and 
 charming young rebel, Miss Pamela 
 Towneshend. " There was just the slight- 
 est shade of insinuation in his voice, that 
 sent a shiver up and down the backs of 
 the others, to whom D'Arcy 's interest was 
 not a mystery. Dalrymple jumped into 
 the breach hurriedly. 
 
 "Every one would gladly do homage to 
 the beautiful and accomplished Miss 
 Towneshend," he said, and Gregory, 
 whose anxious eyes had been fastened on 
 the face of his friend, breathed easier. 
 He was premature, for Dacier, feeling a 
 sort of challenge in Dalrymple 's notice- 
 able attempt to cover up his remark, 
 snapped out in answer: "If they got a 
 chance, yes; but D'Arcy keeps a good 
 thing to himself." 
 
 "Oh, shut up," said Farqnhar, fidget- 
 ing. But it had gotten beyond interfer- 
 ence. Gregory saw that, and his heart 
 sank. 
 
 176
 
 A COUNCIL of WAR 
 
 "Captain Dacier, your taste is better 
 than your manners," D'Arcy said, coldly, 
 looking the Captain in the eyes. 
 
 "I shouldn't choose you for a judge of 
 either, Major D'Arcy," retorted Dacier. 
 He was still smarting at the morning's 
 discomfiture, and his potations had 
 brought it out fiercely. Gregory had 
 stepped quickly to D'Arcy's side, and 
 whispered, "For God's sake, mind your- 
 self!" 
 
 D'Arcy either didn't hear, or didn't 
 want to heed. He was conscious only of 
 the smirking mouth before him, that 
 had spoken trivially of her; he felt that 
 he would like to crush it out of all 
 semblance of anything human, and destroy 
 the man, too. But this surge of feeling 
 receded, and it was quite calmly and 
 deliberately that he flung his glass of 
 wine straight in the other's face. 
 
 'Damn you, D'Arcy," screamed the 
 man, in a sputter, "I'll kill you." 
 
 "I meant to give you that oppor- 
 tunity," answered D'Arcy. "Do you 
 consider yourself more proficient with a 
 sword or a pistol?" 
 
 177
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 The rest of the little group had been 
 stunned by the rapidity and suddenness of 
 the whole thing, sitting agape as if at the 
 play, but now Dalrymple stepped angrily 
 between them. 
 
 "This affair must go no further," he 
 said. 
 
 "You're right, Major Dalrymple," 
 chimed in Gregory, who was beside 
 himself at the turn things had taken. 
 "The reputation of the Guards is at 
 stake." 
 
 "Will Captain Dacier withdraw his very 
 impertinent and offensive remarks con- 
 cerning a lady for whom I have the high- 
 est respect?" said D'Arcy. 
 
 "Of course, of course. Go ahead, 
 Dacier. Don't be a fool," urged fussy 
 little Farquhar. 
 
 "I'll be damned if I will," answered 
 Dacier. 
 
 "I'll be damned if you don't," cried 
 Dalrymple, out of all patience. 
 
 "Don't trust your salvation, Dal, to 
 anything so uncertain," said D'Arcy, 
 laughing. 
 
 "Jack, you'll ruin yourself, and make 
 
 178
 
 A COUNCIL of WAR 
 
 her name a byword in the army, if this 
 goes on," whispered Gregory. 
 
 "I'll kill the puppy who dared to shir 
 her," was the answer he got. "Sir," 
 D'Arcy went on, addressing Dacier, "you 
 have'the choice of weapons. We must go 
 somewhere from the house, for I cannot 
 risk annoying the regular inmates." 
 
 "As you please," answered Dacier; 
 "and I choose the rapier." 
 
 "Very good," said D'Arcy. 
 
 "Gentlemen," here broke in Dalrymple 
 again, "I will be no party to such a duel 
 and I shall go straight to my Lord 
 Cornwallis, if the matter isn't stopped. 
 Captain Gregory and the others here will 
 uphold me in my position." 
 
 "We certainly will, Major," said 
 Gregory. 
 
 "That would be most irregular," 
 answered D'Arcy. 
 
 "Don't talk to me of irregularity, 
 Jack," burst out Dalrymple. "When we 
 are within four or five hours of an engage- 
 ment, you want to go off shooting and 
 stabbing on your own account, taking 
 no heed of the honor of your regi- 
 179
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 ment, which needs the help of every 
 officer." 
 
 "I am perfectly willing to postpone the 
 pleasure of meeting Captain Dacier till 
 after to-morrow's engagement," replied 
 D'Arcy. 
 
 "I am agreeable to Major D'Arcy's pro- 
 posal," assented Dacier. 
 
 'That is satisfactory," said Dalrymple. 
 "And if you're not killed to-morrow, you 
 can kill one another when you get back," 
 he added, bluntly. 
 
 "You put' it crudely, Dal," remarked 
 D'Arcy. 
 
 "I've no patience with either of you," 
 answered Dalrymple, "and I'm going. " 
 
 "It's time we were all abed," said Far- 
 quhar, making a move toward his hat and 
 cloak. 
 
 "You're right, Captain," Gregory said, 
 and the movement was general. 
 
 The good-nights had been said, and the 
 party was about to leave the room, when 
 Gregory, who was standing by the table, 
 noticed that the maps and orders were 
 still spread out. "Halloa!" he said. 
 
 "What is it?" asked Farquhar. 
 
 180
 
 A COUNCIL of WAR 
 
 "The Colonel has left his papers," 
 answered the doctor. 
 
 "It doesn't matter," said D'Arcy. 
 "I'm going to headquarters about twelve; 
 I'll take them with me." 
 
 "Just as well," said Dalrymple. 
 "Good-night, Jack." 
 
 "I'll light you to the gate," said 
 D'Arcy, taking up a candle. 
 
 "I am going up to bed," said Gregory. 
 
 "I'll be up in a few minutes, Greg," 
 answered D'Arcy, as he followed the 
 others out. 
 
 Gregory heard the bolts being shot 
 back, and the door opened and shut 
 behind them. He took up his candle, 
 and mounted the stairs. The happenings 
 of the night and the coming morning's 
 desperate venture would have fallen out 
 differently if he had but waited for the 
 young Irishman's return. 
 
 181
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 MAJOR D'ARCY is SURPRISED 
 
 If Pamela shunned the book -room dur- 
 ing the day, it was with bounding heart 
 that she thought of it a hundred times. 
 Late in the afternoon she quite brazenly 
 proposed to Cynthia that they brew a 
 punch, and send in the decanters of 
 Madeira "as a compliment to Doctor 
 Gregory and his guests of the evening." 
 Cynthia was delighted with the disin- 
 genuous proposal, and half an hour before 
 the company of officers assembled, Sambo 
 had finished putting out the household's 
 shining crystal Pamela's pride and the 
 huge brimming bowl, flanked by choicest 
 Madeira, and a dozen dusty bottles of 
 sparkling Burgundy were placed on the 
 glistening mahogany. The little house- 
 keeper's heart fell as she surveyed the 
 priceless array, but her cheeks glowed, and 
 she was elated, nevertheless. She and 
 Cynthia decided to sit up till the little 
 183
 
 assembly dispersed; no careless house- 
 wench conld be trusted to remove the 
 precious glass and china to the pantries, 
 and even Sambo needed supervision. It 
 must be confessed that they looked 
 dubiously at one another, as the sound of 
 song and laughter came to them, but they 
 had the courage of their courtesy, and 
 strengthened themselves against the sight 
 of their treasure splintered and in pieces. 
 
 Sambo was on watch for the departure, 
 and, as the officers filed out into the 
 gardens, he called his young mistress and 
 Cynthia, and the three tiptoed into the 
 room. The ah* was heavy with smoke, 
 through which a dozen candles flickered 
 but dimly. The girls choked and 
 coughed, but found relief in not a single 
 broken glass. 
 
 Solicitude gave way to gaiety, and 
 Sambo's tray was soon loaded with the 
 precious weight. 
 
