Newspaper Page Text
THE FEOWERS COLW&MUl
Atlanta, Ga., Week Ending April 4, 1903
NUMBER FIVE
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By Hallie Erminie Rives
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
FOR LIFE OR FO*R HONop.
ORE than one along the
south road, that sultry
morning of July Fourth,
turned to gaze after a fair
haired girl who passed
upon a lead-white horse
with a negro boy behind
her a-stfide a sorrel. Yel
low dust splotched Anne's
olive cloak as she rode into
the town, and yellow dust
clung to John-the-Baptist’s
wool.
How many leagues! She.
would have been worn but for the pur
pose that buoyed her up. She rode some
way. paying as little heed to the sparse
groups along the streets or to he few
painted Indians lounging with their pel
try in the squares as to the beetle-bowed
rn'ofs or the wooden statuary in the
pretentious yards.
Her thoughts were busy with the past
—they flew back to that night at Glad
den Hall, her last view of Armand. when
Jarrat's troopers had dragged him away:
lo the flight .of Dunmore and his family,
his wanton burning of Norfolk with hi=
rabble of runaway slaves, and the last
tight at Gwyn's Island whence the im
potent earl, with his brutal aide. Captain
Foy, sailed away to the North, never
again to set foot upon Virginian soil: to
h r anguished wonder as to Armand's
fate meanwhile. Even Henry's leturn
from the -e.'o.id congress, the news that
Colonel Washington had been elected
commander in chief of colonial forces
and the glorious outcome of his long
siege of Boston had not been able to
cheer her.
file thought of the ng hours she had
watch' d by the bedside of the bondwom
an with grave-faced Doctor Craik,
watching her slow return to life. Of
the si ill long?’, days when she had -at
by tlv iistless figure who only stared
it a den-eyed and with brain piteously
dulled, to h ir asked over and over again
with desperate earnestness that same
question—"where is it?" Can't you re-
ok :c.b r V— a question nc 1 always with
same result. Of tii long, fruitless (
search, the unrer,.- on'.r.g faith in him that
would not yield to recital or argument,
and finally the lucky accident which had
given her the clew to the packet's hiding
place.
She had started the self-same day. Ink
ing John-'the-Baptist with her. leaving a
hurried message for her uncle and aunt,
who were then away in Richmond. And
this, the twelfth clay thereafter, found
her at her journey's end. riding into
the wide, clean thoroughfares of Phila
delphia.
"Mis' Anne—" Jo'nn-the-Baptist’s sol
emn drawl broke her reverie. "Dat yal-
lcr boy at de place whar we stayed
las’ night say dee gwinter rriek ev’ybody
okal. Do dat mean we niggers gwineter
!>• while. Ink you, or is y'all gwinter
b? black lak me?"
But Anne had no answer.
Going . toward High street, her course
lay by foe open green on which the new
state house fronted. She noticed that
tin pavements were almost deserted, and
found herself thinking wonderingl.v that
the streets of Richmond were noisier.
It was with a start of surprise that,
on turning a corner by the green, she
pulled up without warning on the skirls
of a great hushed crowd, well ordered,
moving restlessly, under trees that shrill
ed with locusts.
Most of those nearer the front were
gentry. They walked back and forth
slowly, trampling the blue thistles and
whortleberry bushes. Next them was a
stratum of the trading and working
classes. No wonder the wealthier mer
chants jeered them, for they wore trous
ers of coarse drill, even leather jer
kins; and some carried tools. Here was
a group of weavers from German-town,
and not far away a knot of Swedes from
Wicaco. The older men among these
wore legglns and skin coats.
On the outskirts of all. here and there,
holding themselves aloof, walked stae-
lier, heavier figures in small-clothes of
rich velvets and satins and wearing
powdered wigs.
They carried irritable looks, these
‘‘Pennsylvania lords.'’ as the bitter
Adams called them, it was bad weather
for Tories. From the yard of Clarke's
Inn. acrass the street. they looked
askance at the workmen, passing sneering
allusions to the representatives from
Massachusetts, angered at the assump-
‘•The hells! . . . come hack to me—only to hear them ring ! only to understand
tion of legislative powers by men clearly
of more humble blood than themselves.
