The Heart

But I had made up my mind to touch neither that nor the tobacco on

Drake Hill, lest in some way the women of the Cavendish family be

implicated.

"There be enough, and more than enough, for to-night," I answered,

and would have passed, but she would not let me.

"Harry," she cried, so loud that I feared for listening ears, "if

you cut not down my tobacco, then will I myself! Harry, promise me!"

No love nor fear for me was in her eyes as she looked at me, only

that enthusiasm for the cause of liberty, and I loved her better for

it, if that could be. A man or woman who is but a bond slave to love

and incapable of aught but the longing for it, is but a poor lover.

"I tell thee, Harry, cut down the plants on Laurel Creek!" she cried

again, and I answered to appease her, not daring violent

contradiction lest I rouse her to some desperate act, this wild,

young maid with Nathaniel Bacon's hair in the locket against her

heart, and as fiery blood as his in her veins, that it should come

in good time, but that I was under the leadership of others and not

my own.

"Then as soon as may be, Harry," she persisted, "for sure I should

die of shame were my plants standing and the others cut, and Harry,

sure it could not be at all, were it not for my fine gowns which the

'Golden Horn' brought over from England!"

With that she laughed, and stood aside to let me pass, but suddenly,

as I touched her in the narrow way, her mood changed, and the woman

in her came uppermost, though not to her shaking. But she caught

hold of my right arm with her two little hands and pressed her fair

cheek against my shoulder with that modest boldness of a maid when

she is assured of love, and whispered: "Harry, if the militia is

ordered out they say they will not fire, but--if thou be wounded,

Harry, 'tis I will nurse thee, and no other, and--Harry, cut all the

plants that thou art able, before they come."

Then she let me go, and I went forth thinking that here was a

helpmeet for a soldier in such times as these, and how I gloried in

her because she held her love as one with glory. Round to the stable

for my horse I stole, and it was very dark, with a soft smother of

darkness because of a heavy mist, and the moon not up, and I had

backed my horse out of his stall and was about to mount him, before

I was aware of a dark figure lurking in shadow, and made out by the

long sweep of the garments that it was a woman. I paused, and looked

intently into the shadow, where she stood so silently that she might

have deceived me had it not been for a flutter of her cloak in a

stray wind.