Tale of Revolution H* TV i^^x A -X^^rraRr fc / / 4 IL- My Grandmother. THE SILVER BUCKLE A STORY OF THE BY M. NATALINE CRUMPTON ILLUSTRATIONS BY CORNELIA E. BEDFORD PHILADELPHIA HENRY ALTEMUS PRELUDE. " And what delights c-an equal those That stir the spirit s inner deeps, When one that loves but knows not, reaps A truth from one that loves and knows?" Tennyson. IT is natural to take pleasure in recollections of the past, and to feel an interest in prophecies of the future. The old man delights in every opportunity to begin a tale, " When I was young," or to show his wisdom by foretelling how things will be " twenty years from now." The child makes countless plans that begin with the words, " When I am big/ and listens eagerly to stories of things that happened long ago. This natural instinct is fostered and encouraged by Memory and Imagination. Is it any wonder that, in the early stages of civilization, when life s horizon was small, the history and the literature of a people were preserved by tradition only? My grandmother was one of those blessed persons who have the ability to tell interesting stories to the young. In my early child hood she began with the old nursery rhymes and jingles; then she advanced to fables and fairy tales; then came ballads of war and love; and lastly, in the dawning years of my womanhood, she told me many adventures and romances of real life. All her stories were of the purest character, and were told with dramatic fervor, tone and gesture responding to sentiment. She repeated a story for the twentieth time with the same patient exact ness that she had shown at first, and I listened with the same in spiring attention. As the years passed there came a gentle tremor to her tone, a slight hesitation to her speech; there was a little effort 5 6 THE SILVER BUCKLE. in recalling details, but the interest of narrator and of listener never flagged. A favorite story was one connected with her mother s youth. The bare outlines of this were often told me in my childhood, but in the later years of my girlhood the story was repeated with minute descriptions of place and character, with timely comments and appropriate discussions. She had heard the story from her mother a hundred times, she had been familiar with some of the scenes, she had known some of the actors, and had in her possession a number of their letters and a few well-preserved pages of an old diary. And to my grandmother s unwritten story there was one allur ing illustration, serving as frontispiece and finis, present to my eyes, perceptible to my touch, a pair of silver buckles. These silver relics are now mine; the hands that caressed them are folded, the voice that charmed me is silent. Still the recollection of the story fascinates me, and I have resolved to relate it to others. In doing so I shall find delight, and may perhaps give pleasure. THE SILVER BUCKLE CHAPTER I. DOUBT. " The heart has reasons that reason does not know." Pascal. IT was Indian summer of the year 1774. In the back parlor of a plain two-story brick house, in the vicinity of Christ Church, in the populous city of Philadelphia, there sat two women. They belonged to the sect called in ruder speech " Quakers/ but known to every cultivated Philadelphia!! as " Friends." They were peaceful, placid-looking women, past the boundary of early woman hood, but not yet knocking at the portal of old age. Indeed, their season was not unlike the beautiful Indian summer, whose gracious presence filled the place with balmy air and mellow light. They had come from England in the same ship more than ten years ago, they dwelt near each other and were very intimate, heart answering unto heart. " Xow, Susan, said Rachel Fuller, in a tone of mild earnestness, " thee knows my perplexity. I cannot see whether the way is open for me to tell Hilda now or not." Rachel and her visitor, Susan Walton, were knitting without seeming to notice their work, and with a skill suggestive of relaxation rather than labor. " Well, Rachel," answered Susan, " does thee want to tell her? " " I must tell her some time. Susan: I consider the affair a trust. But T shrink from putting such fancies into her head, so I am trying to think it right to wait a little longer." "Rachel, why not treat the matter differently? Thee has no sympathy with that foolish old jest, so give the silver buckle to Hilda 7 8 THE SILVER BUCKLE. as a relic that belonged to her father, but do not tell her the story. Surely thee is not bound to aid such folly; thee was no party to the bargain." " Nay, Susan; according to my light, I am a party to the bar gain, though not by intent or purpose." Susan laid her knitting down upon her black silk apron, and looked at Rachel with astonishment and curiosity. " When I wrote for Hilda to come from England, after