 He had left the room, and Cynthia was 
 standing by the fire. 
 
 "I suppose the Major and Doctor 
 Gregory have gone to bed," she said. 
 
 "I suppose so," answered Pamela, still 
 
 184
 
 MA JOE D'ARCY is SURPRISED 
 
 bustling about. She had come to the 
 table, upon which lay the tell-tale orders 
 and maps, still spread under the weight of 
 D'Arcy's pistols. Leaning over, to get a 
 glimpse, she read mechanically aloud, 
 what met her startled eyes, "Plans of 
 the American fortifications at Valley 
 Forge." 
 
 "What?" asked Cynthia, listlessly, not 
 hearing. 
 
 Pamela snatched up the paper, and read 
 with widening eyes, her hands all of a 
 tremor. 
 
 "Order of attack on Valley Forge, 
 Cynthia!" she cried. 
 
 "What is it?" answered the girl, turn- 
 ing to her, startled. 
 
 "Look! It's a plot, Cynthia," and she 
 read again, breathlessly, ' ' Order of attack 
 on Valley Forge; the advance composed 
 of both regiments of the Guards, and the 
 brigade of Hessians is to move at one 
 o'clock." 
 
 "When?" 
 
 "It is dated Headquarters, December 
 29th," read Pamela. 
 
 "That's to-day," gasped Cynthia. 
 185
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 "They intend to attack to-night. It's 
 a surprise," answered Pamela. 
 
 "What can we do?" 
 
 "Let me think, let me think," cried 
 her cousin; but she couldn't think, 
 thought seemed denied her; the heated, 
 smoky room numbed her senses ; her head 
 was in a whirl. "They must have word, " 
 she murmured; "they must. I have it," 
 she said, hurriedly, a moment later. 
 "Quick, Cynthia! take Sambo to the 
 stables and saddle Bess." 
 
 "What will you do, Pamela," asked the 
 girl, trembling. 
 
 "I'll warn them," she answered. 
 
 "You would never get through, " said 
 Cynthia. 
 
 "I will get through," replied Pamela, 
 firmly. She was herself again, well in 
 hand, poised, determined. "I know every 
 inch of the road, and can make it in 
 two hours three, at the most. If they 
 are not warned, they'll be destroyed. 
 Quick, dear, there is not a moment to 
 spare." 
 
 "The mare will be ready in five 
 minutes," cried Cynthia, caught by the 
 186
 
 MAJOE D'AECY is SUEPRISED 
 
 enthusiasm. "Get a warm coat, "she said, 
 as she rushed from the room. 
 
 Once again Pamela turned to the table. 
 She spread the order just as she had 
 found it, and then read and re-read it, 
 printing every word on her memory. She 
 turned to go, and, seeing D'Arcy's cloak 
 on the sofa, she threw it about her, and 
 smiled as she saw herself in the mirror. 
 One more look at the papers, and then . 
 She was bending over the table once 
 more; her eyes had reached the word 
 "Hessians" it was to be stamped on her 
 mind for lifewhen she heard a slight noise. 
 Raising her eyes, they met D'Arcy's. 
 
 He was standing just inside the door ; 
 the candle,which he held high, lit up his 
 handsome, puzzled face. Laughter and 
 inquiry struggled in his eyes, as he saw the 
 girl, draped in his huge cloak. 
 
 "Major D'Arcy!" she exclaimed. 
 
 "Miss Towneshend! I thought it was 
 some lovely ghost," he said. 
 
 "I was never more in the flesh than I 
 am to-night," she answered quietly, 
 though her head was whirling again. 
 
 "Are you for a masquerade to-night, 
 187
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 Miss Towneshend?" asked D'Arcy, his eyes 
 traveling once more over the slight, 
 cloaked, girlish figure. 
 
 "I am," said Pamela, "and for a ride," 
 she added, firmly. 
 
 "And may I accompany you?" he 
 questioned. "It is a dark night." 
 
 Like a flash it had come over him that 
 this girl, standing there defiant and at 
 bay, was his enemy; had the information 
 that would break their plans asunder, and 
 would use it to the full. 
 
 "Thank you, Major D'Arcy," he heard 
 her say, "but I must ride alone." 
 
 He was very grave now, the light had 
 left his eyes ; she felt that he had divined 
 everything. 
 
 "I am afraid, Miss Towneshend, that I 
 cannot permit you to leave this room alone 
 to-night. Not for several hours, at least," 
 he said. 
 
 "Do yon mean that you would dare to 
 use force to restrain me?" flashed out the 
 girl, with blazing eyes. 
 
 "I should feel extremely mortified if 
 you pushed me to that extremity," 
 answered D'Arcy. 
 
 188
 
 MAJOR D'AECY is SURPRISED 
 
 "Which means that you would?" 
 
 "Which means that I would." There 
 was a coolness and deliberateness about the 
 man that frenzied the girl, whose nerves 
 were already a-tingle. 
 
 "The boasted chivalry of the Irish 
 gentleman and the British officer fades 
 away when put to the trial," she laughed. 
 
 "You do both the Irish gentleman, and 
 the British officer, grave injustice, Miss 
 Towneshend. You have in your posses- 
 sion information of the utmost importance 
 to the enemy, which it is my duty to pre- 
 vent from coming into their hands," he 
 replied. 
 
 Swiftly the girl took another tack ; there 
 was pleading in her voice. "Let me go," 
 she cried. "Can't you see oh, let me 
 go." She spoke eagerly and fast, her 
 voice trembling, her cheeks on fire. He 
 thought her the loveliest thing earth held 
 and a mad impulse swept over him to 
 take her in his arms, and give everything 
 she asked. The next moment he felt 
 stranded and sickened at the thought. 
 
 "You put me to a cruel test. If my 
 love for you, Miss Towneshend, was one 
 189
 
 D'AKCY of the GUARDS 
 
 whit less true or honest, I'd bid you go, 
 and claim the reward of my dishonor. 
 But I can't, I can't," he cried, desperately. 
 "Give me your word that you will not 
 leave this house to-night, or communicate 
 to any other person the information which 
 you possess, and I will not restrain you." 
 
 He took a step forward, and she felt as 
 if her legs would give way ; she leaned on 
 the table, and her hand touched some- 
 thing. Involuntarily she grasped it ; her 
 hand closed around the handle familiarly. 
 "No," she cried, "and Major D'Arcy," 
 she added firmly, pulling back the trigger 
 of the pistol, "you will prevent my pass- 
 ing at your peril." 
 
 He could see that she knew the 
 weapon's use. "I would prefer it so," he 
 replied, quite simply, and stepped toward 
 her. 
 
 "I warn you!" cried Pamela, stepping 
 back a pace and raising her arm. 
 
 "You cannot leave this room," he said, 
 and his eye ran along the shining barrel 
 in her hand. She saw the eye with a half 
 smile in it, and lower down the firm, 
 relentless mouth and she fired. He 
 190
 
 MAJOR D'AECY is SURPRISED 
 
 seemed to swing as if on a pivot, then, 
 with a cry, pitched forward on the floor, 
 the candlestick flying from his hand to a 
 farther corner of the room. 
 
 Pamela stood dazed and stunned by the 
 reverberation ; the smoke drifted, and she 
 saw him lying there, senseless dead? 
 With a cry she threw herself by his side, 
 and raised his head. "He's dead; I've 
 killed him," she said to Cynthia, who 
 had entered silently, and knelt with her, 
 horror-stricken. 
 
 "Quick, Pamela, you must go; Sambo 
 has the mare at the back gate." 
 
 "Go!" gasped Pamela. "I can't leave 
 him. Jack! Jack!" she moaned. 
 
 "There is some one coming," whispered 
 Cynthia, hoarsely, staggering up, and 
 pulling at Pamela. "Go, go, for Heaven's 
 sake, or everything is lost." She half 
 dragged the girl to her feet, across the 
 room, and shoved her through the door. 
 A second later, Gregory, his clothes all 
 disordered, burst into the room. 
 
