The Hidden Children

As for her silly desire to go to Catharines-town, the more I thought about it the less serious consideration did I give it. The thing was, of course, impossible. No soldiers' wives were to be permitted to go as far as Wyalusing or Wyoming. Even here, at this encampment, the officers' ladies had left, although perhaps many of them might have remained longer with their husbands had it been known that the departure of the troops for Otsego Lake was to be delayed by the slow arrival of cattle and provisions.

In the meantime, the two companies of my regiment attached to this brigade were still out on scout with Major Parr; and when they returned I made no doubt that we would shoulder packs, harness our wagons, and take the lake road next morning.

And what would become of Lois? Perplexed and dejected, I wandered about the willow-run, pondering the situation; sat for a while on the river-bank to watch the batteaux and the Oneida canoes; then, ever restless with my deepening solicitude for Lois, I walked over to the fort. And the first man I laid eyes on was Lieutenant Boyd, conversing with some ladies on the parade.

He did not see me. He had evidently returned from the main body with a small scout the night before, and now was up and dressed in his best, spick and span and gay, fairly shining in the sunlight as he stood leaning against a log prop, talking with these ladies where they were seated on one of the rustic settles lately made by Alden's men.

Venturing nearer, I found that I knew all of the ladies, for one was the handsome wife of Captain Bleecker, of the 3rd New York, and another proved to be Angelina Lansing, wife of Gerrit Lansing, Ensign in the same regiment.

The third lady was a complete surprise to me, she being that pretty and vivacious Magdalene Helmer—called Lana—the confidante of Clarissa Putnam—a bright-eyed, laughing beauty from Tribes Hill, whom I had known very well at Guy Park, where she often stayed with her friend, Miss Putnam, when Sir John Johnson was there.

As I recognised them, Boyd chanced to glance around, and saw me. He smiled and spoke to the ladies; all lifted their heads and looked in my direction; and Lana Helmer waved her handkerchief and coolly blew me a kiss from her finger-tips.

So, cap in hand, I crossed the parade, made my best bow and respects to each in turn, replaced my cap, and saluted Lieutenant Boyd, who returned my salute with pretended hauteur, then grinned and offered his hand.

"See what a bower of beauty is blossomed over night in these dreary barracks, Loskiel. There seems to be some happiness left in the world for the poor rifleman."

"Do you remain?" I asked of Mrs. Bleecker.

"Indeed we do," she said, laughing, "provided that my husband's regiment remains. As soon as we understood that they had not been ordered into the Indian country we packed our boxes and came up by batteau last night. The news about my husband's regiment is true, is it not?"

"Colonel Gansevoort's regiment is not to join General Sullivan, but is to be held to guard the Valley. I had the news yesterday for certain."

"What luck!" said Boyd, his handsome eyes fixed on Lana Helmer, who shot at him a glance as daring. And it made me uneasy to see she meant to play coquette with such a man as Boyd; and I remembered her high spirits and bright daring at the somewhat loose gatherings at Guy Park, where every evening too much wine was drunk, and Sir John and Clarissa made no secret of the flame that burned between them.

Yet, of Lana Helmer never a suspicious word had been breathed that ever I had heard—for it seemed she could dare where others dared not; say and do and be what another woman might not, as though her wit and beauty licensed what had utterly damned another. Nor did her devotion and close companionship with Clarissa ever seem to raise a question as to her own personal behaviour. And well I remember a gay company being at cards and wine one day in the summer house on the river hew she answered a disrespect of Sir John with a contemptuous rebuke which sent the muddy blood into his face and left him ashamed—the only time I ever saw him so.

Ensign Chambers came a-mincing up, was presented to the ladies, languidly made preparations for taking Mrs. Lansing by storm; and the first deadly grace he pictured for her was his macaroni manner of taking snuff—with which fascinating ceremony he had turned many a silly head in New York ere we marched out and the British marched in.

I talked for a while with Mrs. Bleecker of this and that, striving the while to catch Lana Helmer's eye. For not only did her coquetry with Boyd make me uneasy, knowing them both as I did, but on my own account I desired to speak to her in private when opportunity afforded. Alone and singly either of these people stood in no danger from the outer world. Pitted against each other, what their recklessness might lead to I did not know. For since Boyd's attempted gallantries toward Lois—he believing her to be as youthful and depraved as seemed the case—a deep and growing distrust for this man which I had never before felt had steadily invaded my friendship for him. Also, he had already an affair with a handsome wench at the Middle Fort, one Dolly Glenn, and the poor young thing was plainly mad about him.

I heard Mrs. Lansing propose a stroll to the river before dinner, on the chance of meeting her husband's regiment returning, which suggestion seemed to suit all; and in the confusion of chatter and laughter and the tying of a sun-mask by Mrs. Bleecker, aided by Boyd and by the exquisite courtier, I cleverly contrived to supplant Boyd with Lana Helmer, and not only stuck to her side, but managed to secure the rear of the strolling column.

