"Impossible! oh! but for a week suspend your judgment. On my knees I entreat you, as you will expect mercy yourself, when no human power can avail you, give him but a day."
"It is impossible," repeated the colonel, in a voice that was nearly choked. "Our orders are peremptory, and too long delay has been given already."
He turned from the kneeling suppliant, but could not, or would not, extricate that hand that she grasped with frenzied fervor.
"Remand your prisoner," said one of the judges to the officer who had the charge of Henry. "Colonel Singleton, shall we withdraw?"
"Singleton! Singleton!" echoed Frances. "Then you are a father, and know how to pity a father"s woes; you cannot, will not, wound a heart that is now nearly crushed. Hear me, Colonel Singleton; as G.o.d will listen to your dying prayers, hear me, and spare my brother!"
"Remove her," said the colonel, gently endeavoring to extricate his hand; but none appeared disposed to obey. Frances eagerly strove to read the expression of his averted face, and resisted all his efforts to retire.
"Colonel Singleton! how lately was your own son in suffering and in danger! Under the roof of my father he was cherished-under my father"s roof he found shelter and protection. Oh! suppose that son the pride of your age, the solace and protection of your infant children, and then p.r.o.nounce my brother guilty, if you dare!"
"What right has Heath to make an executioner of me!" exclaimed the veteran fiercely, rising with a face flushed like fire, and every vein and artery swollen with suppressed emotion. "But I forget myself; come, gentlemen, let us mount, our painful duty must be done."
"Mount not! go not!" shrieked Frances. "Can you tear a son from his parent-a brother from his sister, so coldly? Is this the cause I have so ardently loved? Are these the men that I have been taught to reverence? But you relent, you do hear me, you will pity and forgive."
"Lead on, gentlemen," said the colonel, motioning towards the door, and erecting himself into an air of military grandeur, in the vain hope of quieting his feelings.
"Lead not on, but hear me," cried Frances, grasping his hand convulsively. "Colonel Singleton, you are a father!-pity-mercy-mercy for the son! mercy for the daughter! Yes-you had a daughter. On this bosom she poured out her last breath; these hands closed her eyes; these very hands, that are now clasped in prayer, did those offices for her that you condemn my poor, poor brother, to require."
One mighty emotion the veteran struggled with, and quelled; but with a groan that shook his whole frame. He even looked around in conscious pride at his victory; but a second burst of feeling conquered. His head, white with the frost of seventy winters, sank upon the shoulder of the frantic suppliant. The sword that had been his companion in so many fields of blood dropped from his nerveless hand, and as he cried, "May G.o.d bless you for the deed!" he wept aloud.
Long and violent was the indulgence that Colonel Singleton yielded to his feelings. On recovering, he gave the senseless Frances into the arms of her aunt, and, turning with an air of fort.i.tude to his comrades, he said,-
"Still, gentlemen, we have our duty as officers to discharge; our feelings as men may be indulged hereafter. What is your pleasure with the prisoner?"
One of the judges placed in his hand a written sentence, that he had prepared while the colonel was engaged with Frances, and declared it to be the opinion of himself and his companion.
It briefly stated that Henry Wharton had been detected in pa.s.sing the lines of the American army as a spy, and in disguise. That thereby, according to the laws of war, he was liable to suffer death, and that this court adjudged him to the penalty; recommending him to be executed by hanging, before nine o"clock on the following morning.
It was not usual to inflict capital punishments, even on the enemy, without referring the case to the commander in chief, for his approbation; or, in his absence, to the officer commanding for the time being. But, as Washington held his headquarters at New Windsor, on the western bank of the Hudson, there was sufficient time to receive his answer.
"This is short notice," said the veteran, holding the pen in his hand, in a suspense that had no object; "not a day to fit one so young for heaven?"