 "What is it? Who is hurt?" 
 
 "Major D'Arcy," said Cynthia. 
 
 Then he saw him lying there, sprawled 
 191
 
 D'AKCY of the GUARDS 
 
 out, inanimate. Stooping quickly, he 
 took him in his arms. 
 
 "Jack, Jack! My God, Jack, speak to 
 me!" cried the old man, piteously. 
 
 But D'Arcy didn't answer. 
 
 193
 
 CHAPTEE XVI 
 
 PAMELA TAKES TO THE ROAD 
 
 Pamela groped her way along the hall, 
 as if she were traversing the intricacies of 
 some unfamiliar maze. Her feet were 
 leaden, and every limb seemed in perverse 
 revolt against her hideous retreat. She 
 was possessed by the full horror of the 
 thing, and every sense seemed numb. At 
 the farther end a candle burned dimly, 
 and, halting unsteadily for a moment, she 
 snatched a fur tippet from the rack, and a 
 hood, instinctively, with no mental pre- 
 science of the bitter night without. As 
 she passed out, the frosty air gave her a 
 stinging welcome, and the blood rushed to 
 her paled cheeks; she felt revivified, and 
 seeing the beams of Sambo's lantern 
 sprinkling through the hedge, she hurried 
 forward, will once more dominating. The 
 old darky, snuggled closely in a great- 
 coat, was coaxing the restive mare, in a 
 low voice, when she appeared. He noticed 
 193
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 her bare hands, and forced his own huge 
 mittens on her; an instant later her leg 
 gripped the saddle-horn, and with a last 
 hurried, whispered message for Cynthia, 
 about her mother, she was off. 
 
 The road was an open book to her. 
 Every hollow, every hill, every side-lane 
 and by-path, belonged to her memory 
 from childhood ; and there was no uncer- 
 tainty in her mind when she turned into 
 the fields, after a racing mile that had set 
 the reluctant blood chasing through her, 
 and had communicated some of the mare's 
 buoyant mettle to her own jaded senses. 
 Her hand grew firmer on the rein, vision 
 came to her eyes, and most blessed of all, 
 that raging memory was subdued; the 
 night enveloped her and seemed to sub- 
 merge her tiny emotions and- raw con- 
 sciousness in its mighty infiniteness. The 
 precaution of taking to the frozen furrows 
 showed that her mind was alert, for, not a 
 quarter of a mile beyond, a small outpost 
 barred the road. Further on she took to 
 the main path again, and the mad gallop 
 was resumed. A blazing fire, with 
 shadowy figures about, far ahead, twisted 
 194
 
 PAMELA TAKES to the ROAD 
 
 her aside once more, and she came out on 
 the hillroad, the river twining blackly 
 beneath her, and the journey nearly half 
 over. 
 
 On and on they sped. Brown Bess, too, 
 caught the spirit of the perilous adven- 
 ture, and spurned the miles with every 
 moment faster flying hoofs. Trees, with 
 winter-blasted branches, seemed to beseech 
 them to tarry, but on they hurried; grim, 
 tight, shuttered houses, mocked at then- 
 haste, but they heeded not; the sluggish 
 river rolled on, with its freight of grind- 
 ing ice, and showed no interest in the 
 race, while the twinkling stars, only, 
 speeded them on cheerily. Even the com- 
 fort they yielded, was denied, when they 
 entered the jealous blackness of a wood, 
 where only dimmest shadows kept them 
 company, and stealthy midnight noises 
 met their approach and again sounded in 
 their rear. At last, they left the open 
 for good, and were embraced by the 
 impenetrable gloom of the forest. The 
 mare was reined in to an impatient and 
 fretful walk, while the girl leaned for- 
 ward, and peered into the darkness. 
 
 195
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 There was no sound save Bess's iron 
 stamp on the frozen ground, and for a 
 mile or more they walked, then, of a 
 sudden, a shrill whistle split the air in 
 front of them. Pamela heard the break- 
 ing of twigs and the rustle of bushes; 
 with tight-held breath, she waited, the 
 mare curbed in firmly; they must be 
 friends there, she felt, and took the 
 chance. 
 
 A muffled group was soon about her, 
 and hands held the bridle. She could 
 distinguish neither face nor uniform, but 
 she saw bayonets, and knew they were 
 soldiery, and their voices proclaimed them 
 friends. As for the picket, when they 
 discovered the cloaked figure to be a girl, 
 and heard that her errand was to head- 
 quarters, vigilance gave way to courtesy, 
 and she was hurried on, with a guard of 
 honor, to her journey's end. 
 
 The hour was one, and the camp slept 
 as they passed among its numberless rows 
 of tents and huts; fires burned brightly, 
 here and there, and guardian sentries 
 questioned their approach, only to give way 
 before the whispered countersign. At last, 
 196
 
 PAMELA TAKES to the ROAD 
 
 they halted before the door of a log house 
 larger than those they had passed, and 
 with tell-tale rays of light stealing from 
 behind closely-curtained windows, to show 
 that the inmates were not abed. A 
 sounding rap brought the door open, and 
 there were whisperings with the guard. 
 Then the portal was closed, and they all 
 stood silent; the girl shivering above 
 them, while the mare, with steaming 
 flanks, pounded restlessly. The door was 
 flung wide again, after an interminable 
 wait, and a man stepped toward her, his 
 sword and spurs clanking as he walked. 
 He stood beside her, and spoke, and she 
 reeled in the saddle. 
 
 "Ned!" she cried, and he had her in 
 his arms. 
 
 She was conscious of being borne 
 tenderly into the warmth of a lighted 
 room, then all was blank. When she 
 came to, her brother was kneeling at her 
 side, gently chafing the frosted hands, 
 and another, she thought the biggest 
 man she had ever seen, was standing by. 
 He spoke gently, in a low voice, and in 
 answer she heard her brother call him 
 197
 
 D'ABCY of the GUARDS 
 
 "General.'* Then thought came with a 
 rush ; she sat up quickly. 
 
 "What is the hour?" she asked. 
 
 "After one," answered Ned. "Have 
 you news?" he said. 
 
 "News?" she burst out. "They are 
 starting now!" 
 
 "They?" cried her brother. 
 
 "The British," she answered, and fol- 
 lowed with the tale, but with no mention 
 of that sprawling figure on the floor of the 
 book -room ; she had shoved the picture of 
 that into the furthest corner of her 
 memory, and now, breathlessly, told only 
 of the plan. The tall man hung on every 
 word, his eyes bent on her in grave 
 scrutiny. By the time she had finished, 
 he had stepped quickly to a table littered 
 with papers, and taking a quill, wrote 
 rapidly, turning once to question her. 
 Then Ned hurriedly left the room. 
 
 The big man once more stood by her ; 
 he seemed to tower in his height, and she 
 noticed the great size of his hands, and 
 booted feet, while wonder possessed her at 
 his gentleness. He spoke of finding her 
 comfortable accommodations for the night, 
 198
 
 PAMELA TAKES to the ROAD 
 
 but she begged him the privilege of sit- 
 ting by the fire, there; the night had a 
 thousand terrors for her, that had sprung 
 to life since her brother's strong arms had 
 held her, and she knew she could not 
 stand the strain of a strange, lonely room 
 and bed. The General yielded, gently, as 
 he would to a child, and soothed her. 
 Before many moments had passed, Ned 
 was back, with several others, who looked 
 curiously at the girl, but who were soon 
 listening intently to the quick, low voice 
 of the General. Ned was once more by 
 her side, as they talked, holding her hand, 
 speaking tenderly. 
 
 "Who is he?" she asked, with eyes 
 directed to the tall, blue-coated figure. 
 
 "The General," answered Ned. 
 
 "What General?" she asked. 
 
 "Washington," he whispered, and 
 turned from her, as his own name was 
 called. 
 