They saw the cannon in position by the
state house and the continental flags
fluttering from the shipping in the har
bor. They knew that in the near-by
woods five battalions of Associators, drill
ed an d aimed, were awaiting any out
come. They knew that the people were
ready—if only their leaders should choose.
Anne, upon her tired horse, looked
with wonder at this earnest, quiet crowd
and thrilled with a new sense 'of the
dignity of the assemblage within those
brick walls. The heat was simmering
and she had thrown open the thin cloak
she wore, showing a flash of crimson
waist with a sheen of metal buttons.
Mordecal Floyd, looking on nearby,
gazed on her with pursed lips.
"Small wonder,” he said grimly, "that
unrighteousness doth overwhelm the chil
dren of the world and move them to
wrath, when we see all about us the tes
timony of undenial. Lust of the eye.
friend Joseph! Lust of the eye!"
Joseph Galloway, standing by him.
looked^at the girl, so straight and young
and bright-hued; then his crafty look re
turned. “Consider the lilies of the field,"
he quoted with unction, as he took
snuff.
*T doubt not.'* pursued the Quaker,
wagging his pow, " "twas designed to cast
a slur upon the vanity of apparel, since
‘tis a thing of so little estimation in tiie
sight of God that He bestows it in the
highest degree upon the meanest of His
creatures. ’Tis to be presumed tlvat. were
it a thing of worth in itself. Instead of
bestowing colors, gildings, and broideries
upon tulips. He had bestowed them upon
creatures of higher dignity. To mankind
He hath given but sparingly of gaudy
features; a great part of them being
black, a great part of them being tawny,
and a great part being of other wan
and dusky complexions—showing that ’tis
not the outward adornment that He
wishes, hut the appearing in supplica
tion for the ornamenting of the Spir
it ”
"Even Solomon, in ail his glory, was
not arrayed like one of these!” intoned
his companion smoothly. "But I must
be going. Mordecai. 1 have an errand
at the tavern.”
“Hast thou heard aught more of the
message to the Congress from France?”
the Quaker inquired in a low voice, as he
clasped the other's fervid palm.
Galloway put his lips close to the
other’s ear. and a glutinous chuckle shook
his jowl.
“Mordecai." he said. "I dreamed last
night that France had an ax to grind.
Wouldn’t it bo curious if the message
didn't tickle the Congress so much after
all? Ho-ho!”
Anne's first inquiry provoked a smile
from the bystanders. Doctor Franklin?
Yes, he was doubtless in the Hall, but
to see him! Quite impossible! And a
lady, too. At a recess she might suc
ceed, but not now. Who could tell but
he was on the floor at that moment?
So she rode on. At High street she
inquired for an inn. -as she had been in
the saddle since dawn amj the horses
were jaded. Learning that the principal
ones were all full, owing to the pres
ence of the delegates, she found her way
to one of the more humble hoslelries on
another street. It was the Red Lion
Tavern
The place seemed well-nigh deserted;
had she known the significance of this
day’s sitting of the Congress, she would
have understood. As it was, finding no
host in evidence, she went into the par
lor and sat down to await his appear
ance.
And sitting so, from the hall, and com
ing nearer, she heard the well-remem
bered voice of J irrat.
A panic seized iter. The packet—it was
ill the lining of her cloak at that mo
ment. He must not see her! She looked
wildly about her. but there was no door
of escape. In desperation she ran to the
deep-set window. It was shut, but there
were shalloon curtains across the al
cove, and she shrank behind them as
the door flew open.
Jarrat came in. noisily; one of the inn
servants was at his heels.
"I would speak with the Monsiegneur,”
he said. "Request him to l )e so good
as to honor me here.” He stood smiling
redly as the servant went, and Anne
watched him from between the curtains
with fascinated gaze.
"At last!" lie muttered; "the final
stroke, and still all goes well. If Ar
mand succeeds for us. then advancement
and favor for me The king must reward
me. for the plan was mine alone."
"Armand!” Anne's heart had given a
great leap. Jarrat knew where he was—
what lie did. “If he succeeds for us”—
what meant those strange words?