"The royal officers gave Hale [Footnote: An American officer of this name was detected within the British lines, in disguise, in search of military information. He was tried and executed, as stated in the text, as soon as the preparations could be made. It is said that he was reproached under the gallows with dishonoring the rank he held by his fate. "What a death for an officer to die!" said one of his captors. "Gentlemen, any death is honorable when a man dies in a cause like that of America," was his answer. Andre was executed amid the tears of his enemies; Hale died unpitied and with reproaches in his ears; and yet one was the victim of ambition, and the other of devotion to his country. Posterity will do justice between them.] but an hour," returned his comrade; "we have granted the usual time. But Washington has the power to extend it, or to pardon."
"Then to Washington will I go," cried the colonel, returning the paper with his signature; "and if the services of an old man like me, or that brave boy of mine, ent.i.tle me to his ear, I will yet save the youth."
So saying, he departed, full of his generous intentions in favor of Henry Wharton.
The sentence of the court was communicated, with proper tenderness, to the prisoner; and after giving a few necessary instructions to the officer in command, and dispatching a courier to headquarters with their report, the remaining judges mounted, and rode to their own quarters, with the same unmoved exterior, but with the consciousness of the same dispa.s.sionate integrity, that they had maintained throughout the trial.
CHAPTER XXVII
Have you no countermand for Claudio yet, But he must die to-morrow?
-Measure for Measure.
A few hours were pa.s.sed by the prisoner, after his sentence was received, in the bosom of his family. Mr. Wharton wept in hopeless despondency over the untimely fate of his son; and Frances, after recovering from her insensibility, experienced an anguish of feeling to which the bitterness of death itself would have been comparatively light. Miss Peyton alone retained a vestige of hope, or presence of mind to suggest what might be proper to be done under their circ.u.mstances. The comparative composure of the good aunt arose in no degree from any want of interest in the welfare of her nephew, but it was founded in a kind of instinctive dependence on the character of Washington. He was a native of the same colony with herself; and although his early military services, and her frequent visits to the family of her sister, and subsequent establishment at its head, had prevented their ever meeting, still she was familiar with his domestic virtues, and well knew that the rigid inflexibility for which his public acts were distinguished formed no part of his reputation in private life. He was known in Virginia as a consistent but just and lenient master; and she felt a kind of pride in a.s.sociating in her mind her countryman with the man who led the armies, and in a great measure controlled the destinies, of America. She knew that Henry was innocent of the crime for which he was condemned to suffer, and, with that kind of simple faith that is ever to be found in the most ingenuous characters, could not conceive of those constructions and interpretations of law that inflicted punishment without the actual existence of crime. But even her confiding hopes were doomed to meet with a speedy termination. Towards noon, a regiment of militia, that were quartered on the banks of the river, moved to the ground in front of the house that held our heroine and her family, and deliberately pitched their tents, with the avowed intention of remaining until the following morning, to give solemnity and effect to the execution of a British spy.
Dunwoodie had performed all that was required of him by his orders, and was at liberty to retrace his steps to his expectant squadron, which was impatiently waiting his return to be led against a detachment of the enemy that was known to be slowly moving up the banks of the river, in order to cover a party of foragers in its rear. He was accompanied by a small party of Lawton"s troop, under the expectation that their testimony might be required to convict the prisoner; and Mason, the lieutenant, was in command. But the confession of Captain Wharton had removed the necessity of examining any witnesses on behalf of the people. [Footnote: In America justice is administered in the name of "the good people," etc., etc., the sovereignty residing with them.] The major, from an unwillingness to encounter the distress of Henry"s friends, and a dread of trusting himself within its influence, had spent the time we have mentioned in walking by himself, in keen anxiety, at a short distance from the dwelling. Like Miss Peyton, he had some reliance on the mercy of Washington, although moments of terrific doubt and despondency were continually crossing his mind. To him the rules of service were familiar, and he was more accustomed to consider his general in the capacity of a ruler, than as exhibiting the characteristics of the individual. A dreadful instance had too recently occurred, which fully proved that Washington was above the weakness of sparing another in mercy to himself. While pacing, with hurried steps, through the orchard, laboring under these constantly recurring doubts, enlivened by transient rays of hope, Mason approached, accoutered completely for the saddle.