 The hum of voices, and the heat of the 
 fire, drowsed her, and she dozed off, not 
 waking even at the far-off roll of drums, 
 that sounded. Indeed, heart and brain- 
 weary as she was, it was not till late that 
 199
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 she awoke; then the crash of musketry 
 roused her sluggard senses, and the deep- 
 toned roar of artillery brought her to her 
 feet, wide-eyed. She stumbled to the 
 window, but it was still black without; 
 once, in a brief interval of silence, she 
 heard shouts, to be followed once more by 
 the dreadful crash and roar, a fearful 
 cacophony, that seemed to split the night 
 in twain. She huddled once more before 
 the dying embers, and drew the cloak 
 tightly about her. His cloak, she thought, 
 with a shudder ; and memory, pried open 
 once more, spread before her mind's eye 
 the horrid scene: the red coat, spattered 
 with life's red, the pale face, the clenched 
 hands oh, the horror of it! She could 
 have screamed in terror, but the hideous 
 noise overpowered her ; it seemed growing 
 faster, louder, nearer. She did scream, 
 but no sound came, and again : then life 
 seemed to drop away from her, and she 
 was still. 
 
 She was lying outstretched on a skin- 
 covered pallet, when her eyes opened next. 
 She could hear the crackling of a freshly- 
 piled fire, and the cold, gray light of the 
 200
 
 PAMELA TAKES to the ROAD 
 
 early winter morning, drifting through 
 the frosted panes, showed her brother, 
 standing by the hissing logs. She spoke 
 weakly, and he sprang to her side, his 
 blackened face lit joyously. 
 
 "We've won!" he cried. 
 
 "Won?" she said, weakly. 
 
 "Driven 'em back, with hundreds dead 
 and prisoners." His voice was full of 
 high elation, and his bloodshot eyes still 
 gleamed with the battle fever. "And it's 
 all your doing, sis, dear; all your doing." 
 
 The color mounted slowly to her 
 cheeks, but she had no feeling of joy. 
 What of it? she thought, and smarting 
 memory dragged her back a thousand 
 years, it seemed; but still terribly, 
 horribly vivid. 
 
 The big General entered soon after, and 
 her blood did quicken at his words. 
 "Mistress Towneshend," he said, "we 
 have good cause to be thankful to the 
 Towneshend family this morning. Your 
 pluck has saved us from a great calamity, 
 and your brother has performed prodigies. " 
 He placed his hand on the young man's 
 shoulder, and she could see Ned blushing 
 201
 
 furiously. He spoke further, but her 
 interest faded. 
 
 They breakfasted together, but she was 
 silent, only intent on the hour when she 
 should start on the backward journey. 
 No persuasion would keep her in the 
 camp another night, and, shortly after 
 dusk, with a small escort of troopers, and 
 her brother at her side, she set out. It 
 was different from the mad scamper of the 
 night before; they took other roads, and 
 felt then* way cautiously. The distance 
 seemed interminable, and Pamela won- 
 dered, dreamily, how she and Bess had 
 covered it and lived. The escort 
 halted about three miles from the town 
 and waited, while Towneshend went for- 
 ward with her alone. Then he, too, 
 turned back, after a thousand dear 
 messages to the loved ones, and a kiss, 
 which she received passively. She had 
 been like stone the whole day, and had 
 bewildered and frightened her brother. 
 He was reassured, however, by the vehe- 
 mence with which she had urged her 
 home-going, but his misgivings rose again, 
 as he was about to leave her.
 
 "I am well, Ned," she said; "don't 
 worry." 
 
 But he did, and watched her canter 
 away out of sight, fearfully. 
 
 She reached the house without further 
 adventure, and a low, discreet whistle 
 brought the devoted Sambo, lantern in 
 hand, hurrying out. He was bursting 
 with a hundred questions, but she brushed 
 his loquacity aside, and fairly ran for the 
 house. The back door was open, and she 
 passed through hurriedly, and to the little 
 sitting-room frequented at night by 
 Cynthia and herself. 
 
 "Pamela!" exclaimed her cousin, as she 
 stood before her, and they were locked in 
 one another's arms. 
 
 "He is is dead?" stammered Pamela, 
 holding her hard at arm's length. 
 
 "No," answered her cousin. 
 
 "Thank God," she said, fervently. 
 
 "He is still unconscious," said Cynthia, 
 "but Dr. Gregory has every hope. Tell 
 me everything." 
 
 "I know nothing," cried Pamela. "I 
 must go to him." 
 
 And, a little later, in answer to a timid 
 203
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 knock, Gregory opened to her, and she 
 stood before him, haggard, pale, and wild- 
 eyed. 
 
 "I can help you," she said, pleadingly. 
 
 "Not with those rings about your pretty 
 eyes, dear," the old man answered, 
 gently. "Rest to-night, and to-morrow 
 we'll see." 
 
 She could have wept, pride was so little 
 a part of her now ; but she stifled back the 
 sobs and crept off to bed, praying for the 
 day. 
 
 204
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 COMPENSATIONS 
 
 The three weeks that followed were try- 
 ing ones for all three. To D'Arcy, lying 
 stretched, with a shattered arm, and torn 
 side, from which the bullet had been 
 extracted ; to Gregory, constant and inde- 
 fatigable in attention, and to the silent, 
 hovering girl. There were desperate 
 moments of pain for all ; then long, still 
 watches, with moaning intervals, while 
 nature grappled with the wounded man, 
 and bore him on, at snail's pace, out of 
 the shadow. 
 
 Side by side, the old Doctor and Pamela 
 waited with their hearts in their mouths. 
 The little tragedy had come to Gregory 
 like a bolt from a clear sky, and though 
 he was too old a campaigner to lose his 
 wits, it had stunned and unnerved him. 
 The lad was the center of his little uni- 
 verse, and to see him laid low, shut the 
 light out of his life. He was completely 
 205
 
 D'ARCY of me GUARDS 
 
 in the dark, too, as to the happening, and 
 that worried him. For a wild moment, 
 that night, he had thought of Dacier, but 
 common sense and later reports dispelled 
 that. Cynthia had told him of hearing 
 the shot, and rushing in to find D'Arcy 
 on the floor. He could get nothing else 
 from her. Was there anything else to 
 get? He didn't know. D'Arcy himself 
 could not speak, and he had finally to 
 give up surmise and wait. Cynthia told 
 him, further, that her cousin was ill, and 
 her appearance the next night, tapping at 
 the door, bore this out. Indeed, it was 
 only the girl's resistless supplication that 
 gained her admittance. He was afraid of 
 having two invalids on his hands. But he 
 became accustomed, after a day or so, to 
 the quiet, tireless figure, that glided 
 noiselessly in and out on sick-room 
 errands, and after a fortnight she had 
 made herself indispensable to him, and the 
 wounded Guardsman, too. 
 
 D'Arcy watched her for days, as if in a 
 
 dream. Then, summoning courage, he 
 
 questioned Gregory, and the color came 
 
 and went in his pale cheeks when he was 
 
 206
 
 COMPENSATIONS 
 
 told that Pamela had been waiting on 
 him day and night. He said nothing, 
 but there was no pleasure in his thoughts. 
 They were alone in the room, at times, for 
 hours, he pretending the deepest sleep, 
 while often in an agony for water, a 
 change of position, or one of the hundred 
 of a sick man's needs. Anything could be 
 borne but her pitying ministrations ; and 
 still, the room seemed bare, uncomfort- 
 able, and colorless to him when it lacked 
 her presence. 
 
