The Tory Maid | Page 8

her how
near she came to being Mrs. Dick Ringgold of Hunting Field."
"That I will, Sir Richard." But Dick was gone, and I was left to ride on
to the Braes.
A long, rambling house it was, standing white amid the trees, a wide
lawn around it stretching down to the creek at its foot; while beyond
could be seen the sunlight gleaming on the bay. A quaint, old-fashioned
place, the low roof already growing dark with age; the quiet air of ease
and comfort brooding over all, making a fitting setting for the quaint,
slender little lady that ruled its destinies.
A negro took my horse; another showed me across the broad hall, with
its hunting whips and trophies on the wall, to the parlour, and there I
awaited the coming of the Tory maid. And as I sat there, gently
stroking the toe of my boot with my whip, and thinking of that night at
the inn, of that soft "Thank you" on the old south road, I heard the soft
swish of her skirts, and, looking up, saw Mistress Jean standing in the
doorway. A beautiful picture it was, like some old portrait of Lely's, the
maid standing there framed in the old oak. And I, though I had been to
the balls at the Governor's house the winter before, and was therefore a
man of the world, sat staring for a moment. But she advanced, and I
was on my feet with a low and sweeping bow.

"Father is away," said she, "but in his name I wish to thank you for
defending us at the inn that night."
So she knew.
"It was to save the honour of Maryland gentlemen," I replied modestly.
"Heretofore they have not fought in mobs. But will you not thank me
for yourself?"
"When you turn loyalist, yes," said she.
"Almost thou persuadest me to become a traitor."
"You are that already," she said with spirit.
"Yes, that is the way they have written 'Patriot' since Tyranny first
stalked across the world. But patriot or traitor, Mistress Jean, I have
already won one 'Thank you,' and I hope some day to win another."
"Won one 'Thank you'--when and where?" and she looked at me with
wide open eyes.
Now every Marylander will admit that there are no more gallant
fellows in the world than we are, and if any one chooses to dispute it,
well and good, we are willing to cross swords with him any day, and so
reprove him for his recklessness. Indeed, we have been called with
truth the Gascons of the South, and, like those gallant gentlemen of old
France, we have never hidden our light under a bushel, to use a homely
phrase; and so when I saw Mistress Jean's air of surprise, the spirit of
my race came over me.
"Yes," I replied, "it was the sweetest 'Thank you' I ever heard."
Again the mystified look.
"But where?" said she again.
"It was rather dark," I replied, "and the clouds were drifting across the
sky, and you, I am afraid, did not know who it was who received that

soft 'Thank you.'"
"Were you the Lieutenant?"
I bowed.
"Oh," she said, and she stamped her tiny foot, "if you were only not a
rebel!"
"But even rebels have their uses."
Thus it was we became good friends in spite of the traitor stamped
upon my brow. Ere I knew it, the time approached when I had to mount
and ride. But before I left, her soft hand rested for a moment in mine.
"We march in a few days," said I, "to the North, to the Leaguer of
Boston. There will be fighting there and bloody work. Can I not carry a
single token?"
Her nimble fingers flew to her hair, and took from thence a blood-red
rose, and pinned it to my coat.
"There," said she, "my red cockade;" and turning quickly, she ran into
the house.
CHAPTER V
SIR SQUIRE OF TORY DAMES
"Well, Sir Squire of Tory Dames, did she smile on you?" The voice
was harsh and rasping; looking across the table, I saw the sneer upon
his lips. I had but entered a moment before the dining-room of the inn,
after my long ride, and was about to take my seat, when Rodolph's
sneering question made me pause.
"That is more than you could ever win, my Mighty Lord from
Nowhere," I retorted. At this there was a laugh from those about. An
angry flush showed through even his dark and swarthy skin; for, being

a burly bully of the border, he liked not being bearded thus by a youth.
"You damned impudent puppy!" he cried, rising.
But there stood a glass at my right hand, full to the brim, and