However, I took my leave of Sir John, who gave me a wavering hand and stared at me blankly. Then I kissed the ladies' hands and went out to the porch where Billy waited with my mare, Kaya. Lady Johnson came to the door as I mounted. "Don't forget us when again you are in Johnstown," she said. Claudia, too, appeared and stepped daintily out on the dewy grass, lifting her petticoat. "What a witching night," she exclaimed mischievously, "--what a night for love! Do you mark the young moon, Jack, and how all the dark is saturated with a sweet smell of new buds?" "I mark it all," said I, laughing, "and, as for love, why, I love it all, Claudia,--moon, darkness, scent of young leaves, the far forest still as death, and the noise of the brook yonder." "I meant a sweeter love," quoth she, coming to my stirrup and laying both hands upon my saddle. "There is no sweeter love," said I, still laughing, "--none happier than the love of this silvery world of night which God made to heal us of the blows of day." "Whither do you ride, Jack?" "Homeward." "To Fonda's Bush?" "Yes." "Directly home?" "I have a comrade----" said I. "He awaits me on the Mayfield Road." "Why do you ride by Mayfield?" "Because he waits for me there." "Why, Jack?" "He has friends to visit----" "At Mayfield?" "At Pigeon-Wood," I muttered. "More gallantry!" she said, tossing her head. "But young men must have their fling, and I am not jealous of Betsy Browse or of her pretty sister, so that you ride not toward Caughnawaga----" "What?" "To see this rustic beauty, Penelope Grant----" "Have I not refused to seek her for you?" I demanded. "Yes, but not for yourself, Jack! Curiosity killed a cat and started a young man on his travels!" Exasperated by her malice I struck my mare's flanks with moccasined heels; and as I rode out into the darkness Claudia's gaily mocking laugh floated after me on the still, sweet air. CHAPTER VI RUSTIC GALLANTRY There were few lanterns and fewer candle lights in Johnstown; sober folk seemed to be already abed; only a constable, Hugh McMonts, stood in the main street, leaning upon his pike as I followed the new moon out of town and down into a dark and lovely land where all was still and fragrant and dim as the dreams of those who lie down contented with the world. Now, as I jogged along on my mare, Kaya, over a well-levelled road, my mind was very full of what I had seen and heard at Johnson Hall. One thing seemed clear to me; there could be no foundation for any untoward rumours regarding Sir John,--no fear that he meant to shame his honoured name and flee to Canada to join Guy Johnson and his Indians and the Tryon County Tories who already had fled. No; Sir John was quietly planning his summer farming. All seemed tranquil at the Hall. And I could not find it in my nature to doubt his pledged word, nor believe that he was plotting mischief.