 Never had she seemed so near and 
 familiar to him, and yet separated by 
 such immeasurable distances. As the 
 days dragged on, this far-away familiarity 
 grew into a tantalizing but dear inti- 
 macy. Through half -closed lids, when 
 she was unaware, he studied and doted on 
 every line and bend of her supple figure, 
 watched her quick, simple movements, her 
 mass of brown hair, sometimes wayward 
 and astray, but oftener cabined by the 
 daintiest of caps, and, once or thrice, 
 she set his heart pumping by a flash of 
 eyes. And this woman, the woman of all 
 women for him, who had scorned his 
 207
 
 D'ARCY of tU GUARDS 
 
 love, who, when he had stood in her 
 path, had stricken him down wrathfully, 
 now succored and tenderly served him. 
 "Through what?" he asked himself, a 
 hundred times, to receive but the one 
 answer, that always set him writhing: 
 "Pity!" Such was the value of the 
 young gentleman's worldly experience. 
 
 And through the weary days, Pamela 
 was battling, too. She had mighty fortifi- 
 cations of pride and maidenly reserve, but 
 gradually they were reduced, one after 
 another, by the steady, persistent on- 
 slaughts of remorse, and that subtle engine 
 of siege: love. Capitulation was delayed 
 time and again, but at last complete sur- 
 render came in confession to herself : the 
 hardest task ; and once the humiliation of 
 it was tasted to the full, she winged to 
 heights that dropped the world dizzily 
 beneath, and a beatified, tremulous con- 
 tent was hers; a content that turned to 
 torment, however, ere she had fairly 
 grasped it. She fell a victim to the 
 inexorable law of compensation, and the 
 hapless D'Arcy, all unconsciously, was 
 avenged. 
 
 208
 
 COMPENSATIONS 
 
 It fell out in a simple way, and was the 
 cause of long days and nights of delicious 
 agony. The fourth week of the young 
 Irishman's bed-ridden existence was drift- 
 ing by, when one morning Pamela 
 noticed for the first time, on his dressing- 
 table, a tiny, exquisite miniature. It was 
 conspicuous enough in its tarnished, gilded 
 frame, among the table's load of silver, 
 but it had never caught her eye before. 
 She took it in her hand, curiously, with 
 no misgiving, and from that moment, 
 content was banished, and her heart ached 
 dully for many a long day. Never, she 
 thought, had she seen so beautiful a face 
 as that delicately painted one, which 
 looked at her quite frankly, with great, 
 winsome blue eyes; the hair was high, in 
 puffy rolls, powdered, and with a white 
 plume ; the gleam of neck, through fur, 
 was a further beauty; the whole effect 
 ravishing, and she put the picture down, 
 a jealous woman. If she took it tip once 
 during the day, she took it up fifty times, 
 and that was the torture of the succeeding 
 days. At nights she dreamed of it, and 
 waking, the merry eyes and smiling lips 
 209
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 mocked her every moment. It became a 
 dreadful, hateful nemesis, and she loathed 
 it, though it had a compelling fascination. 
 She knew Gregory could enlighten her, 
 but she shrank from asking, though the 
 question trembled on her lips a dozen 
 times. Tantalizing ignorance was better 
 than a knowledge that might mean, she 
 dreaded to think what. 
 
 And so the two self-tortured young 
 people passed through a grim five weeks ; 
 neither one guessing the other's secret; 
 and both oblivious to the fact that one 
 other possessed both. Gregory, with the 
 aid of his solitary evening pipes, and the 
 previous knowledge he had of D'Arcy's 
 condition, had caught the drift of affairs, 
 and dreaded the coming convalescence, 
 which was at hand. In fact, it came 
 sooner than he had dared to hope, and his 
 patient was soon clamoring to be let upon 
 his feet. 
 
 It was a bitter day, near the end of 
 February, when that notable event at 
 last took place. Very pale and very 
 weak, wrapped in his gorgeous dressing- 
 gown on which his arm, slung in black 
 210
 
 COMPENSATIONS 
 
 silk, rested like a blot and leaning 
 heavily on his old friend, he shuffled into 
 the big, bright, cosy sitting-room, where 
 a huge fire crackled a welcome to him, 
 and the sunbeams danced merrily at his 
 approach. He was as irritable as an old 
 cat, but Gregory bore with him gently, in 
 fact rather liked it as a sign of returning 
 spirits. 
 
 "Damn it, Greg, don't be so careful; 
 I'm not going to break," he growled. 
 
 "Sit here, by the fire, boy," answered 
 the old man, letting him drop gently into 
 a great chair that was placed directly in 
 front of the blaze. "Some one has evi- 
 dently prepared against your coming," he 
 added, with a twinkle, and pushing the 
 footstool a trifle nearer. 
 
 "Oh, you and she both coddle me like a 
 child," said D'Arcy. "I won't have it, 
 Greg," he flung out, angrily. 
 
 "Tell Miss Towneshend that yourself," 
 rejoined Gregory. "It will be a very 
 gracious way of thanking her for her 
 services. And I, myself, will trouble no 
 more about you," added the old man, 
 huffily. 
 
 211
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 "I'm a beast, Greg; forgive me," 
 answered the youngster, "but it's hard, 
 damned hard." 
 
 "Of course, it's hard, lad, but we've 
 pulled you through," said the other, 
 gently. 
 
 "Yes, you've pulled me through, but 
 I'd rather have stopped at the other end. 
 You know, I'll never use it again," said 
 D'Arcy, piteously, pointing to the arm 
 that hung helpless. 
 
 "You want to be thankful I didn't take 
 it off," answered the doctor, forcing his 
 gaiety. 
 
 "I don't want to be, and I'm not. To 
 think that that good right hand that has 
 served me so well," he went on, "will 
 never grasp sword-hilt or press trigger 
 again. But I'll shoot with the left, Greg, 
 and will show him a rapier can be handled 
 well enough on the other side." 
 
 "Show who?" exclaimed Gregory, won- 
 dering if the lad had gone out of his head. 
 "What are you talking about, man?" 
 
 "That blackguard, Dacier," answered 
 D'Arcy. "You remember that night, he 
 dared to speak of her." 
 212
 
 COMPENSATIONS 
 
 "Surely I told you, Jack," said the 
 old man, gently. 
 
 "Told me what?" 
 
 "About Dacier." 
 
 "You told me nothing." 
 
 "He was killed in the first charge that 
 awful morning." 
 
 "Killed!" cried D'Arcy. 
 
 "And Farquhar, too," added the doctor. 
 
 "Poor boys," said the Irishman, his 
 head drooping. "God rest their souls." 
 
 This was the first of many similar morn- 
 ings, and patient, doctor and nurse left 
 the sick-room behind with gay hearts. 
 The sunny sitting-room, where they now 
 foregathered, warmed them all, after the 
 chill days of fever and worry. Pamela 
 was still haunted miserably by the laugh- 
 ing face of a gracious dame in high, 
 powdered coiffure, and D'Arcy bore a 
 gnawing pain that was not in his arm, 
 while old Gregory watched, waited, and 
 felt for them both. 
 
 213
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 TWO THAT WOULDN'T SEE 
 
 The old Quaker town held high revel. 
 Gaming, feasting, and dancing appealed 
 more to the doughty Sir William Howe, 
 than winter campaigning, and annihilation 
 of the enemy was postponed till spring. 
 There were a few who fretted at the dalli- 
 ance, but it was a gay little army of occu- 
 pation, and dull care and mordant 
 memories fled before their festivities. 
 The galling disappointment of their sharp 
 repulse at Valley Forge was the talk for 
 nine days, of mess-room and barracks, but 
 it was an optimistic little army, too, and 
 not easily ruffled. The end of the 
 rebellion, in their minds, was simply post- 
 poned till the frost had left the ground, 
 then horrid retribution was to follow swiftly 
 on their path, and His Majesty's enemies 
 were to be smitten from the earth's face. 
 
 The news of their favorite's recovery 
 spread through the town, and not a day 
 215
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 passed but D'Arcy held a small levee. 
 Young officers and old crowded his sunny 
 sitting-room, and only left when the 
 watchful Gregory turned them out; Sir 
 William and the Earl of Cornwallis, too, 
 called and congratulated him on his con- 
 valescence. There were many question- 
 ings as to the cause of his accident, but no 
 suspicion was aroused by his vague tale of 
 a pistol's careless handling. Only his 
 lynx-eyed old friend thought that there 
 were things left untold. It was late one 
 winter's afternoon, when they were sitting 
 together alone in the dusk, that the old 
 man, for the first time, ventured to probe 
 into the mystery. 
 