her moth er s death, I asked that Miriam s small personal effects might be sent also, promising to hold them in trust for Hilda till she was old enough to have them. And, Susan Walton, thee cannot think what a faintness came over me when I unpacked the little sea-chest and found the silver buckle. I felt that the true responsibility of the trust included the telling of the old story." " Has the buckle been a thorn in the flesh all these years, Rachel?" " Xay, Susan, I can hardly say that; for during Hilda s child hood I had no call to think of the matter. I always hoped that when the right time came there would be something to guide me; but, as yet, I have no clear light. Hilda is past seventeen, thee knows, and womanly beyond her years." The two women sat silent for a few moments. The afternoon was waning, but golden beams still brightened one side of the room. Above the mantel shelf hung a quaint sampler in a gilt frame. The sampler displayed a medley of devices, a large peacock, a wreath of stars, a church, a row of trees, an open book, a harp, a castle, a motto at top and bottom, and the plain statement that "Hilda Sedgeley wrought this sampler in the tenth year of her age." The mottoes, though perfectly familiar, seemed quaint and startling because of their strange surroundings. For above the incongruous devices were the words: " Resist the devil, and he will flee from you; " and at the lower margin was this record: " Blessed are the pure in heart." The upper part of the sampler was now in shadow, but a linger ing ray of sunshine still illumined the beatitude. Susan s eye rested upon it, and a new train of thought was started. The sampler had been a matter of discussion with her and Rachel when the youthful artist was portraying the designs. Susan THE SILVER RUCKLE. The two women sat silent for a few minutes. 10 THE SILVER BUCKLE. would have had the task of the little needlewoman guided, but Rachel had a feeling that Hilda ought to exercise her own fancy. " The trouble is, Rachel," said Susan, gently, " that thee has brought Hilda up according to thy sister Miriam s views, not thine." "Rather, Susan, I have tried to teach Hilda her mother s views as well as mine, and have allowed her freedom of opinion." " Yea, Rachel, I understand the delicacy of thy motives in re gard to Hilda, but some of the Friends have not hesitated to say that thee has lost a great opportunity by not rearing Hilda in strict accordance with Friends principles. ". ]. -know whit they would advise in this dilemma. They would think it thy duty to ignore the past." " Ignore the past? * sai<3 Rachel, with a quiver of excitement in her tone, "ignore the past? blot out my youth? forget the lovely sister from whom I was never absent one whole day for more than twenty years, and for whom I still mourn in secret? Why, Susan, does thee know that after all these years I can sometimes feel against my cheek the touch of her sweet lips? To me she personified youth, strength, glowing affection, hope, can I ignore this vivid past?" Rachel spoke with dramatic fervor, and tears were in her eyes. Such a display of emotion was new to Susan. She pressed Rachel s hand affectionately, saying, "My friend. I did not mean to wound thee." " T know thee. Susan r Walton," said Rachel, smiling gently. " I am ashamed of my weakness: T was shaken through every fibre of my being." " T do believe, Rachel, that troubles sometimes arise which can be understood only by the person who has to meet them. In such cases even the most intimate friends cannot counsel or criticise fairly." " Truly, Susan, it is so now with me." They resumed their knitting and sat in silence. Each was wait ing for a message from the still, small voice within. At last Susan said. " Thee is so strongly impressed with the responsibility of this trust that T know thee will weigh the subject carefully, and thy decision will be honest." " Dear Susan Walton," said Rachel, smiling, " thy charity never faileth." THE SILVER BUCKLE. 11 CHAPTER II. DECISION. " He that speaks, doth sow." THE sunset glow had entirely faded from the room when Susan Walton took her leave. As Rachel closed the door behind her friend, a suggestive voice from the kitchen announced, " I have the tea under way, please, ma am. It s ill waitin when a meal is ready." " Very well, Jerusha," answered Rachel, " I will set the table right away. I did not think it was so late." She returned to the back parlor, which served as sitting-room and dining-room. "Humph!" said Jerusha, "the taller the clock in the corner, the less note taken of the time." A bright young girl now came into the dining-room. " Why, Aunt Rachel, I thought Friend Susan was staying for tea to-night? " " Xo, Hilda, but her visit was a little longer than usual/ said Rachel, while she replenished the