All this manoeuvre did not escape her, and as we fell a few paces behind, she looked up at me with a most deadly challenge in her violet eyes.

"Now," she said, "that you have driven off your rival, I am resigned to be courted.... Heaven knows you wasted opportunities enough at Guy Park."

I laughed.

"How strange it is, Lana," I said, "to be here with you; I in rifle dress and thrums, hatchet, and knife at my Mohawk girdle; you in chip hat and ribbons and dainty gown, lifting your French petticoat over the muddy ruts cut on the King's Highway by rebel artillery!"

"Who would have dreamed it three years ago?" she said, her face now sober enough.

"I thought your people were Tory," said I.

"Not mine, Euan; Clarissa's."

"Where is that child?" I asked pityingly.

"Clarissa? Poor lamb—she's in Albany still."

I did not speak, but it was as though she divined my unasked question.

"Aye, she is in love with him yet. I never could understand how that could be after he married Polly Watts. But she has not changed.... And that beast, Sir John, installed her in the Albany house."

I said: "He's somewhere out yonder with the marauders against whom we are to march. They're all awaiting us, it is said; the whole crew—Johnson's Greens, Butler's Rangers, McDonald's painted Tories, Brant's Mohawks—and the Senecas with their war-chiefs and their sorcerer, Amochol—truly a motley devil's brood, Lana; and I pray only that one of Morgan's men may sight Walter Butler or Sir John over his rifle's end."

"To think," she murmured, "that you and I have dined and wined with these same gentlemen you now so ardently desire to slay.... And young Walter Butler, too! I saw his mother and his sister in Albany a week ago—two sad and pitiable women, Euan, for every furtive glance cast after them seemed to shout aloud the infamy of their son and brother, the Murderer of Cherry Valley."

"To my mind," said I, "he is not sane at all, but gone stark blood-mad. Heaven! How impossible it seems that this young man with his handsome face and figure, his dreamy melancholy, his charming voice and manners, his skill in verse and music, can be this same Walter Butler whose name is cursed wherever righteousness and honour exist in human breasts. Why, even Joseph Brant has spurned him, they say, since Cherry Valley! Even his own father stood aghast before such infamy. Old John Butler, when he heard the news, dashed his hands to his temples, groaning out: 'I would have crawled from this place to Cherry Valley on my hands and knees to save those people; and why my son did not spare them, God only knows.'"

Lana shook her pretty head.

"I can not seem to believe it of him even yet. I try to think of Walter as a murderer of little children, and it is not possible. Why, it seems but yesterday that I stood plaguing him on the stone doorstep at Guy Park—calling him Walter Ninny and Walter Noodle to vex him. You remember, Euan, that his full name is Walter N. Butler, and that he never would tell us what the N. stands for, but we guessed it stood for Nellis, in honour of Nellis Fonda.... Lord! What a world o' trouble for us all in these three years!"

"I had supposed you married long ago, Lana. The young Patroon was very ardent."

"I? The sorry supposition! I marry—in the face of the sad and miserable examples all my friends afford me! Not I, Euan, unless–" She smiled at me with pretty malice. "–you enter the lists. Do you then enter?" I reddened and laughed, and she, always enchanted to plague and provoke me, began her art forthwith, first innocently slipping her arm through mine, as though to support her flagging steps, then, as if by accident, letting one light finger slip along my sleeve to touch my hand and linger lightly.

Years ago, when we were but seventeen, she had delighted to tease and embarrass me with her sweetly malicious coquetry, ever on the watch to observe my features redden. I remember she sometimes offered to exchange kisses with me; but I was a ninny, and a serious and hopeless one at that, and would have none of her.

I believe we were thinking of the same thing now, and when I caught her eye the gay malice of it was not to be mistaken.

"Lanette," said I, "take care! I am a soldier since you had your saucy way with me. You know that the military are not to be dealt with lightly. And I am grown up in these three years."

"Grown soberer, perhaps. You always did conduct like a pious Broad-brim, Euan."

"I've a mind to kiss you now," said I, vexed.

"Kiss away, kind sir. You have me in the rear of them. Now's your opportunity!"

"Doubtless you'd cry out."

"Doubtless I wouldn't."

"Wait for some moonlit evening when we're unobserved–"

"Broad-brim!"

I laughed, and so did she, saying:

"I warrant you that your pretty Lieutenant Boyd had never waited for my challenge twice!"

"Best look out for Boyd," said I. "He's of your own careless, reckless kind, Lanette. Sparks fly when flint and steel encounter."

"Cold sparks, friend Broad-brim!"

"Not too cold to set tinder afire."