 "Tell me, Jack," he said, "how did it 
 happen? You've never given any decent 
 account of it." 
 
 "I have no decent account to give," 
 answered D'Arcy, leaning forward with 
 tongs, to lift a recalcitrant log into the 
 blaze. "I stopped at the gate to talk with 
 Dalrymple for a moment, and then came 
 back to the house." 
 
 "Yes," interrupted Gregory, quickly, 
 "and you found her there?" 
 216
 
 TWO that WOULDN'T SEE 
 
 "I found no one there," replied the 
 Irishman, not turning a hair. 
 
 "Oh, I thought you did," said Gregory, 
 puffing clouds, and seeing that it was no 
 easy matter to get through his friend's 
 guard. "Go on," he added. 
 
 "Well, I walked over to the table," 
 went on D'Arcy, deliberately, settling 
 back in his chair, "put down the candle, 
 and picked up one of the pistols. And 
 somehow or other, the damned thing went 
 off." 
 
 "Did you pick it up with your left 
 hand?" questioned the doctor, quietly. 
 
 "How the devil do I know which hand 
 I picked it up with?" answered the young 
 man, pettishly, having recourse to the 
 tongs again. 
 
 "That's what I would like to know," 
 replied Gregory, 'drily. "How the devil 
 could you know?" 
 
 "I picked it up with my right hand," 
 snapped out D'Arcy, getting angry. 
 
 "And it went off?" said the old man. 
 
 "That's what I said." 
 
 "Then how did it happen to hit you in 
 the right arm and side?" There was too 
 217
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 much of the pride of the successful cross- 
 examiner in Gregory's voice, and D'Arcy 
 turned on him, furiously. 
 
 "I will not be cross-examined and 
 bullied, Greg," he cried. "It's unkind 
 of you. I tell you, it went off, and that's 
 all I know about it." 
 
 Fortunately, at that moment came a 
 familiar tap at the door, and Gregory 
 opened it to Pamela. D'Arcy tried 
 eagerly to rise, but she motioned him not. 
 
 "You must not move, Major," she said. 
 "I've brought you your broth." She 
 handed him a snowy napkin, and the 
 steaming, savory bowl. 
 
 "Thanks," he said. "You take too 
 much trouble for a well man. I am get- 
 ting quite myself." 
 
 "He'll soon be defying us both, Doc- 
 tor," she answered, gaily, turning to 
 Gregory. 
 
 "Yes, he'd dispense with us now, if he 
 could," grunted Gregory, and then, seized 
 by some perverse inspiration, he added, 
 "He has just been telling me how the 
 accident happened." 
 
 Luckily for the girl, the friendly dusk 
 218
 
 shadowed her paled cheeks and involun- 
 tary start, and there was no sign of trepi- 
 dation in her cool, "Indeed?" 
 
 "Yes," went on the doctor, "and I 
 can't, for the life of me, see how he did 
 it, unless he was trying to commit sui- 
 cide, " he added, jocosely. 
 
 She had herself well in hand now, and 
 replied in the same mood, "The Major is 
 too good a shot to have bungled it, if 
 that was what he was trying to do." 
 
 "For heaven's sake, Greg, shut up," 
 interposed D'Arcy. "Miss Towneshend 
 has had trials enough the last five or six 
 weeks, without being bothered further 
 about the stupid business." 
 
 "I'm mum," rejoined the doctor. 
 
 And a few moments later Pamela de- 
 parted, tremblingly, thankful for D'Arcy's 
 interposition. 
 
 "She's a goddess, Greg," murmured the 
 youngster, as the door closed behind her. 
 
 "I beg to differ with you, Jack," said 
 the old man, seating himself again. "I 
 think she's human, and very much of a 
 woman." 
 
 "Ah, you old misogynist ! "What do you 
 219
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 know about the sex, and what do you 
 care?" laughed D'Arcy. 
 
 "I know more about this particular 
 young lady than you may imagine." 
 
 "And, pray, what do you know?" 
 
 "That she's very much in love with a 
 friend of mine, named Jack D'Arcy." 
 
 "Are you mocking me, Greg, or are you 
 mad?" cried the Irishman, springing to 
 his feet, and turning on the old man. 
 
 "Neither, may it please your worship." 
 
 "I thought you'd have had more sense 
 than to have imagined such a thing." 
 
 "Why has the young person been flutter- 
 ing about you for the past two months, if 
 she hasn't designs on you?" asked 
 Gregory, coolly. 
 
 "It's pity, Greg, pity," said the other, 
 bitterly, and then he added, stiffly, 
 "Please don't speak of her to me as a 
 young person." 
 
 "A thousand pardons. And what is it 
 they say pity is akin to?" 
 
 D'Arcy turned a pitiable face to him. 
 
 "Don't, Greg, don't," he cried, "I can't 
 
 bear it. Can't you see it's breaking my 
 
 heart, man. She gives me pity and 
 
 220
 
 TWO that WOULDN'T SEE 
 
 tenderness, as she'd give it to a child, or 
 some other broken, worthless thing, such 
 as I. But her lore ! She'll keep that for 
 a man ; a man who can guard and shield 
 her with his good right arm." 
 
 All the pent-up anguish in the man's 
 heart burst forth in this little speech, and 
 brought tears to the old man's eyes. 
 
 "God forbid, Jack," he said, "that I 
 should ever think the calumny you breathe 
 against her." 
 
 "It's no calumny," cried D'Arcy. 
 "Do you think any blame attaches to her? 
 Do you think I snivel because, angel that 
 she is, she doesn't see fit to fall in love 
 with a piece of a man?" 
 
 "I think you're working yourself in- 
 to a very harmful state of excitement, 
 that's what I think. Sit down." He 
 was alarmed at the other's quiet intensity. 
 
 "Curse it, Greg," went on the young 
 man, "would you have me take it like a 
 stone image? I shall sail for England as 
 soon as I'm able to put foot aboard ship, 
 and what has life for me there? It'll be 
 ashes in my mouth." 
 
 "And all because you were careless in 
 221
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 handling a pistol," Gregory couldn't help 
 saying. D'Arcy made no answer, but 
 turned savagely on the fire. The old man 
 watched him silently for a few moments, 
 then spoke again. "See here, Jack, 
 what's the use of ruining your happiness 
 for the sake of an idea?" he asked. 
 
 "Don't talk like a philosophical trea- 
 tise," was the rejoinder. "What do you 
 mean?" 
 
 "I mean that your beastly pride has 
 choked the common sense out of you. 
 Give the girl a chance." 
 
 "Would you have me crawl to her like a 
 crippled beggar, and try to work on her 
 sympathies?" sneered D'Arcy. 
 
 "Perhaps your potential lordship would 
 prefer to have the lady make the ad- 
 vances," was the reply. 
 
 "Greg, you'll drive me mad with your 
 folly. What have I to give her? How on 
 earth could I dare to hope to make her 
 happy? I'm a wreck of a man, and no fit 
 mate for her likes." 
 
 "Nonsense," said the old man, bound 
 to make his impression. "You'll be as 
 strong as ever you were, in a month. 
 222
 
 TWO that WOULDN'T SEE 
 
 And as for what you have to give her, a 
 pretty estate and an old name are not to 
 be snuffed at, even by a little American 
 rebel. There is many a London dame 
 who would jump at the chance of being 
 My Lady D'Arcy." 
 
 "I can't agree with you, Greg, and what 
 you suggest is impossible. You don't 
 understand women as I do, old man, 
 and, therefore, there is no use of talking 
 about it further." There was the note of 
 finality in his voice, and Gregory drew off 
 from the attack. 
 
 "As you please, Jack," he acquiesced, 
 and withdrew his forces in good order, 
 with full determination to renew the 
 attack in another quarter. 
 
