The Continental Dragoon Part 24

"You said, if you could be sure I spoke in earnest. Now you admit you are sure. What then?"

She let her eyes rest on him a moment, without speaking, as he looked ardently and expectantly up at her from his kneeling att.i.tude, while she took in breath, and then she flung her answer at him.

"What then? This! That you are now more contemptible and ridiculous and utterly non-existent, to me, than you have formerly been! That, whatever I may have done which seemed in your behalf, was partly from the strange insanity of which I have spoken, and partly from the most meaningless caprice! That, if you remain here till to-morrow, you may see me in the arms of the man I really love, and that he may not be as careless of the fate of a vagabond rebel as I am. And now, Captain Crayton, or Dayton, or Peyton, or whatever you please, of somebody or other's light horse, go or stay, as you choose; you're as welcome as any other casual pa.s.ser-by, for all the comical figure your impudence has made you cut! Learn modesty, sir, and you may fare better in your next love-making, if you do not aim too high! And that piece of advice is the reward I hinted at! Good night!"

And she whirled from the room, slamming behind her the mahogany door, at which Peyton stared for some seconds, in blank amazement, too overwhelmed to speak or move or breathe or think.

But gradually he came to life, slowly rose, stood for a moment thoughtful, fashioned his brows into a frown, drew his lips back hard, and muttered through his closed teeth:

"I'll stay and fight that man, at least!"

And he sat down by the table, to wait.

CHAPTER XII.

THE CHALLENGE.

A very few moments had elapsed, and Peyton still sat by the table, in a dogged study, when the door from the south hall was opened slightly, and if he had looked he might have seen a pair of eyes peeping through the aperture. But he did not look, either then or when, some seconds later, the door opened wide and Miss Sally bobbed gracefully in.

It has been related how, after her brilliant but exhausting conduct of the important scene a.s.signed her, she sought repose in her room.

Looking out of her window presently, she saw something, of which she thought it advisable to inform Elizabeth. Therefore she came down-stairs. Did she listen at the door to the last part of that notable conversation? Ungallant thought, aroint thee! 'Tis well known women have little curiosity, and what little they have they would not, being of Miss Sally's station in life, descend to gratify by eavesdropping. Let it be a.s.sumed, therefore, that the much vaunted informant, feminine intuition, told Miss Sally of the end of the interview between her niece and the captain, both as to the time of that end and as to its nature.

She entered, tremulous with a vast idea that had blazed suddenly on her mind. Now that Elizabeth was quite through with Peyton, now that Peyton must be low in his self-esteem for Elizabeth's humiliation of him, and therefore likely to be grateful for consolatory attentions, Miss Sally might resume her own hopes. But there was no time to be lost.

"Your pardon, captain," she began, sweetly, with her most flattering smile. "I am looking for Miss Elizabeth."

"She was here awhile ago," replied Peyton, glumly, not bringing his eyes within range of the smile. "She went that way. I trust you've recovered from your attack."

"My attack?" inquiringly, with surprise.

"The queer spell, I think Miss Philipse called it. She said you were subject to them."

"Well, how does she dare--" She checked her tongue, lest she might betray the device for his detention. Something in his absent, careless way of a.s.sociating her with a queer spell irritated her a little for the moment, and impelled her to retaliation. "I suppose that was not the only thing she said to you?" she added, ingenuously.

"No,--she said other things." He rose and went to the fireplace, leaned against the mantel, and gazed pensively at the red embers.

"They don't seem to have left you very cheerful," ventured Miss Sally.

"Not so very d.a.m.ned cheerful!--I beg your pardon."

Miss Sally's moment of resentment had pa.s.sed. Now was the time to strike for herself. She thought she had hit on a clever plan of getting around to the matter.

"Captain," said she, "you're a man of the world. I know it's presumptuous of me to ask it, but--if you would give me a word of advice--"

Peyton did not take his look from the fire, or his thoughts from their dismal absorption. He answered, half-unconsciously:

"Oh, certainly! Anything at all."

"You are aware, of course," she went on, with smirking, rosy confusion, "that Mr. Valentine is a widower."

"Indeed? Oh, yes, yes, I know."

"Yes, a widower twice over."

"How sad! He must feel twice the usual amount of grief."

"Why,--I don't know exactly about that."

"The poor man has my sympathy. Doubtless he is inconsolable." Peyton scarce knew what he was saying, or whom it was about.

"Why, no," said Miss Sally, averting her eyes, with a smiling shyness, "not altogether inconsolable. That's just it."

"Oh, is it?" said Peyton, obliviously.

"You may have noticed that he spends a good deal of time here at present," she went on.

"A good deal of time," he repeated. "There's doubtless some strong attraction."

"Yes. Perhaps I oughtn't to say it, but there _is_ a strong attraction. In fact, he has proposed marriage to me, and now, as a man of the world to a woman of little experience, would you advise me to accept him?"

And she looked at the disconsolate officer so sweetly, it seemed impossible he should do aught but say it would be throwing herself away to bestow on an old man charms of which younger and warmer eyes were sensible. But he answered only:

"Certainly! An excellent match!"

For a time Miss Sally was speechless, yet open-mouthed. And then, for the length of one brief but fiery tirade, she showed herself to be her niece's aunt:

"Sir! The idea! I wouldn't have that old smoke-chimney if he were the last man on earth! I'd have given him his conge long ago, if it hadn't been that he might propose to my friend, the widow Babc.o.c.k! I've only kept him on the string to prevent her getting him. When I want your advice, Captain Peyton, I'll ask for it! Excuse me, I must find Elizabeth. I've news for her."

"News?" he echoed, stupidly.

"Yes. From my chamber window awhile ago I saw some one riding this way on the post-road,--Major Colden!"

And she swept out by the same door that had closed, a few minutes before, on Elizabeth.

"Major Colden!" Peyton's teeth tightened, his eyes shot fire, his hand flew to his sword-hilt, as he spoke the name.

He went to the window, the same window at which Elizabeth had looked out a week ago, and peered through the panes at the night.

"Why, the ground is white," he said. "It has begun to snow."

But, through the large flakes that fell thick and swiftly among the trees, he did not yet see any humankind approaching. His view of the branch road was, at some places, obstructed by tall shrubbery that rose high above the palings and the hedge.

Yet through those flakes, a.s.saulted by them in eyes and nostrils, invaded by them in ears and neck, humankind was riding. It was, indeed, Colden that Miss Sally had seen through a fortuitous opening, which gave, between the trees, a view of the most eminent point of the post-road southward. He was to conduct Elizabeth home the next day, but had availed himself of his opportunity to ride out to the manor-house that night, so as to have the few more hours in her society. He had this time taken an escort of two privates of his own regiment, but these men were not as well mounted as he, and, in his impatience, having seen the best their horses could do, and having pa.s.sed King's Bridge, he had ridden ahead of them, leaving them to follow to the manor-house in their own speediest time. Thus it was that now he bore alone down from the post-road, his horse's feet making on the new-fallen snow no other sound than a soft crunching, scarce louder than its heavy breathing or its mouth-play on the bit, or the creak and clank of saddle, bridle, stirrups, pistols, and scabbard. His eyes dwelt eagerly on the manor-house, where awaited him light and warmth and wine, refuge from the pelting flakes, and, above all else, the joy-giving presence of Elizabeth. His breast expanded, he sighed already with relief; he approached the gate as a released soul, with admission ticket duly purchased by a deathbed repentance, might approach the gate of heaven.