My Lady of Doubt. Randall Parrish
nothing to awaken a throb of memory. Surely I could never have seen her before, and forgotten; that would have been impossible. The music ceased, leaving us at the farther extremity of the hall.
"And now you will go?" she questioned eagerly.
"Do you mean, leave here?"
"Yes; you said once to-night, that but for me you would be riding yonder. I realized all you meant, and you must not remain. The guard-lines are slack to-night, and you can get through, but if you wait until to-morrow it may be too late. Believe me, I am your friend, a friend of your cause."
"I do believe you; I could not connect you with deceit, but I am bewildered at this sudden exposure. Does Captain Grant also suspect my identity?"
"I think not—not yet, at least, for if he did you would be under arrest. But there are others here who would recognize you just as I have. There is no mystery about it. I was in Philadelphia when the Continental troops were here, and you were pointed out to me then. No, we have never met, yet I was sure I recognized you this afternoon."
"I was pointed out to you by whom?"
"My brother—my twin brother on the staff of General Lee."
"Did you not inform me your family were loyalists?"
"Yes; it is true," earnestly, her foot tapping the floor, as though annoyed at such persistent questioning. "I have a father and brother in the King's service—but one is a renegade, and I—I—"
"You are what?"
"I am merely a woman, sir, unable to determine whether to finally become loyalist or rebel."
I looked gravely into her eyes until they fell, veiling their revelation of truth behind long lashes.
"Mistress Mortimer," I murmured, bending so close to her pink ear, I felt the soft touch of her hair on my lips, "you dissemble so charmingly as to even puzzle me. But if I leave you now, as you request, I must first have promise of welcome again."
"Then you mean to return—a prisoner? I am always merciful to the suffering."
"No; we are coming back to Philadelphia victors, and soon. I am not afraid to tell you. I have learned much to-day, and go back to report to Washington that the exchange of British commanders means the early evacuation of this city. When we meet again you will not be a lady of the Blended Rose, nor will I be wearing this uniform."
Her eyes sparkled brightly into mine, then dropped demurely.
"I—I rather like the colors you are wearing now, and am sure this dress is most becoming. I—I have a passion for masquerade."
"I recognize that, but have already discovered where I can read the truth beyond the masque—what is occurring now?"
She turned to look, attracted as I had been by the change and bustle about us. A few feet from where we stood conversing, large folding doors, previously concealed by draperies, were suddenly flung wide open, revealing a magnificent dining-hall. Before the crowd could recover from its first surprise, and surge that way, my eyes had taken in the full effect of the disclosure. It was a vast saloon, as I have since been informed, measuring two hundred and ten feet by forty, with a height of twenty-two feet, having three large alcoves on each side. The ceiling was the segment of a circle, the sides painted a light straw color, with vine leaves and festoons of flowers, some in bright, others in dark green. More than fifty large pier-glasses extended from floor to ceiling, reflecting the glitter of the tables, while a hundred branches of three lights each, and eighteen clusters of twenty-four, illumined the immense apartment, aided by three hundred wax tapers upon the snowy tables. These were already prepared for service, set with nearly five hundred covers, a large company of black slaves, attired in Oriental fashion, awaiting the coming of the guests. Sir William and his brother already led the way, the others pouring in as rapidly as the wide doors would permit. Dazzled by the magnificent spectacle I turned to my companion, unable to resist temptation. She must have instantly read the purpose in my face, for she grasped my sleeve.
"No; you must not think of remaining a moment longer. There will be a seat reserved for me, and Captain Grant is coming this way now. Something is wrong, I am sure; I have no time to explain, but promise me you will leave here at once—at once."
Her eyes, her words, were so insistent I could not refuse, although as I glanced about I felt convinced there was no danger in this assemblage, not a familiar face meeting mine. At the instant Grant came up, elbowing his way through the press, and staring insolently into my eyes, even as he bowed politely to the lady beside me.
"At least this is my privilege," he insisted, "unless there be another previous engagement of which I am ignorant."
"Oh, no," and she rested her hands on the green sleeve, smiling from his face into mine. "We were waiting for you to come. Good-night, Lieutenant Fortesque."
They had taken a step or two, when Grant halted, holding her arm tightly as he glanced back to where I stood.
"Would Lieutenant Fortesque spare me a moment after I have found the lady a seat?" he questioned politely.
"Gladly, if you do not keep me waiting too long."
"Then there will be no delay. Shall we say the parlor below?"
I bowed, conscious of the mute appeal in the lady's face, yet with no excuse for refusal.
"As well there as anywhere, sir."
Once again we bowed with all the punctilious ceremony of mutual dislike, and he whispered something into her ear as they disappeared in the stream of people. My cheeks burned with indignation at his cool insolence. What could it mean? Was he merely seeking a quarrel? or was there something else concealed behind this request? In either case I knew not how to act, and yet felt no inclination to avoid the meeting. Studying over the situation I pushed my way through the crowd across the floor of the ball-room. There were a few people still lingering on the stairs, but, except for the servants, the parlors below were deserted. I walked the length of one of the great rooms, and halted in front of a fireplace to await Grant's coming. I was eager to have this affair settled, and be off. I comprehended now the risk I had assumed by remaining so long, and began to feel the cords of entanglement drawing about me. There was a door opposite where I stood, and, staring toward it, I saw it open slightly, and, back in the darkness, the beckoning of a hand. Startled, yet realizing that it must mean me, I stepped closer, gripping the hilt of my sword, half suspecting treachery.
"Quick," and I recognized the deep contralto of the voice. "Don't stop to question; there is not a moment to lose."
CHAPTER VI
THE THREAT OF SWORDS
Stepping from the glare of those gleaming parlor lights into the gloom of that narrow passage, blinded me for the instant, yet a moment later, I became aware of the distant glimmer of a candle, the faint reflection revealing the girl's face.
"Please do not talk; do not ask anything—yet," she urged hurriedly, noiselessly closing the door at my back, and as instantly gripping my sleeve. Her breath came quickly; her voice trembled from suppressed excitement. "Come with me, beyond the light yonder."
I followed her guidance, bewildered, yet having every confidence the reason for this mysterious occurrence must be fully justified. The passage curved slightly, terminating at a closed door. Scarce a reflection of the candle reached us here, yet my eyes were by now sufficiently accustomed to the gloom so that I could trace the outlines of her face. A vague doubt took possession of me.
"You are causing me to run away from Grant," I protested blindly. "You are making me appear afraid to meet him."
"No,