 Opportunity was shy for a day or two, 
 during which time D'Arcy talked con- 
 stantly of his immediate return to Eng- 
 land. The old man knew that it would 
 be impossible to detain him much longer, 
 and he was resolved to appeal to Pamela. 
 He chanced upon her quite by accident, 
 one morning on his way out, in the book- 
 room, and decided to speak plainly at 
 once. 
 
 223
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 "Miss Towneshend," he said, "I want 
 to speak with you about Major D'Arcy. " 
 
 "He is not so well?" she asked, anx- 
 iously, the color mounting in her cheeks. 
 
 "He is not well at all," went on 
 Gregory, bluntly, "and next week he 
 proposes to sail for England." 
 
 "For England?" she faltered, blankly. 
 "He is going back you think him unable 
 to stand the voyage?" 
 
 "Under certain conditions it would do 
 him good," answered the doctor, fully 
 conscious that he had filled the girl with 
 consternation. 
 
 "And will he not go under the most 
 favorable conditions?" 
 
 "That depends entirely upon you, Miss 
 Towneshend," he replied, deliberately. 
 
 "Upon me? I don't understand." 
 
 "Miss Towneshend," said the old man, 
 gently enough, "women can wound in 
 more ways than one ; and a bullet wound 
 is not necessarily the most dangerous 
 thing that can befall a man." 
 
 "You are talking riddles," stammered 
 Pamela, faintly. 
 
 "I will speak plainly," he said. "Jack 
 224
 
 TWO that WOULDN'T SEE 
 
 D'Arcy has entirely recovered fromt he ill 
 effects of his shattered arm, but a very 
 dangerous malady has him in its clutches. " 
 
 "What?" she cried. 
 
 "Love-sickness," answered Gregory. 
 
 "Captain Gregory, are you trying to 
 make merry at my expense?" 
 
 "Nothing could be further from my 
 thought, Miss Towneshend," he said, 
 kindly. "I speak only because Jack 
 D'Arcy's happiness is a dear thing to me. 
 I have known him, as lad and man, these 
 twenty years, and I can't stand by to see 
 his life broken simply on account of a 
 misunderstanding. " 
 
 "A misunderstanding?" she quavered. 
 
 "Just that. The man is mad in love 
 with you, and has been, ever since the 
 first day he set foot in your gardens, 
 yonder." 
 
 She smiled sadly, tolerantly, at the old 
 man's folly. "Captain Gregory," she 
 said, "you speak from the heart, I know; 
 out of the fullness of your wish for your 
 friend's happiness. But you are utterly 
 mistaken in your idea. He does not love 
 me; he despises me." These words were 
 225
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 flung from her, with a vehemence that 
 startled him. 
 
 "Despise you!" he cried. "Miss 
 Towneshend, are you in your right 
 senses?" 
 
 "Ah, you can't mislead a woman in 
 such a matter," she replied, more quietly. 
 "Major D'Arcy may have had a passing 
 fancy once; but you don't know all, you 
 don't know all. He can never love me." 
 There were tears in her voice, but they 
 made no impression on the old man, who 
 was simply irritated. 
 
 "I tell you, I know what I'm talking 
 about," he said. 
 
 "Did he send you to me?" she asked. 
 
 "No," Gregory replied, eagerly. "He 
 said there was no use." 
 
 "And he was right." 
 
 "Don't you care for him?" spluttered 
 the doctor, fast losing self-control, "for, if 
 you don't, I'm an old simpleton." 
 
 "I have made no pretense of not caring 
 for him," said Pamela, in a low voice, 
 with down-bent eyes. 
 
 "And yet the young fool says it's only 
 sympathy. Bah ! ' ' ejaculated the old man. 
 326
 
 TWO that WOULDN'T SEE 
 
 "He has a chivalrous regard for my 
 feelings," she answered. 
 
 "My dear young lady, can't you see?" 
 he questioned, testily. The perversity of 
 the two was slowly, but surely, delivering 
 him into the hands of his temper. Her 
 answer was almost all that was needed. 
 
 "We women do not see in such matters. 
 We feel," she said. "A woman's heart 
 tells truth." 
 
 "Rubbish! Miss Towneshend, pure rub- 
 bish. You've been reading too much of 
 Mr. Richardson," he retorted. 
 
 She saw that he was mightily put out 
 and annoyed, and she offered him her 
 hand. "Captain Gregory," she said, 
 "you've been very kind, but I am afraid 
 your wishes father your thoughts. I 
 thank you from the bottom of my heart, 
 but I know it can never be." 
 
 He hardly heard her ; he only knew that 
 a malign waywardness seemed to possess 
 these young people, and that they were 
 determined to shut the door on then* own 
 happiness. It was unbearable, and choler 
 at last bested him. 
 
 "I will not stay here to be so abominably 
 227
 
 D'AKCY of the GUAEDS 
 
 misunderstood," he cried. "You are 
 both a pah* of blind young idiots, and I 
 wash my hands of the whole thing." 
 
 He swung his cloak about him vio- 
 lently and made for the door, poor 
 Pamela standing amazed. He turned 
 before leaving, and was about to speak, 
 but thinking better of it, bowed and made 
 exit; his muttered "Oh, damn!" floating 
 back behind him. 
 
 The girl was all of a tremble and would 
 have dissolved, if it had not been for the 
 memory of, a pair of dancing eyes and 
 cherry lips, that smiled at her from a 
 gilded frame, her unknown rival.
 
 CHAPTEE XIX 
 
 ADJUSTMENTS 
 
 D'Arcy's talk about returning to Eng- 
 land soon developed into preparation. 
 He was daily getting stronger, and would 
 soon be able to stand the journey to New 
 York, where he intended to take passage 
 aboard a frigate that was to sail about the 
 first of March. Gregory kept close- 
 mouthed, and had a painful satisfaction in 
 knowing the punishment that Chance was 
 meting out to two who would not see, 
 but this selfsame Chance was capable of 
 vagaries that even he was unsuspicious of. 
 It decreed pale cheeks and lusterless eyes 
 to the young Irishman, and a broken spirit 
 to the maid, then whirled inconsequently 
 about, and uplifted them both. 
 
 It was a day of queer happenings in the 
 "next week," that had been the burden of 
 D'Arcy's talk of departure. Reports of 
 the preparations had reached Pamela, 
 through Sambo, and she braced herself 
 
 229
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 stoically, though drooping within. The 
 day of broths and special little culinary 
 preparations for the invalid had long since 
 passed, :and they seldom met. She wondered 
 if he would say good-bye; the word 
 sounded like a knell, and she could have 
 prayed to be spared the hearing of it from 
 his lips. But she must see him before 
 he went; that was imperative. He 
 had made no allusion to that terrible 
 night, but she could never rest with 
 the burden of it till she had pleaded 
 for pardon ; that little he might afford to 
 give. 
 
 She arose on the eventful morning, 
 wretchedly wan and tired. Breakfast was 
 an unwelcome obligation, and even 
 Cynthia, who was growing accustomed to 
 a dejected and spiritless Pamela, could not 
 refrain from comment. It passed un- 
 heeded, and only the startling appearance 
 of Sambo, with bulging eyes, drove away 
 the listlessness. 
 
 "Massa Ned's come!" 
 
 "Who?" she cried, springing up. 
 
 "Are you mad, Sambo?" gasped 
 Cynthia. 
 
 230
 
 ADJUSTMENTS 
 
 But his wits were approved that instant 
 by the entrance of the tall young dragoon, 
 who bent a moment later under a loving 
 weight. 
 
 They pelted him with a hundred ques- 
 tions, and wondered at his dress in full 
 uniform. He joked, and teased them 
 gaily ; said that he had come to attack the 
 British single-handed, and much more 
 foolishness to the same effect, but finally 
 told them that he was in under a flag of 
 truce, to negotiate an exchange of pris- 
 oners. The moments were precious, and 
 Pamela sped to her mother, to give 
 warning of his approach, in which was 
 mixed a tender thoughtfulness for the 
 lovers. 
 
