Joscelyn Cheshire: A Story of Revolutionary Days in the CarolinasKennedy, Sara Beaumont
History
Joscelyn Cheshire: A Story of Revolutionary Days in the Carolinas
Kennedy, Sara Beaumont
United States -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Fiction
She had small hope that her aunt would be appeased, but she wanted her
mother out of the way that she might carry her prisoner something to
eat. It was close upon one o'clock, and not a morsel had she been able
to give him. She drew the bolt of the front door after her mother, who
was nothing loath to go upon this peace errand; and hurrying to the
dining room, made hasty preparation to relieve Richard's needs. She was
not used to doing things upon the sly, and her heart was in hot
rebellion that she must stoop to such a thing among her own servants.
There were hard lines of determination about her mouth, but the hands
that sliced the meat and buttered the bread shook a little. Even when on
the stair, she turned back, startled by a sound in the hall; but it was
only the cat romping with her little ones, and so once more she went on.
Softly she unlocked the attic door, and stepped in. The room was in
partial twilight, having no window, but she saw Richard coming to meet
her.
"No May-day sunshine was ever half so welcome," he whispered, taking her
hand in both of his. "Tell me how matters have gone this morning. I have
fretted myself into a fever lest I bring some annoyance upon you. And
now you must promise me that if discovery comes, you will forswear all
knowledge of my being here. I shall claim that the key was in the lock,
and after I was inside, some one came and closed the door. Thus will you
be free from blame."
"And think you any one will believe so flimsy a story? Nay, the only
safety for either of us lies in your not being discovered. I understand
that Tarleton is furious over his failure, and has already ordered a
new search. I rely upon my own loyalty, and upon his lordship's order
for our exemption. But if the worst comes, we must be prepared."
"I am." He touched his pistols and drew himself up until his magnificent
figure was at perfect pose. "I shall die, Joscelyn, but like a soldier;
not on the gallows."
She shuddered, and her eyes lost their coldness; the woman in her was
touched by his cool courage in face of such a danger.
"Yes," she said, with a hesitating gentleness, "but I pray it come not
to that. By being prepared I meant we must leave no tell-tale traces
here such as these,"--she pointed to the platter and pitcher. "I shall
take these away; your dinner I have brought in this bit of paper--leave
no crumbs when you have finished. This jug contains water and this
bottle wine; stand them in that corner with those empty bottles, and
they will attract no attention."
"It shall be done, Joscelyn."
"Watch under the door; if there is an order given to search the house, I
will try and warn you by a note."
"Joscelyn, desperate as I was, I should have sought some other shelter,
had I not thought your loyalty would put your house beyond the shadow of
suspicion. Will you not say you forgive me before you go? We may never
meet again."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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