"Thinking you might have forgotten the news brought this morning from below, sir, I have taken the liberty to order the detachment under arms," said the lieutenant, very coolly, cutting down with his sheathed saber the mullein tops that grew within his reach.
"What news?" cried the major, starting.
"Only that John Bull is out in Westchester, with a train of wagons, which, if he fills, will compel us to retire through these cursed hills, in search of provender. These greedy Englishmen are so shut up on York Island, that when they do venture out, they seldom leave straw enough to furnish the bed of a Yankee heiress."
"Where did the express leave them, did you say? The intelligence has entirely escaped my memory."
"On the heights above Sing Sing," returned the lieutenant, with no little amazement. "The road below looks like a hay market, and all the swine are sighing forth their lamentations, as the corn pa.s.ses them towards King"s Bridge. George Singleton"s orderly, who brought up the tidings, says that our horses were holding consultation if they should not go down without their riders, and eat another meal, for it is questionable with them whether they can get a full stomach again. If they are suffered to get back with their plunder, we shall not be able to find a piece of pork at Christmas fat enough to fry itself."
"Peace, with all this nonsense of Singleton"s orderly, Mr. Mason," cried Dunwoodie, impatiently; "let him learn to wait the orders of his superiors."
"I beg pardon in his name, Major Dunwoodie," said the subaltern; "but, like myself, he was in error. We both thought it was the order of General Heath, to attack and molest the enemy whenever he ventured out of his nest."
"Recollect yourself, Lieutenant Mason," said the major, "or I may have to teach you that your orders pa.s.s through me."
"I know it, Major Dunwoodie-I know it; and I am sorry that your memory is so bad as to forget that I never have yet hesitated to obey them."
"Forgive me, Mason," cried Dunwoodie, taking both his hands. "I do know you for a brave and obedient soldier; forget my humor. But this business-had you ever a friend?"
"Nay, nay," interrupted the lieutenant, "forgive me and my honest zeal. I knew of the orders, and was fearful that censure might fall on my officer. But remain, and let a man breathe a syllable against the corps, and every sword will start from the scabbard of itself; besides, they are still moving up, and it is a long road from Croton to King"s Bridge. Happen what may, I see plainly that we shall be on their heels before they are housed again."
"Oh! that the courier was returned from headquarters!" exclaimed Dunwoodie. "This suspense is insupportable."
"You have your wish," cried Mason. "Here he is at the moment, and riding like the bearer of good news. G.o.d send it may be so; for I can"t say that I particularly like myself to see a brave young fellow dancing upon nothing."
Dunwoodie heard but very little of this feeling declaration; for, ere half of it was uttered, he had leaped the fence and stood before the messenger.
"What news?" cried the major, the moment that the soldier stopped his horse.
"Good!" exclaimed the man; and feeling no hesitation to intrust an officer so well known as Major Dunwoodie, he placed the paper in his hands, as he added, "but you can read it, sir, for yourself."
Dunwoodie paused not to read; but flew, with the elastic spring of joy, to the chamber of the prisoner. The sentinel knew him, and he was suffered to pa.s.s without question.
"Oh! Peyton," cried Frances, as he entered the apartment, "you look like a messenger from heaven! Bring you tidings of mercy?"
"Here, Frances-here, Henry-here, dear cousin Jeanette," cried the youth, as with trembling hands he broke the seal; "here is the letter itself, directed to the captain of the guard. But listen-"
All did listen with intense anxiety; and the pang of blasted hope was added to their misery, as they saw the glow of delight which had beamed on the countenance of the major give place to a look of horror. The paper contained the sentence of the court, and underneath was written these simple words,-
"Approved-GEO. WASHINGTON."
"He"s lost, he"s lost!" cried Frances, sinking into the arms of her aunt.
"My son! my son!" sobbed the father, "there is mercy in heaven, if there is none on earth. May Washington never want that mercy he thus denies to my innocent child!"