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
They were thus already asleep by ten o'clock one August
evening, when there came a gentle knocking on the back door,
which, after several repetitions, ceased, but only to be resumed
a moment later on the front one. Neither summons receiving
any attention, a succession of pebbles were thrown against
Janice's window, finally bringing the sleeper back to wakefulness.
Her first feeling, as she became conscious of the cause,
was one of fear, and her instinct was to pay no attention to the
outsider. After one or two repetitions, however, of the disquieting
taps, she stole to the window, and, keeping herself hidden,
peeped out. All she could see was a man standing close
to a shrub, as if to take advantage of its concealment, who
occasionally raised an arm and tossed a pebble against the
panes. Really alarmed, the girl was on the point of seeking
her mother, when her eyes took in the fact that Clarion was
standing beside the cause of her fright, and seeking, so far as
he could, to win his attention. Reassured, the girl raised the
sash, and instantly her father's voice broke upon her ears.
"Down with ye, Jan," he said, "and let me get under
cover."
Both anxious and delighted, the girl ran downstairs and
unbarred the door.
"I had begun to fear me that I had been misinformed and
that ye and your mother were not hereabout," the squire began;
"so 't is indeed a joy to find ye safe." And then, after
Mrs. Meredith had been roused, he explained his presence.
"Though I could not get back to ye in Philadelphia, no worry
I felt on your account, making sure that Lord Clowes would
look to your safety. An anxious week I had after the army
reached New York, till I received Colonel Brereton's letter telling
me of your safety, though that only assured me as to the
past, and I knew that any moment the rascally Whigs might
take to persecuting ye again."
"Nay, Lambert," said Mrs. Meredith, "not a one has offered
us the slightest annoyance. On the contrary, some of
thy tenants have tendered us food in payment of rent, though I
own that they insist upon hard bargains."
"I would I had as little complaint to make," responded the
husband. "No sooner did Clinton reach New York than my
appointment was taken from me, and but for Phil's kindness I
should like to have starved. Though with little money himself,
the boy would let me want for nothing, and but for him I
should not even have been able to be here to-night"
"How was that, dadda?" asked Janice.
"'T is not to be whispered outside, Jan, but some of these
same rebel Jerseymen--ay, and the Connecticut Yankees--
much prefer the ring of British guineas to the brustle of the worthless
paper money of the Whigs, so almost nightly boat-loads of
provisions and forage steal out of the Raritan for New York,
but for which the British army would be on short commons.
Phil, who knew of this traffic, secured me passage on one of
the empty boats."
"Then the villagers know thou hast returned?" exclaimed
Mrs. Meredith, anxiously.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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