Mr. Arnold: A romance of the Revolution — John Shaqi
Mr. Arnold: A romance of the RevolutionLynde, Francis
General
Mr. Arnold: A romance of the Revolution
Lynde, Francis
Arnold, Benedict, 1741-1801 -- Fiction
His mention of the borrowed horse first set me to wondering how he came
to know that I had borrowed a horse; but a moment later the wonder went
out in a blaze of sudden recollection. As I am a living man, up to that
instant I had clean forgotten that I was pledged to meet Captain Howard
Seytoun at dawn-breaking in the grass cove at the river’s edge!
I was on my feet and breathing hard when I broke out hotly: “Good
heavens, Colonel Hamilton! I can not go to-night; it is impossible! A
thing I had forgotten----”
He rose in his turn and faced me smiling.
“Tell me where she lives, Captain Page,” he said slyly, “and I’ll
promise to go in person to make your excuses. Nay, no cunningly devised
fables, sir, if you please; it is always a woman who hangs to our
coat-skirts at the plunging moment. But seriously,” and now his face
was grave, “there should not be an hour’s delay. Not to mention our
sergeant’s safety, which seems to be hanging in a most precarious
balance, there is a sharp chance of your missing the target entirely.
Word has come that Arnold is embodying, or has embodied, a regiment
with which he may take the field at any moment. No, you must go
to-night, if you go at all.”
“But you were not expecting me here from Colonel Baylor’s camp until
midnight,” I protested, trying to gain time for the shaping of some
excuse that would hide the truth and still seem something less than
childish.
“For the anticipating of which expectation by some hours, we are
discussing this matter here in comfort before my fire, instead of on
horseback and on the southward road, Captain Page. I had planned to
ride with you to our outposts, enlisting you as we went.”
“Yet--good lord, Mr. Hamilton! if I could tell you--if I only dared
tell you what it will cost me to go to-night....”
He spread his slender hands in a most gentlemanly way.
“I have laid no commands upon you for the services, Captain Page; as I
have said, your going rests entirely with yourself. Nor must you think
I am trying to bribe you when I point out that the man who carries
the enterprise through will have earned much at the hands of his
country and of the army. It is for you to decide whether this obstacle
of yours is great enough to weigh against the arguments for instant
despatch--remembering that these arguments may well include the life of
the worthy soldier who has piloted out the way for you.”
It has always been my failing to omit to count the personal cost of
anything until the day of reckoning rises up to slap me in the face.
“I’ll go--to-night,” I said grittingly. “But if I could leave an
explanatory word with Pettus----”
Again he stopped me in mid-career with a hand laid affectionately on my
shoulder.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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