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PAGE 20

Thankful Blossom
by [?]

“Oh! I met no one, your Excellency,” said the usually truthful Thankful hastily, rushing to her first lie with grateful impetuosity.

“And saw no one?” asked Washington quietly.

“No one,” said Thankful, raising her brown eyes to the general’s.

They both looked at each other,–the naturally most veracious young woman in the colonies, and the subsequent allegorical impersonation of truth in America,–and knew each other lied, and, I imagine, respected each other for it.

“I am glad to hear you say so, Mistress Thankful,” said Washington quietly; “for ‘twould have been natural for you to have sought an interview with your recreant lover in yonder camp, though the attempt would have been unwise and impossible.”

“I had no such thought, your Excellency,” said Thankful, who had really quite forgotten her late intention; “yet, if with your permission I could hold a few moments’ converse with Capt. Brewster, it would greatly ease my mind.”

“‘Twould not be well for the present,” said Washington thoughtfully. “But in a day or two Capt. Brewster will be tried by court-martial at Morristown. It shall be so ordered that when he is conveyed thither his guard shall halt at the Blossom Farm. I will see that the officer in command gives you an opportunity to see him. And I think I can promise also, Mistress Thankful, that your father shall be also present under his own roof, a free man.”

They had reached the entrance to the mansion, and entered the hall. Thankful turned impulsively, and kissed the extended hand of the commander. “You are so good! I have been so foolish–so very, very wrong,” she said, with a slight trembling of her lip. “And your Excellency believes my story; and those gentlemen were NOT spies, but even as they gave themselves to be.”

“I said not that much,” replied Washington with a kindly smile, “but no matter. Tell me rather, Mistress Thankful, how far your acquaintance with these gentlemen has gone; or did it end with the box on the ear that you gave the baron?”

“He had asked me to ride with him to the Baskingridge, and I–had said–yes,” faltered Mistress Thankful.

“Unless I misjudge you, Mistress Thankful, you can without great sacrifice promise me that you will not see him until I give you my permission,” said Washington, with grave playfulness.

The swinging light shone full in Thankful’s truthful eyes as she lifted them to his.

“I do,” she said quietly.

“Good-night,” said the commander, with a formal bow.

“Good-night, your Excellency.”

IV

The sun was high over the Short Hills when Mistress Thankful, the next day, drew up her sweating mare beside the Blossom Farm gate. She had never looked prettier, she had never felt more embarrassed, as she entered her own house. During her rapid ride she had already framed a speech of apology to Major Van Zandt, which, however, utterly fled from her lips as that officer showed himself respectfully on the threshold. Yet she permitted him to usurp the functions of the grinning Caesar, and help her from her horse; albeit she was conscious of exhibiting the awkward timidity of a bashful rustic, until at last, with a stammering, “Thank ye,” she actually ran up stairs to hide her glowing face and far too conscious eyelids.

During the rest of that day Major Van Zandt quietly kept out of the way, without obtrusively seeming to avoid her. Yet, when they met casually in the performance of her household duties, the innocent Mistress Thankful noticed, under her downcast penitential eyelids, that the eyes of the officer followed her intently. And thereat she fell unconsciously to imitating him; and so they eyed each other furtively like cats, and rubbed themselves along the walls of rooms and passages when they met, lest they should seem designedly to come near each other, and enacted the gravest and most formal of genuflexions, courtesies, and bows, when they accidentally DID meet. And just at the close of the second day, as the elegant Major Van Zandt was feeling himself fast becoming a drivelling idiot and an awkward country booby, the arrival of a courier from headquarters saved that gentleman his self-respect forever.