Janice Meredith: A Story of the American RevolutionFord, Paul Leicester
History
Janice Meredith: A Story of the American Revolution
Ford, Paul Leicester
United States -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Fiction
"My name, Fred, is John Brereton," corrected the officer,
"which is a change for the better, I think you will own. As
for my clothes, I'll better them, too, if Congress ever gives us
enough pay to do more than keep life in us. Owing to depreciation,
a leftenant-colonel is allowed to starve at present
on the equivalent of twenty-five dollars, specie, a month."
"And yet you go on serving such masters," burst out
Mobray. "Come over to us, Charl--John. Sir William
would give you--"
"Enough," interrupted Brereton, angrily. "For how long,
Sir Frederick, have you deemed me capable of treachery?"
"'T is no treachery to leave this unnatural rebellion and
take sides with our good king."
"Such talk is idle, and you should know it, Mobray. A
word with you ere Grayson and Boudinot--who have gone
to look at that marplot house of Cliveden which frustrated all
our hopes four months since--return and interrupt us. I
last saw you at the Merediths'; can you give me word of
them?"
"Only ill ones, alas!" answered the captain. "Their
necessities are such that I fear me they are on the point of
giving their daughter to that unutterable scoundrel, Clowes."
Jack started as if he had been stung. "You cannot mean
that, man! We sent you word he had broke his parole."
"Ay," replied the baronet, flushing. "And let me tell you,
John, that scarce an officer failed to go to Sir William and
beg him to send the cur back to you."
"And you mean that Mr. Meredith can seriously intend to
give Miss Janice to such a creature?"
"I fear 't is as good as decided. You know the man, and
how he gets his way, curse him!"
"I'd do more than that, could I but get into Philadelphia,"
declared Jack, hotly. "By heavens, Fred--"
But here the entrance of other officers interrupted them,
and Colonel Brereton was set to introducing Boudinot and
Grayson to the British officer.
Scarcely had they been made known to each other when
Mobray's fellow-commissioners, Colonel O'Hara and Colonel
Stevens, with a detail of dragoons, came trotting up; and so
soon as credentials were exchanged the six sat down about a
table in a private room to discuss the matter which had
brought them together. One of the first acts of Mobray was
to ask for a look at the Continental lists of prisoners; and
after a hurried glance through them, he turned and said to
Brereton in a low voice: "We had word in Philadelphia that
Leftenant Hennion died of a fever."
"'T is a false rumour," replied Brereton. "If I could I'd
see that he failed of an exchange till the end of the war; and
I would that one of our officers in your hands could be kept
by you for an equal term."
"Who is that?" asked Mobray.
"That rascal, Charles Lee," muttered Brereton. "But,
though he openly schemed against General Washington, and
sought to supersede him, his Excellency is above resentment,
and has instructed us to obtain his exchange among the first."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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