Again a step in the hall, again the door
opened, a scraping servant said. ‘’Mon-
seigneur.” and again Anne’s heart leap
ed; for the man who stood on the thresh
old. clad in a full costume of purple vel
vet, was Armand. Armand, but sparer of
feature with shadows beneath the eyes.
Tet they looked out with all their old
nobility and with a strange tire. She
knew now where she had seen that fire—
it was in Henry’s face—the fire of stead
fast purpose that knows no quenching.
Armand! Escaped from Dunmore's
clutches, safe and in Philadelphia! She
wanted to rush out to him, to cry to
him that she had done the best she
could, had come to fulfill her promise at
last. But what did he with Jarrat?
“So!” the latter said, "as bravely trim
med ;l s ever. 'Tis the dress of a prince.”
“My good Pliurno has the best of taste.’’
On Armand's face was a strange smile.
“You have cozened him beautifully. X
doubt not he expects reimbursement from
his king.”
“My king.” corrected Armand. softly.
"K op it up,” laughed Jarrat. “ Tis
never forgetting makes a good play-ac
tor. Faith, it minds me of the old Vir
ginia days. Then you posed as only a
marquis. We rise in the world. Yes
terday—in a prison cell at Hal
ifax; today—this little plan, re
lease, and presto! behold Louis’ secret
envoy. Well, you are near to the pur
chase of your pardon. The time is al
most hero. A half-hour more and you
will enter the State House. You lack
r.ot assurance. Here is tlie letter you
will deliver to the Congress.”
Armand took the paper he handed him
and put it in his breast.
“’Tis signed with De Vergennes' name,
of course,” went on Jarrat, “and 'tis a
clever enough forgery to trick even Poor
Richard for the time being. Aid in re
turn for territorial compansation . . .
now if 'twere only Louis Fifteenth!
’l’would be like the old skinflint. Me-
thinks 'twill be a wet-blanket to allay
this fever for a Declaration. 'Twill suffice
to tide over till these patriot addle-pates
come to their senses.”
Anne’s mind was in a clamor—a hideous,
unmeaning clamor of surprise, from
which a single fact stood out with the
clearness of a black silhouette etched on
white paper. Armand, not escaped, but
released—released—going before the Con
gress with a lying message—a message
of discouragement—going now. this very
hour, and the plot was Jarrat's.
It was for a single heart-brat as if the
sun were darkened, as if all joy were
blotted from tb- 5 universe. Then, peer
ing out, she saw his eyes, ami the bi;ter
scene at Gladden Hall rose to her like a
vision. She saw him dragged away, and
with the vision she felt, strong, tri
umphant. the terrible, joyful rebellion of
her own belief i n him that would not
doubt.
“I could not have devised it better my
self—Jarrat was speaking again. "There
is not a soul in Congress who could
recognize you as the Louis Armand seized
at Williamsburg. Luckily, Henry is in
the Virginia Convention. The devil holds
cards with us.”
“And this,” said Armand, as if to him
self, “has been the devil’s deal.”
“Aye. But ’Us time for us to start;
Pliarne will be there by now." He con
sulted his watch. “Ten minutes to ride
thither. I have horses at the door. 1
shall go with you as one of your suite.
Luckily, I shall not be known. I must
not miss the delight or recounting this
interesting event in detail, in Virginia.
Can you guess,” with a malign smile, “to
whom in especial, Monsigneur?”
A red flush leaped into Armand’s cheek
and his teeth clenched convulsively. It
was as if a great wave of passion lashed
the man and left him tense and white.
His tone, however, remained as low as
ever.
"Toil hound!” he said. “You prowling
■wolf of the dark! who know no truth, no
trust, no faith! who, being vile, think all
else vile the same. Thank God that to
one . . to her . . my honor was al
ways unstained. She believe you? No!
Never! I go alone to the Congress—you
go no farther with me!”
A facial contortion drew Jarrat’s lips
from his teeth. He stood in a leaning
posture, his knuckles tint upon the table
between them, a thriving suspicion in
his look. A fit of shuddering seized Ann*’
as she saw this look change swirly to
conviction—certainty in which rage and
shame and hate were black.