 Was it Chance that took her through 
 the book-room? Who can tell? She 
 might have gone the other way around, 
 but didn't ; and as she crossed the thresh- 
 old, she saw him standing before the fire. 
 He was dressed in black, and though his 
 face was as white as the lace at his wrists 
 and neck, he had never seemed so hand- 
 some. His arm hung in a scarlet sling, 
 the one touch of color. Her first instinct 
 231
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 was to withdraw, but he had turned and 
 faced her before she could follow it 
 out. 
 
 "Miss Towneshend," he said, "I have 
 been wishing for just this opportunity. I 
 want to speak to you." 
 
 She felt that the "good-bye" was coin- 
 ing, and her tongue clove to her mouth ; 
 she was icy cold. 
 
 "I can't thank you in words for all 
 you've done for me these last weeks," he 
 added. 
 
 "Don't, Major D'Arcy," cried the girl, 
 painfully. "Don't thank me. Forgive 
 me, if you can, in your heart; but to 
 thank me for what little reparation I have 
 been able to make stings like a blow." 
 
 He looked at her, in wonder. 
 
 "Forgive you, Miss Towneshend. And 
 you speak of reparation? It was the for- 
 tune of war; I abide by it, and," he said, 
 gently, the old light coming into his eyes, 
 "I shall always hold as my sweetest 
 memory the recollection of my lovely 
 opponent." 
 
 "You are magnanimous," was all she 
 could say. 
 
 232
 
 ADJUSTMENTS 
 
 "Magnanimity is a poor gift, from one 
 who is beaten," he answered, quietly. 
 
 "I didn't mean that, believe me, Major 
 D'Arcy," she replied, eagerly. "And if 
 I could do anything, oh, anything, to 
 atone for the cowardly advantage I took of 
 you that night " 
 
 "Pray don't distress yourself, Miss 
 Towneshend. All is fair in in war," he 
 stammered, shrinking from the pit that 
 dreadful other word would have opened be- 
 fore him. "The war-god had his choice 
 between us, and he would have been a churl 
 to have chosen otherwise than as he did." 
 
 "You insist on making light of my 
 offense," she said. 
 
 "The offense, if any, was condoned by 
 the pluck and loyalty that prompted it," 
 spoke the soldier. 
 
 "You are too generous a foe, Major 
 D'Arcy." 
 
 "My reward is in your saying it. It will 
 be some comfort, when I am gone, to 
 know that one 'red-coat' lies gently in 
 your thought." 
 
 "Captain Gregory was right you are 
 going soon?" 
 
 233
 
 D'AECY of the GUARDS 
 
 "Yes, I leave to-morrow." 
 
 "I we shall miss you," said poor 
 Pamela, hardly above a whisper. Some- 
 thing in that whisper brought him a step 
 nearer. Their eyes met steadily, then 
 hers dropped. 
 
 "You will care?" he asked, and hung 
 on her answer. 
 
 "I care more than than I dare to tell," 
 she answered, and he was at her side, 
 taking her unresisting hand. 
 
 "Pamela! It can't be true!" he burst 
 out "Greg can't be right." 
 
 "What did he say?" she asked, a tremor 
 of hope and fear shaking her. 
 
 "That you you loved me. Oh, 
 no, no, no, he couldn't see what I 
 didn't." 
 
 "But he did," said Pamela humbly, 
 and then a great wave of feeling surged 
 through her. This might be her last 
 moment with him. He should know all ; 
 she would give him the opportunity to 
 spurn her; that would be her punish- 
 ment. 
 
 "I love you," she cried, "and I I 
 can't stand your going away." She 
 234
 
 ADJUSTMENTS 
 
 waited for the blow, but his arm was 
 about her, and his kisses were on her 
 cheeks. 
 
 "Oh, it can't be true," she gasped. 
 "Captain Gregory can't be right." 
 
 "What did he say?" asked D'Arcy, 
 radiant. 
 
 "That you loved me still," she 
 answered. 
 
 "He never spoke truer word. I love 
 you, Pamela, heart and soul." 
 
 "But the other," she faltered, unable 
 to believe. 
 
 "What other?" 
 
 "The miniature." 
 
 "What miniature?" 
 
 "On your dressing-table. I I hate 
 her," said Pamela. 
 
 "Oh," laughed the Irishman, his eyes 
 sparkling. "Never, you must love her; 
 she's my mother!" 
 
 Some moments later, she said: "You 
 do forgive me?" 
 
 "Hush!" he replied. "Are yon sure 
 you don't pity me?" 
 
 "Pity you? For what?" 
 
 "For being beaten." 
 235
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 "But you've won," said Pamela. 
 "You've conquered the rebel." 
 
 "Faith, and so I have," replied D'Arcy. 
 "You're my prisoner." 
 
 "For life," said the girl, fondly. And 
 Gregory found them together when he 
 came in later. 
 
 D'Arcy was quite brazen, and reassured 
 the startled girl, nonchalantly: "It's only 
 Greg, Pamela." 
 
 "Oh, it's only Greg, is it?" said the 
 grizzled old giant, looking from one to the 
 other, in blank amazement. 
 
 "May I call you Greg, too?" asked 
 Pamela, stepping to him, timidly. 
 
 "You may call him anything you please, 
 dear. But I call him an old scoundrel, ' ' 
 said D'Arcy. "You dear old rascal, you 
 know more of the sex than I ever sus- 
 pected." 
 
 "Oho," laughed the doctor, "so the two 
 young fools have gotten their eyes open, 
 eh? I congratulate you, Major D'Arcy, 
 and you, Miss Towneshend " 
 
 "Pamela, please," she interposed. 
 "Pamela, my dear," corrected the old 
 man. "Did he crawl to you like a 
 236
 
 ADJUSTMENTS 
 
 crippled beggar; did the fine gentleman 
 pocket his pride, and allow the angel to 
 shine upon him?" 
 
 "Oh, shut up," cried the Irishman. 
 
 "And, Pamela, do you think women's 
 hearts always tell 'em the truth?" 
 
 "What are you talking about?" asked 
 the puzzled D'Arcy. 
 
 "He's being very silly," said Pamela, 
 blushing furiously. 
 
 "Old Greg is not such a fool as he 
 looks, eh?" 
 
 "You're the dearest old Greg in the 
 world," said D'Arcy, and just then there 
 was further interruption, caused by the 
 entrance of Cynthia and Towneshend, 
 who stared in wonderment. 
 
 Pamela darted to Cynthia and kissed 
 her, exclaiming, "Oh, Cynthia, some- 
 thing has happened." She needed to 
 speak no further. D'Arcy was introduc- 
 ing Gregory to the younger officer. 
 
 "I am glad to hear that you are con- 
 valescing, Major," said Towneshend. 
 
 "Yes, Gregory here and your sister 
 have made a new man of me. You are 
 exchanging prisoners?" asked D'Arcy. 
 337
 
 D'ARCY of the GUARDS 
 
 "Yes," said Towneshend, smiling. "A 
 little different from my last visit." 
 
 "Well, Captain," said the Irishman, 
 with his old-time twinkle, "there is one 
 prisoner that cannot be exchanged." 
 
 "Indeed?" was the mystified reply. 
 
 "Yes," said D'Arcy, stepping toward 
 Pamela, and lightly taking her hand, 
 "the fortunes of war have made your 
 sister a prisoner for life, eh, Pamela?" 
 
 "It's so, Ned," she answered, simply, 
 through a mist of tears. "For Life. " 
 
 THE END 

 
 PRINTED BY R. R. DONNELLEY 
 AND SONS COMPANY AT THE 
 LAKESIDE PRESS, CHICAGO, ILL.
 
 DATE DUE
 
 
 . 
 
 000 635 5 1
 
 DArcy of the 
 
 Guards or the