fire in the open Franklin stove, " but we shall soon have things ready for Jerusha/ Thrifty Rachel Fuller always attended to her own dining-room. Deftly she and Hilda drew from the corner the round mahogany table, with the top turned upright on a central axle; they turned the top to its horizontal position: they laid the cloth, lighted the bronze lamp, and put the quaint china in place. "Here is Cousin Edward." said Hilda, smiling at an elderly, gray-haired gentleman who appeared at the threshold. He was a childless widower, and for ten years had made his home with his kins woman, Rachel Fuller. He leaned lightly upon a cane as he entered the room, and though not really conveying the impression of ill health, he nevertheless suggested frailty. "Xow. Hilda, T have caught thee and Cousin Rachel napping, I am sure," he said, pleasantly. " Xo, no. Cousin Edward, see, the last dish is in place, so thee 12 THE SILVER BUCKLE. cannot yet say thee has come home and found the tea-table not ready." This was an old jest between them. " Well, well; it is hard when a man wants something to growl about and cannot find it." " I do not think thee earnestly desires to growl/ Edward," said Rachel. During these remarks Rachel took from the corner closet a delft teapot, a small tea-chest, and a tiny pair of band-scales. She carefully weighed a frugal portion of tea, a luxury in those days. For not quite a year had passed since the Boston Tea Party, and last Christmas the good ship " Polly," bringing a cargo of tea to Phila delphia, had been sent back to England two hours after she had arrived at port. Jerusha brought in the brass kettle of boiling water, and the various dishes prepared for the meal, and then the small family drew up to the table. The impressive, eloquent Quaker silence fell upon the group, each heart was uplifted for a moment. When the meal began Edward Love directed his remarks to Hilda, seeing that Rachel was somewhat lost in thought. " Xow, Hilda, tell us all the events of the afternoon. Give us a faithful chronicle with everything doleful omitted; I will never be a party to sad or disagreeable table-talk." " Well, Cousin Edward, we have finished my party gown, and it ii= very comely. And I am to have a white mull tucker and under- sleeves." " T am glad for thee. Thee will look gay at the wedding." Edward Love was one of the " world s people," but be generally used the Friend s speech in the household, as a courtesy to Rachel. " T count on beginning my shell box to-night, if Richard brings that new kind of glue he promised. I sorted my shells to-day, but. oh! I broke one of the prettiest." " Hush, hush," said Edward, with mock earnestness, putting his hands over his ears, " I will not listen. Keep that till after tea." Hilda then merrily recounted some pranks of the household pets. Fido and Fairy, and Edward Love evinced the keenest interest in every detail, as if he bad never before heard such wonders. " Thee may summon Jerusha, Hilda," said Rachel, when the meal was finished. Hilda left the room, but returned in an instant, followed by THE SILVER BUCKLE. 13 Jerusha, Fido and Fairy. Fairy, a noble specimen of a tiger cat, walked demurely to the fire, and stretched herself for a nap. Fido, a handsome black King Charles, frisked frantically about, dividing his attention between Edward and Hilda. " Jerusha," said Hilda, with a pretense of anger, " you are just mean. You always contrive to have Fido s and Fairy s meals ready at the time we are eating, and it s all because you hate to let them come into the dining-room. Isn t it, Fido?" " Well," said Jerusha, emphatically, " I say that animals ain t got no business in a dining-room when gentlefolks is eatin , and I ll do what I can to live up to my principles. If Miss Eachel was to say to me like this, Jerusha, let the animals come in while we re at meals, it ud be different; but while she don t say that, I stick to my principles." They all laughed. Jerusha cleared the table vigorously, and Eachel proceeded to wash the tiny cups, saucers, and spoons in a small pewter basin kept exclusively for this purpose. " But, Jerusha," persisted Hilda, " some famous people have made companions of animals. Cousin Edward has often told me about them. Why, even queens and princesses have pet dogs and cats. 0, 1 don t wonder at queens and princesses, because havin no kind o reasonable business on hand they d go crazy just listenin to the lords and princes savin , Sweet lady, your cheeks is like the rose; fair princess., your hand is like the lily. But for people that have got somethin to think about, it s different. I wouldn t be cold- heartod to animals for anything, but they have their place." " Yes, yes, Fairy," said Hilda, picking up the cat and dancing about the room with Fido chasing after; " we know Jerusha is as fond of you as we are, only she won t say so, will she? And we know she likes Farmer John Peters, onlv she grumbles at him, doesn t she?" A little laler the " animals " settled down for a nap. Eachel took her knitting, while Edward and Hilda examined the various shells which were to be fastened upon a work-box that Edward had made for Hilda. Edward Love was a goldsmith, and a repairer of clocks and watches, but he was skilled in the use of all kinds of tools. 