And indeed, within that past hour, to their astonished eyes the whole face of nature had changed.The moon was gone, the sky hidden in a blinding, whirling swarm of stinging flakes.The wind, bitter and strong, had already fashioned white feathery drifts upon the threshold, over the painted benches on the porch, and against the door-posts.
Mistress Thankful and the baron had walked to the rear door--the baron with a slight tropical shudder--to view this meteorological change.As Mistress Thankful looked over the snowy landscape, it seemed to her that all record of her past experience had been effaced: her very footprints of an hour before were lost; the gray wall on which she leaned was white and spotless now; even the familiar farm-shed looked dim and strange and ghostly.Had she been there? had she seen the captain? was it all a fancy? She scarcely knew.
A sudden gust of wind closed the door behind them with a crash, and sent Mistress Thankful, with a slight feminine scream, forward into the outer darkness.But the baron caught her by the waist, and saved her from Heaven knows what imaginable disaster; and the scene ended in a half-hysterical laugh.But the wind then set upon them both with a malevolent fury; and the baron was, I presume, obliged to draw her closer to his side.
They were alone, save for the presence of those mischievous confederates, Nature and Opportunity.In the half-obscurity of the storm she could not help turning her mischievous eyes on his.But she was perhaps surprised to find them luminous, soft, and, as it seemed to her at that moment, grave beyond the occasion.An embarrassment utterly new and singular seized upon her; and when, as she half feared yet half expected, he bent down and pressed his lips to hers, she was for a moment powerless.But in the next instant she boxed his ears sharply, and vanished in the darkness.
When Mr.Blossom opened the door to the baron he was surprised to find that gentleman alone, and still more surprised to find, when they re-entered the house, to see Mistress Thankful enter at the same moment, demurely, from the front door.
When Mr.Blossom knocked at his daughter's door the next morning it opened upon her completely dressed, but withal somewhat pale, and, if the truth must be told, a little surly.
"And you were stirring so early, Thankful," he said: "'twould have been but decent to have bidden God-speed to the guests, especially the baron, who seemed much concerned at your absence."Miss Thankful blushed slightly, but answered with savage celerity, "And since when is it necessary that I should dance attendance upon every foreign jack-in-the-box that may lie at the house?""He has shown great courtesy to you, mistress, and is a gentleman.""Courtesy, indeed!" said Mistress Thankful.
"He has not presumed?" said Mr.Blossom suddenly, bringing his cold gray eyes to bear upon his daughter's.
"No, no," said Thankful hurriedly, flaming a bright scarlet; "but--nothing.But what have you there? a letter?""Ay,--from the captain, I warrant," said Mr.Blossom, handing her a three-cornered bit of paper: "'twas left here by a camp-follower.
Thankful," he continued, with a meaning glance, "you will heed my counsel in season.The captain is not meet for such as you."Thankful suddenly grew pale and contemptuous again as she snatched the letter from his hand.When his retiring footsteps were lost on the stairs she regained her color, and opened the letter.It was slovenly written, grievously misspelled, and read as follows:--"SWEETHEART: A tyranous Act, begotten in Envy and Jealousie, keeps me here a prisoner.Last night I was Basely arrested by Servile Hands for that Freedom of Thought and Expression for which I have already Sacrifized so much--aye all that Man hath but Love and Honour.But the End is Near.When for the Maintenance of Power, the Liberties of the Peoples are subdued by Martial Supremacy and the Dictates of Ambition the State is Lost.I lie in Vile Bondage here in Morristown under charge of Disrespeck--me that a twelvemonth past left a home and Respectable Connexions to serve my Country.Believe me still your own Love, albeit in the Power of Tyrants and condemned it may be to the scaffold.
"The Messenger is Trustworthy and will speed safely to me such as you may deliver unto him.The Provender sanktified by your Hands and made precious by yr.Love was wrested from me by Servil Hands and the Eggs, Sweetheart, were somewhat Addled.The Bacon is, methinks by this time on the Table of the Comr-in-Chief.Such is Tyranny and Ambition.Sweetheart, farewell, for the present.
ALLAN."
