The Spy | Page 9

crossed his features; his eye kindled with a transient beam of fire, that
spoke a latent source of deep feeling. The admiring gaze of the younger
of the sisters had barely time to read its expression, before it passed
away, leaving in its room the acquired composure which marked the
countenance of the stranger, and that impressive dignity which so
conspicuously denotes the empire of reason.
The elder sister made one or two movements in her chair, before she
ventured to say, in a tone which partook in no small measure of
triumph,--
"General Gates has been less fortunate with the earl, than with General
Burgoyne."
"But General Gates is an Englishman, Sarah," cried the younger lady,
with quickness; then, coloring to the eyes at her own boldness, she
employed herself in tumbling over the contents of her work basket,
silently hoping the remark would be unnoticed.
The traveler had turned his face from one sister to the other, as they had
spoken in succession, and an almost imperceptible movement of the
muscles of his mouth betrayed a new emotion, as he playfully inquired
of the younger,--
"May I venture to ask what inference you would draw from that fact?"
Frances blushed yet deeper at this direct appeal to her opinions upon a
subject on which she had incautiously spoken in the presence of a
stranger; but finding an answer necessary, after some little hesitation,
and with a good deal of stammering in her manner, she replied,--
"Only--only--sir--my sister and myself sometimes differ in our opinions
of the prowess of the British." A smile of much meaning played on a
face of infantile innocency, as she concluded.

"On what particular points of their prowess do you differ?" continued
Harper, meeting her look of animation with a smile of almost paternal
softness.
"Sarah thinks the British are never beaten, while I do not put so much
faith in their invincibility."
The traveler listened to her with that pleased indulgence, with which
virtuous age loves to contemplate the ardor of youthful innocence; but
making no reply, he turned to the fire, and continued for some time
gazing on its embers, in silence.
Mr. Wharton had in vain endeavored to pierce the disguise of his
guest's political feelings; but, while there was nothing forbidding in his
countenance, there was nothing communicative; on the contrary it was
strikingly reserved; and the master of the house arose, in profound
ignorance of what, in those days, was the most material point in the
character of his guest, to lead the way into another room, and to the
supper table. Mr. Harper offered his hand to Sarah Wharton, and they
entered the room together; while Frances followed, greatly at a loss to
know whether she had not wounded the feelings of her father's inmate.
The storm began to rage with great violence without; and the dashing
rain on the sides of the building awakened that silent sense of
enjoyment, which is excited by such sounds in a room of quiet comfort
and warmth, when a loud summons at the outer door again called the
faithful black to the portal. In a minute the servant returned, and
informed his master that another traveler, overtaken by the storm,
desired to be admitted to the house for a shelter through the night.
At the first sounds of the impatient summons of this new applicant, Mr.
Wharton had risen from his seat in evident uneasiness; and with eyes
glancing with quickness from his guest to the door of the room, he
seemed to be expecting something to proceed from this second
interruption, connected with the stranger who had occasioned the first.
He scarcely had time to bid the black, with a faint voice, to show this
second comer in, before the door was thrown hastily open, and the
stranger himself entered the apartment. He paused a moment, as the

person of Harper met his view, and then, in a more formal manner,
repeated the request he had before made through the servant. Mr.
Wharton and his family disliked the appearance of this new visitor
excessively; but the inclemency of the weather, and the uncertainty of
the consequences, if he were refused the desired lodgings, compelled
the old gentleman to give a reluctant acquiescence.
Some of the dishes were replaced by the orders of Miss Peyton, and the
weather-beaten intruder was invited to partake of the remains of the
repast, from which the party had just risen. Throwing aside a rough
greatcoat, he very composedly took the offered chair, and
unceremoniously proceeded to allay the cravings of an appetite which
appeared by no means delicate. But at every mouthful he would turn an
unquiet eye on Harper, who studied his appearance with a closeness of
investigation that was very embarrassing to its subject. At