2 14 THE SILVER BUCKLE. " Good evening, neighbors," said Richard Thorpe, a manly-look ing youth, who, a few minutes later, entered the room, with the air of one at home. He had been Hilda s playmate in earlier years, and was now the familiar friend of the household. His parents were dead, and he had been reared by Thomas Greene, an apothecary, to whom he had been apprenticed. He still lived with the Greenes, though he had lately completed his apprenticeship. " Good evening, Richard Thorpe," said Rachel, " a chair is wait ing for thee." He sat down at the table where Hilda was at work. * Xow we ll see how this glue holds the shells," he said, drawing a bottle from his pocket. " I am so glad you have brought it," said Hilda. " The shells are all ready, and when I want to begin anything, oh! the want goes all through and through me." She began to arrange the shells, Richard superintending. " This has been a fine day, Richard," said Edward Love. " It has, indeed. Did you take an afternoon walk? " " Truly I did. I could not afford to miss that. Life has more in it than merely sitting in a shop." " I do believe," said Hilda, " that Cousin Edward keeps his clerk in order to get a chance for an afternoon walk. All the rest of the time I daresay the clerk stays up stairs with his family." " Now thee has found me out, Hilda. I let my clerk live over the shop, because I do not need him except when I want to take a walk. That s it, that s it. Well, during my walk, I found two or three more pretty leaves for thy collection." "Where?" asked Hilda. "Thee knows the high bank that I call my terrace?" "On Chestnut street, below Seventh?" " Yes. As I was sauntering there, I looked south toward Wal nut street and saw that my favorite old tree was quite bare. So I looked in the heap of leaves under it for a stray beauty. After that I turned my steps homeward, but when I came near Christ Church I heard the organist practicing, so I stepped in there and had a little music." THE SILVER BUCKLE. 15 "As usual," said Hilda, with pretended scorn. " Thee will get the name of being the laziest man in town." " Cousin Edward makes time at his shop," said Rachel, " so he; has some to dispose of." Why, Miss Rachel," said Richard, " thee is a wit." " Thank thee, Rachel," said Edward, " for thy compliment to; my business and my habits." "Well," said Hilda, "it is a bad example to Richard Thorpe. We shall find him taking a walk in business hours. Hold your finger <m that corner shell, Richard, while ] put this in place." The young heads were very close together, the hands touched each other. " I will make a bargain with you, Hilda. Whenever I take a walk in business hours I will ask you to go with me, and then you can lecture me." There seemed to be a slight change in Richard s tone. Was it not more than usually earnest? He looked straight into Hilda s eyes, and there must have been a subtle meaning in his glance, for Hilda looked down quickly, and said, with an embarrassed laugh, " What sport that will be!" The firelight fell full upon their faces, and Rachel, who chanced to be looking at them, saw the meaning glance and the embarrass ment produced by it. It was the first time she had seen any self- consciousness on Hilda s part when with Richard, and the discovery startled her. In that moment she realized that Hilda and Richard were children no longer. The afternoon conversation with Susan Walton had not been really absent from her mind all evening, but now it pressed upon her forcibly. She said to herself, " Would my information disturb the present state of things? Even if it would, ought I to withhold it?" "I don t intend to put on any more shells to-night," said Hilda; "I ve done enough. I ll make Fido play Dinah." She began a wild frolic, which consisted in doing Fido up in a red handkerchief, and making him bow and go through various antics of carrying and fetch ing. Meantime Edward Love leaned back on the cushioned settee, and addressed Richard. 