”1 go no farther?’' hf repeated ha;
say you? Oh. fool . . . ’ fool that l
was to trust, you! You have tricked me!
You never intended to do it! You will
not go!—Aye, you would go. but where
fore?" His voice had sunk to a metallic
dullness, and he eyed the other breathing
hard.
Now his tone leaped again: ”1 know!
The French king had his own mind! He
sent your master a message to convey
. . . a, message of comfort. Ah! your
face says ‘aye"! Twas in the packet you
gave to Mistress Tillotson at Gladden
Ilall! Damn that bondwoman! You have
got it! Now that you are false to us.
’tis wiis message—that message that you
would give the Congress! And twas i
brought you from the jail . . . I!”
The last words were a sort of horrible
rasping whisper, and as he spoke he
came slowly around the table, his fingers
clawing Its edge.
“But you shall not! You double
traitor! You shall not go! T know you—
I alone! I will prevent it.”
“You shall never leave this room, said
Armand.
Crouched low, holding the shalloon
edges, Anne saw it all. the breath frozen
in her throat—saw both blades clang out
with a single movement—saw Jarrat hurl
himself forward—heard the steel meet.
Mixed joy and horror held her.
She understood; he had cherished hi*
master’s purpose all along—pursued by
treachery, meeting cunning with cunning,
constrained to deception. Tt was the
true message of the french king that
she clasped at that moment under her
cloak. To carry this he had won his
way from the hands of his enemies and
fooled Jarrat to his purpose. And non
without tiie packet, his voice would give
the message to Congress. She had
brought it just in time.
All this came to her at once, in a suc
cession of pictures vivid as patches or
night landscape seen by violet lightning,
and at an instant when horror overrolled
her joy.
Tiie street, the tap-room were so
near; would none come to stop them?
She feared to declare herself, f.ir
a tremor of the hand, might mean death
to her lover.
She saw the quick end, powerless to
utter a cry. Armand stiffened suddenly,
his left hand fallen low; his blade passed
like a needle In sailcloth, through the
other’s body, and Jarrat slipped in a
huddle to the floor and lay -lili.
Anne tried to scream, but her throat
only gave forth a whisper. Not till Ar
mand had sheathed bis wet sword and
the door had- closed upon him, did she
find strength to part the curtains.
She looked upon the prostrate man in
a terror. She must summon help and
then take the packet to Armand. She
realized suddenly that Jarrat was not
dead—that his eyes were upon her—that
he was struggling to a sitting posture.
"You saw . . you heard.” lie gasped.
“You!”
“Yes." she breathed.
“You brought him the packet! My God
—to think I never suspected! And he has
gone—gone—"
“To his honor.”
He stared at her, a slow, ghastly smile
coming to wreathe his lips. “Honor? Say
you so? Wait.”
He made an attempt to unbutton his
waistcoat. “The paper to this pocket.”
he groaned. “Take it and read. Quick!
Quick! Nay, call no one' Men bleed
not to death so soon.”
She unfolded the scroll with shaking
Author of
“Smoking Flax*’ ;, |®.
“A Furnace of Earth” >®
Etc jj?
..... «
fingers and read;
“I. Louis Armand, released from dur
ance in Halifax under special instruc
tion from his Majesty's Government
touching the Continental Congress, do
agree that, in the event that ; do not
carry out this mission, as ordered, 1
bold my life forfeit and pledge civ honor
within one month this her* a Her to de
liver mysi’U to Lord Chet.wyado, whose
custody 1 now leave.
“(Signed) ARMAND '
Site caught her breath. “Do pledge my
honor to deliver myself’ - "to hold my
life forfeit.” He had chosen to give his
life to carry the true message. |jis life’
How dear that was t” her! lie must not
do it! Oh. if God would onl\ help her
to think. He must not do it! She heard
Jarrat's breathing through it all, and
felt his eyes, Alining, upon her.
A heavy knocking came at the door,
and Joseph Galloway entered, his stick
in his hand. He made an exriamatii a as
he saw. and threw up his hands.
"Galloway"' said the wounded man, his
brea.th rattling with a convulsion as the
ether nent over him. “He is false to us.
Armand—he is false as hed! ile—did this.
