CHAPTER XXXII

It was evening when the party reached the headquarters at Cambridge.

A faint afterglow of the brilliant sunset still lingered, but the

roadway leading to the entrance of the house was dusky with the shadows

of coming night, which almost hid the great trees on either side.

The air about was filled with the faint hum of camp life. Occasionally

a voice could be heard, or the neighing of a horse,--figures of men

were discernible here and there, and a sentry was pacing before the

steps of the mansion.

"Here we are, Dot," said her brother; and dismounting, he helped her

from her horse. "Careful, child;" for she had tripped, her

riding-skirt having become entangled about her feet as she followed him

into the open doorway. "I will take you directly to the room prepared

for you, and do you wait there until I return."

She said nothing, but held fast to his arm.

"Come, be brave," he whispered; "there is naught for you to fear." And

he led her within, leaving Hugh Knollys with the other men outside.

The hall was spacious and well lighted. Several officers and privates

were moving about, all of whom stared wonderingly at the unusual sight

of a lady,--although it was not easy to decide whether it was a woman

or child--this dainty little figure in the riding-habit, who was

looking about with unconcealed curiosity.

Far down the hall, to the left, her brother opened a door, showing a

spacious, well-furnished chamber, where a wood fire was blazing,--for

the night was drawing in chilly.

"Now take off your hat, child, and feel at home," he said, kissing her.

"Remember there is naught to fear. It is only that we are wishing to

fix matters for you, little one, so that you'll be happy." And he

kissed her again as she clung to his neck.

"Ah, Jack," she whispered, "you are so good to me!"

"I've never had the wish to be other than good," he replied lovingly.

As soon as she was alone, Dorothy removed her hat, and then, as she

stood by the hearth, watching the leaping flames, smoothed out her

curls.

So engaged, and lost in thought, she did not hear the tapping upon the

door, nor see that it opened softly and a man's figure paused on the

threshold, as if watching the slight form standing by the fire, with

the back turned squarely to him.

"Little one," came in a voice that startled the silence.

She turned like a flash, and although the firelight did not touch his

face, it was not needed to tell her who it was.

He closed the door, and advanced with outstretched arms, laughing with

exultation when she fled to them.

"You are still of the same mind as when we parted?" he said, while he

held her as if never meaning to let her go from him again.

"How can you ask?" And she nestled yet closer to him.

His only answer was to kiss her. Then, bringing a chair to the hearth,

he seated himself, and attempted to draw her upon his knee. But she

frustrated this by perching herself upon the arm of the chair, from

which she looked triumphantly into his face.

"Your hands are cold, little one," he said, holding them against his

cheek.

"We had a long ride," she replied, her eyes drooping before the

intensity of his gaze.

"Aye, so you did; are you tired?"

"No, not at all," was her smiling answer, and her appearance did not

belie the words.

"Hungry?"--with a little laugh, and tightening the clasp of his arm

about her.

"No," again lifting her eyes to his happy face.

"Well, I have been hungry for days, and with a hunger that is now being

happily appeased. But a supper is to be ready for you shortly, and

then you are to see General Washington. Do you understand, sweetheart,

what all this is about?" He was looking down at the small hands

resting in one of his own, and smiling as he noted with a lover's eye

how dainty and white they were.

"Yes," she said, "my brother explained all that to me."

"And you will come with me--now, at once, as soon as I can make my

arrangements?" He spoke hurriedly, nervously.

"To England?" she asked, a very serious look now showing in her dark

eyes.

"Aye, to England," he repeated in a tone whose firmness was

contradicted by his perturbed face.

Disengaging one hand, her arm stole around his neck as she whispered,

"I would go to the ends of the earth with you now."

He held her head away, the better to look into her face, as he said

with a sigh of contentment: "Now I can breathe easy! You see I did not

dare believe you would really come,--you've ever been such a capricious

little rebel."

Presently he asked, as he toyed with her small fingers, "Where got you

all these different rings, little one?" and a note almost of jealousy

sounded in his voice. "Here be many pretty brilliants--I thought maids

in this country never wore such. How comes such a baby as you with a

ring like this?" And he lifted her hand to look at the one which had

attracted his special notice.

"My father gave it to me," she said quietly; "it was my mother's--whom

I never saw."

He pressed his lips to the sparkling circlet. "My little wife, I'll be

mother, father--all things else to you. All of them together could not

love you more truly and sacredly than do I. Ah, my darling, you have

but poor knowledge of the way I love you, and how highly I prize your

esteem. How can you, after the rough wooing to which I treated you?"

Then he whispered, "And where is the ruby ring?"

He felt her head stir uneasily against his shoulder, "Surely you did

not throw it away?" he asked after a moment's waiting.

Dorothy laughed, softly and happily.

"You told me that night at Master Weeks'," she whispered, "that you did

not believe what my lips said, but what my eyes had shown you."

"Aye, so I did, and so I thought when I spoke. But until now I've been

tossed about with such conflicting thoughts as scarce to know what to

think."

"That may be so," she said, sitting erect to look at him. "But,

believing what you read in my eyes then and before, think you I would

throw away the ring?"

"Then where is it?" he asked again, smiling at her earnestness.

For answer she raised her hands to her neck, and undoing the fastening

of a gold chain, drew it, with the ring strung upon it, from where they

had rested, and laid them both in his hand.

His fingers closed quickly over them as he exclaimed, "Was there ever

such a true little sweetheart?"

Then lifting her into his lap, he said, "You have never yet said to me

in words that you really love me. Tell me so now--say it!"

"Think you that you have need for words?" A bit of her old wilfulness

was now showing in her laughing eyes.

"Nay--truly no need, after what you have done for me, and have said you

would go home with me. But there's a wish to hear such words, little

one, and to hear you speak my name--which, now that I think of it, I

verily believe you do not even know."

She nodded smilingly, but did not answer.

"What is it?" he asked coaxingly, as he would have spoken to a child.

"Ah--I know it." And she laughed teasingly.

"Then say it," he commanded with mock fierceness. "Say it this minute,

or I'll--"

But her soft palm was against his lips, cutting short his threat.

"It is--Kyrle," she said demurely.

"Aye, so it is, and I never thought it could sound so sweet. Now say

the rest of it--there's a good child. Ah, little one," he exclaimed

with sudden passion, "I can scarcely yet believe all this is true. Lay

all doubt at rest forever by telling me you love me!"

The laughter was gone from her eyes, and a solemn light came into them.

"Kyrle Southorn, I love you--I do love you!"

They now heard voices and steps outside the door, and Dorothy sprang to

her feet, while Captain Southorn arose hastily from the chair and set

it back in place.

It was John Devereux who entered, followed by a soldier.

"Well, good people," he said cheerily, giving the young Britisher a

glance of swift scrutiny, and then looking smilingly at Dorothy, "there

is a supper waiting for this small sister of mine; and, Dot, you must

come with me--and that speedily, as I am famishing."

He advanced and drew her hand within his arm; then turning with more

dignity of manner to the Englishman, he added, "After we have supped,

Captain Southorn, I will look for you in your room, as General

Washington will then be ready to receive us."

Southorn bowed gravely. Then, with a sudden boyish impulsiveness, he

extended his hand.

"May I not first hear from your own lips," he asked earnestly, "that

you wish me well?"

Jack clasped the hand as frankly as it had been offered, and Dorothy's

heart beat happily, as she saw the two dearest on earth to her looking

with friendly eyes upon one another.