1G THE SILVER BUCKLE. " Well, Mr. Twenty-one Years, are you making great plans for the future? Or are you satisfied to let well-enough alone? " " I can say yes to both questions," answered Ilichard. " I have plans; " again he looked at Hilda, k% but I shall make no change at present, on account of the troubled condition of the country. Men speak seriously of our future." " You are prudent, Kichard," said Edward. " Business cannot fail to be depressed while our public affairs are in such bad shape. I was hopeful that our Congress last month could show us what to do, but I fear that the end of our trouble is still far off. " God forbid," said Rachel. "Another reason why I am glad you are waiting, Richard/ con tinued Edward, " is that the delay gives you time to look about you before taking the full responsibility of a shop, a little time of free- dom that is very precious, an opportunity to choose ways and means carefully. Many a man cripples himself by jumping suddenly into his future. An opportunity for choice is a precious treasure, which should not be abused nor lightly parted with/ Again Rachel felt a strange pang, as if some hand pressed upon a bruise. Richard was preparing to go home, but she scarcely noticed him, and said " good night " mechanically. " Opportunity for choice .a precious treasure?" she repeated to herself. "Am I depriving Hilda of her treasure? Am I doing wrong? She thinks of no other road than the one to which her feet are accustomed. Shall I speak and turn her girlish fancy to a different path? Edward speaks soberly. Yea. yea, I will tell her." THE SILVER BUCKLE. 17 CHAPTER III. CONFIDENCES. Fond Memory brings the light Of other days around me." Moore. THE next morning was dull, and by afternoon a cold autumnal rain had set in, which made the house appear more snug and attrac tive in contrast with the great, uncomfortable world outside. On such a day there seems so little likelihood of human activity out-doors that one feels instinctively that if anything momentous is to happen it must arise within the household. Rachel Fuller s sitting-room was cheerful and comfortable, for it had not only a bright fire but could boast of a warm Kidderminster carpet. Rachel s afternoon task was the patient darning of a thin place in a linen tablecloth, while Hilda was making for herself the festive mull tucker. " Hilda," said her aunt, " the way seems open for me to speak to thee this afternoon about something on my mind. I want to try to make thee understand why I, a plain Friend, with strong con victions, have allowed thee privileges not in strict accordance with the discipline of our Meeting, and have permitted thee to go with Cousin Edward to worship at Christ Church instead of taking thee with me." Rachel paused, and Hilda did not foci certain whether she should speak or not. Presently she said, " I have gone to Meeting whenever thee has asked me, Aunt Rachel, and T will go oftener if thee wishes." :i Thee is more than willing to please me, child, but T do not wish thee to go to the Meeting House when thy heart inclines thee toward Christ Church." Thee has been very good to me, Aunt Rachel." " I have allowed thee to do what I thought thy mother would have thee do. Thy mother was different from me; her ways were IS THE SILVER BUCKLE. more like those of the world s people. Yet she was so lovable, so winsome, so useful, that whenever 1 was moved to remonstrate with her I was restrained by the thought that perhaps her ways were as good for her as mine for me." Again Rachel paused, and Hilda had too much delicacy to break the silence. Soon the narrative was resumed. " Our mother was a busy housekeeper; our father a hard-working country doctor; both were active in Friends Meeting. Their home was well kept, their children were well tended, they did their duty thoroughly according to their light. They were not given to demon strative affection, but Miriam was full of life and impulse. She made no effort to restrain her emotions; she laughed and sang when she was merry; she cried when she was sad; she twined flowers in her hair and made necklaces of dried berries. Though she was seven years younger, she was my constant companion. Hilda, thee has never known a sister s love, so thee cannot tell the sweetness thee has missed." Rachel ceased to speak, for her mind was busy exploring the holy land of youth; its rugged places were softened by the distance, its beauties were intensified by the sorrows and loneliness of later years. " Soon after our mother s death," she continued, " Miriam went into Surrey for a visit, and that was our first separation. There she met Herbert Sedgeley, a young minister of the world s people, and they were drawn toward each other. " Tie came afterward to our house, and a year later he and my beautiful Miriam were married in the village church. Father never favored the marriage, but he would not forbid it, though he was not at the wedding, as he would not countenance what he could not approve. I was there, but my heart was sad. I realized the extent of our separation. Her life was to be among new scenes; she was no longer connected with Meeting, and the old familiar intercourse would cease. Thy lather was a noble man, and Miriam was happy with him. T took comfort in that thought, but from the day of that mar riage my heart was lonely. Dear Miriam! Had she been any less good, less lovable, her ways might have provoked resistance: but somehow her life taught me that we might both be traveling the same road though clad in different kinds of raiment." THE SILVER BUCKLE. 