He is gone to the Congress. You must
stop hint!"
“Yes. yes. 1 will call a leech. ’Tis
not a mortal thrust, man. 1 will go to
the hall. But how to do it? Proofs—’”
“She , . . gasped Jarrat. in a final
effort, pointing to Anne. “She . . ”
and lapsed into ashen unconsciousness.
CHAPTER NINETEEN.
THE GREAT SUNDERING.
The white-walled, high-ceiled ante-room
was barely furnished with paduasoy
chairs and a small slim-legged facie. A
high desk used betimes by the C< lony’s
Chief Justice of the Supreme Court was
at one end. with doors on either side;
the other end of the room opened in nar
row arches between pillars, into the wide-
paved hall of tiie State House. Across
these pillars was stretched a heavy cloth
curtain, through w hose folds sounds from
the corridor reached dull and muffled.
Beyond these curtains, on. the opposite
side of the hall, was a great dduol?
door, and through the heavy oak earne
toici.-e 1*. ('.bait and an occasional hign
note, like the metallic rap of a gavel.
But in the ante-room this became only a
distant hum like that of settling bees,
Armand. clad as for a court
levee, stood one side erect and sinii
lug before a trio of saber-coated fig
ures in duffle gray. His long, brown,
rippling hair, the rare lace at his throat,
the jade hilt of liis dress-sword, made,
him as distinct as some brilliant hued
insect among gray moths. Beside him,
uniformed, his mustachios aggr essive is
ever, short, wiry and alert, stood Pliarne.
The sober-coated gentlemen, the dele
gates appointed to meet the secret mes
senger to the Congress, had made their
bows to the great man, till but Dick
inson. their leader, openly radiant witn
the presumed bearing of his mission.
Monsieur Pliarne’s proposals for ammuni
tion purchases Had recently been con
sidered In committee, and the announce
ment of the envoy’s arrival, coming from
him. a known agent of France, had car
ried :t weight added to by the appear
ance of the man before them. He had
arrived a little late—a deliberateness that
accorded well with the sobriety of his
errand.
Now they hut waited a pause in the
debate to throw wide the doors that
opened to the floor.
On the other side of those doors rages
what is to be the last agitated hour of
tne fight. The document t.hat is to be
the birth-certificate of a nation lies upon
llie table. Since i-ar’.y morning the dis
cussion has been bitter.
Well for the hundreds who so anxious
ly wait in te sunny streets and crowd
the green outside that this document is
to come to them softened, as a grave de
liberation. when time and distance hav e
smoothed its roughness.
it would not have profited them to see
the strenuous Adams balk at the word
"tyrant.” believing George III rather a
man deceived. To hear the learned \\ Itu-
erspoon rage because of a- reference to
the Scotch people. To see North. Caro
lina delegates protest against the ar
raignment of the king for forcing upon
the Colonies the African slave trade.
To hear Tory ridicule, unashamed, assail
a leaf of immortality!
What did the evil tongues not sav. in
deed? "A plagiarism from Locke’s treat
ise on Government”—"its phrasing stolen
from a tragi-comedv of Aphra Behn s“ —
’an imitation *>l Chief Justice Draytons
Charge to the Grand Jury of Charles
town”—“a jumble of hackneyed ideas
composed bv James Otis in one of his
lucid intervals.”
And back of all in this struggle, be
neath the ardor of both sicle-. now thri.
the fierceness was cooling, lay waiting,
hesitant, the inevitable, silent but .t 11-
powerful minority who waver and—de
cide.
The insect hum ceased suddenly. Tnere
was a forward movement of the group
in the ante-room toward the curtains.
“Stop!” echoed an intense voice behind
them; "stop!” Joseph Galloway stepped
into the room from one of the side en
trances and closed the door.
"Prhise the Most High,” he ejaculated,
“that I am eoine in time! Gentlemen, as
you would save the Congress from a
most shameful scandal, let not that man
pass from this room!”
Then- was a murmur of angry amaze
ment from the group. Armand's hand
dropped to his side. His face had whit
ened. and Pliarne’s mustachios worked
alarmingly.
“Sir.” interposed Dickinson sternly. ‘ We
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