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III

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"You are not in the habit of frequenting brilliant functions?" Stephen asked of Marjorie when they were quite alone. It was customary for the older folks to retire from the company of the younger set shortly after the dinner grace had been said. Of course grace had to be said; Mr. Allison would permit no bread to be broken at his house without first imploring benedictions from Heaven, and, when the formalities of the meal had been concluded, of returning thanks for the good things enjoyed.

"I never have attended before," answered Marjorie, smoothing out a side of her apron with her hand.

"You are quite friendly with the Shippen family, I understand."

"Oh, yes! For several years we have been united. I am invited to all their functions. Still I am not fond of society."

"And you spend your time alone?" Stephen was persistent in his questions as he sat opposite to her and studied her expression.

"Between here and the store, and perhaps with Peggy. That is about all for I seldom visit. I am hopelessly old-fashioned in some things, mother tells me, and I suppose you will say the same if I tell you more," and she looked at him slyly, with her head half-raised, her lips parted somewhat in a quizzical smile.

"Not at all! You are what I rather hoped to find you, although I did not dare to give expression to it. You can, possibly, be of some assistance to me."

"Gladly would I perform any service, however humble, for the cause of our country," Marjorie sat upright, all attention at the thought.

"You remember I told you that I was detailed in the city on special work," Stephen went on.

"I do."

"Well, it is a special work but it also is a very indefinite work. There is a movement afoot, but of its nature, and purpose, I at this moment am entirely ignorant. I am here to discover clews."

"And have you no material to work on except that? It is very vague, to say the least."

"That and suspicion. Howe found the city a nest of Tories; but he also found it swarmed with patriots, whose enthusiasm, and vigor, and patience, and determination must have impressed him profoundly, and portended disaster for the British cause. With the morale of the people so high, and renewed hope and confidence swelling their bosoms, a complete military victory must have appeared hopeless to the British General. What was left? Dissension, or rebellion, or treason, or anything that will play havoc with the united determination of the Colonists."

She breathed heavily as she rested her chin on her hand absorbed in the vision that he was calling up.

"Arnold's victory at Saratoga has convinced Britain that the war over here cannot be won," he continued. "Already has Lord North thrown a bomb into the ranks of the proud Tories by his liberal proposals. Of course they will be entirely rejected by us and the war will continue until complete independence is acknowledged. True, we had no such idea in mind when we entered this conflict, but now we are convinced that victory is on our side and that a free and independent form of government is the most suitable for us. We have enunciated certain principles which are possible of realization only under a democratic form of government, where the people rule and where the rulers are responsible to the people. Such a system is possible only in a great republic, and that is what England must now recognize. Otherwise the war must go on."

"Have our aims taken such definite form. I know——"

"No! They have not," interrupted Stephen, "they have not and that is where trouble is to be expected. Such is the state of mind, however, of many of the more experienced leaders, but their opinion will lose weight. It is because all are not united in this, that there is room for treason under the motive of misguided patriotism. And it is to scent every possible form of that disloyalty that I have been sent here; sent to the very place where the Tories most abound and where such a plot is most liable to take root."

"And you expect me to be of assistance to you?" asked Marjorie, proud of the confidence which she so readily gained.

"I expect much. But perhaps nothing will eventuate. I can rely on you, however. For the present, naught is to be done. When the time comes, I shall tell you."

"But what can I do? I am but a mere girl."

"Did I think you to be ordinary, I might not have asked you," quickly exchanged Stephen.

Marjorie dropped her head and began studying the stitches in her gown. But only for a second, for she as quickly raised her head and asked:

"Wherein, then, can I be of service to you?"

"Listen!" He brought his chair to a point nearly opposite hers. She was seated on the settee, yet he made no attempt to share it with her.

"You are friendly with the Shippen family," he went on. "Now, do not misinterpret me. I shall require no betrayal of confidence. But it is generally known that the Shippens are Tories, not avowedly so, yet in heart and in thought. It is also generally known that their house was the center of society during the days of the British occupation, at which all manner of men assembled. The walls of that house, could they but speak, would be able to relate many momentous conversations held over the teacups, or in quiet corners. The family themselves must know many things which might be invaluable to us."

"And you want me to learn that for you?" inquired Marjorie in alarm as the horrible thought forced itself upon her.

"I want you to do nothing of the kind," quickly answered Stephen. "Far be it from me to require you to barter your benevolence. I should deplore any such method as most dishonorable and unworthy of the noble cause in which we are engaged. No! I ask this, simply, that through you I might be permitted the honor of visiting the home of Miss Shippen and that by being acquainted with the family I might acquire a general entrée to the Tory social circle. In this way I might effect my purpose and perchance stumble across information of vital importance. Thus can you be of great assistance to me."

"I shall be delighted to do this, and I shall tell you more—perhaps you may ask me to do something more noble—sometime——" She hesitated to express the wish which was father to her thought.

"Sometime I expect you to be of real service to me and to our country—sometime——"

Marjorie did not answer. She knew what she would like to say, but dared not. Why should he unfold his mission to her at this, almost their first meeting? And why should he expect her to be of such assistance to him, to him, first, and then to the country? And then, why should she feel so responsive, so ready to spend herself, her energy, her whole being at the mere suggestion of this young man, whom until last evening, she had never thought to exist. She felt that she was as wax in the hands of this soldier; she knew it and enjoyed it and only awaited the moment when his seal would come down upon her and stamp her more to his liking. She was slightly younger than he, and happily his contrary in nearly all respects. He was fair, she was dark; his eyes were blue, hers brown; he was lusty and showed promise of broadness, she was slender.

Twice she opened her mouth as if to speak to him, and each time she dropped again her head in reflective silence. She did not talk to this young man as she might to any number of her more intimate acquaintances. Even the very silence was magnetic. Further utterance would dispel the charm. That she would enlist in his service she knew as well as she knew her own existence, but that he should arouse so keen an interest in her, so buoyant an attitude, so secure an assurance, amazed her and filled her with awe. She had never before experienced quite the same sensation that now dismayed her nor had any one ever brought home to her her worth as did this young soldier. Yes she would help him, but in what way?

And so they sat and considered and talked. They soon forgot to talk about His Excellency, or the Army, or the Shippens. Neither did they resolve the doubts that might have been entertained concerning the manner of men who frequented the home of Peggy and her sisters; nor the Alliance which had just been established, nor the vital signification of the event. They just talked over a field of affairs none of which bore any special relation to any one save their own selves. At length the old clock felt constrained to speak up and frown at them for their unusual delay and their profligate waste of tallow and dips.

Stephen rose at once. Marjorie saw him to the door, where she gave him her hand in parting.

"We have indeed been honored this day, Captain, and I trust that the near future will see a return of the same. I am entirely at your service," whispered Marjorie, wondering why the words did not come to her more readily.

"On the contrary, Miss Allison, it is I who have been privileged. My humble respects to your parents. Adieu!"

He bowed gracefully, wheeled, and went out the door.

The Loyalist

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