19 " My sweet mother,* murmured Hilda. " Father died two years alter Miriam s marriage; then I made her a long visit, and then came our final parting, for I had decided to come to this country. Five years afterward thee came. Hilda, fatherless and motherless, to live with me. And it is for thy father s sake and thy mother s sake that I have not trained thee closely in Friends doctrine, and I can only pray that my laxity may not be to thy hurt." Hilda threw her arms around her aunt s neck. "Dear Aunt Kachd, 1 can never repay thee for thy goodness to me, but I will try to show thee that thy methods have not hurt me." Hat-hel stroked the fair young head which rested upon her shoul der, and no words were needed. After a time Hilda broke the silence. "Aunt Rachel, please tell me something about Cousin Edward s early life." " 1 know little to tell thee, child. I did not know him when he was young; his home was in London. He married early, but I believe his marriage was a disappointment to him. At any rate it saddened him. When he decided to come to this country his wife said that she would go to her own home, near London, till he had established himself here. After he had been a few weeks in Phila delphia he sent for her, but she made some excuse for delay, and a short time after that she died suddenly." l Did thee know he was in Philadelphia when thee came? " " 0, yes, and when T came I hunted him up. Afterward, when I wanted to make a home for thee, Hilda, I took this house and made a home for Cousin Fdward also." Hilda sat lost in thought; her quick imagination filled in and colored the outlines of the pictures that had been presented to her. The rain came down faster than ever, the wind fairly shook the house. After a time Rachel spoke again. " T lately gave thee, Hilda, the things that belonged to thy mother, but T still have one trinket which I will give thee to-day with a parchment explaining it. I could not see my way to give it to thee before. Yet I know thy father and mother intended thee to have this trinket, so I will not keep it from thee any longer. It belonged to tbv father s sister." 20 THE SILVER BUCKLE. Hilda was so astonished that she could not speak, while her aunt went into the parlor and took a small box from the great mahogany chest of drawers which filled one recess of the room. " The trinket, being silver, was much tarnished," she said, " but yesterday I asked Cousin Edward to polish it, so it is looking its best. I did not tell him the story, so thee may take thy choice of telling him or not." Hilda took the box. "I am going up stairs, Aunt Rachel, to look at it by myself," she said. " Very well, child, suit thyself," said Rachel, gently. CHAPTER IV. THE BUCKLE. " Brave, faithful, happy." HILDA SEDGELEY, alone up stairs, opened the box without a moment s delay. In one side of it was a roll of parchment, narrow, but very long, and wrapped in soft linen was a beautiful silver buckle. The buckle was a little more than two inches long, oval in shape, covered with delicate tracery of ivy and oak leaves clustered around an unfinished motto consisting of two words and a dash, also the date, 16GO. The parchment had at the upper left-hand corner the word copy, and read as follows: When the Merrie Foxes did holde their laste mete that is to say on the first Monday even of November, 1660 at the Lion, a Devyce was planned as a pleasaunt jeste. The sayd Devyce it has been carryed out so far as it can go at presente. And therefore 1 have this day bestowed upon my eldest Daughter a Silver Buckle. Which Buckle it was wroughte by the beste Silver-smith of London, at the coste of the Merrie Foxes. This is the Pleasure of the Merrie Foxes concerning the Buckle. My Daughter is to have it in possession until she does take unto herself a husbande. On this occasion she is to give the Buckle THE SILVER BUCKLE. 21 to the eldest unmarried Daughter of the next of kin, who is to holde and transmit it in the same way, at the tyme of her marriage. Should the holder of the Buckle remain a Spinster, at her Death it is to be transmitted in the same manner as if she had married. The holder of the Buckle shall not lende it, and she shall not permit a copy of it to be made. If she should dis regard these Commandes, she may look for annoyance all the reste of her Life. A Companion Buckle it was wroughte at the same tyme, and is to be transmitted in a Similar Mannere through the eldest un married Son of one of the Merrie Foxes. It is a fancie of the Merrie Foxes that the holders of the two Buckles may one day mete and perchance be United. But the Holder of this Buckle she shall not be debarred from a different Marriage, and shall in no Way consider herself bounde to defer Marriage in the Hope of gratifying the fancie of the Merrie Foxes. The Companion Buckle it is an exact Counterparte of this, save that it does bear the final word of the Legende that was chuzed, sayd final word being, " Felix." If the holders of the Buckles shall in future be betrothed, then the Buckles they shall be exchanged as a Token; the Maiden shall receive the Buckle bearing the inscription " Felix," and shall give to her Lover this one bearing the words, "Fortis, Fidelis," the entire legende being, " Fortis, Fidelis, Felix," meaning, " Brave, Faithful, Happy." (Signed) ROBERT CHADDOCK SEDGELEY, (A Merrie Fox.) Yule-tide, 1660. Hilda trembled with excitement as she laid down the parchment and looked once more at the buckle. Every heart worthy the name of human contains a susceptibility to romance. It may be easily and often aroused, or it may remain long unresponsive, waiting for the supreme touch of one irresistible hand; but when this susceptibility is aroused the heart quivers with innumerable electric impulses, which more or less affect the whole being. So Hilda was transformed by the silver buckle. Hitherto she had taken no thought for the morrow; she enjoyed the good things of life without question as to how they might have been improved; if a bright day came she accepted it with a spring of joy in her heart; if a dark day, she bore it as a thing to be expected. She enjoyed the companionship of Richard Thorpe much the same way as that of her aunt Rachel and her cousin Edward; it was part of her happy life, 22 THE SILVER BUCKLE. and she had no thought of a possible change. Now, however, a future seemed open to her. Some novelty was to come into her life, bringing with it a pleasant zest. Somewhere there was a youth, "brave, faithful," no doubt, looking for her, and she might make him " happy." With the undaunted confidence of youth she said to herself, " I shall find the companion buckle." She took from a drawer a precious miniature of her beautiful young mother, and then looked long and critically at the reflection of her own face in the mirror. Her face had a new interest, for she had in the last few moments passed a landmark of her life and turned into a strange road. With a sudden impulse she took from a small chest some fancy garments, given to her a few weeks before. Deftly she proceeded to array herself in a pink gown, a pink mantle, and a coquettish pink bonnet. "I ll surprise Aunt Rachel," she said to herself, "by ap pearing before her suddenly in my mother s clothes." Rachel Fuller down stairs sat doing nothing. She was wont to allow herself a little rest at twilight, when the duties of the day were over and those of the evening had not begun. She regarded the twilight as a little halting-place between the day and night, when it is good to stop and lay one s burdens down. She sat idle, her mind working in that half active, half listless way peculiar to some natures at such moments. Shadowy forms gathered round her; voices long silent whispered to her; pictures long ago destroyed again presented themselves, their outlines perfect as at first, their colors as bright. And from those bygone years even one of the old baffling questions returned: " Why are the lives that seem most necessary to each other so often separated? the hearts that are mutually responsive placed so far apart?" The loss of her sister had left a hunger which had never been appeased, a thirst which had never been slaked, though her life was one of usefulness and apparent content and cheerfulness. A gleam of light attracted her attention to the window. The sun, after a fierce struggle Avith the storm, had triumphed, and was proclaiming his victory in a flourish of sunset splendor. As Rachel looked at this promise of a bright morrow she had a vague, home- THE SILVER BUCKLE. 24 THE SILVER BUCKLE. sick feeling that on life s horizon there are some clouds which never yield to sunlight; though they may not always obtrude themselves amidst the splendor, they are there nevertheless. She murmured half aloud, " Two women shall be " She was interrupted by a vision that made her heart stand still, made her catch her breath, made her rise from her chair, made her take one step forward and then stand still again, with parted lips and astonished eyes. " Miriam," she faintly uttered to the fair young girl in pink garments. Hilda, more than satisfied with her device, and frightened be cause she saw for the first time her aunt Eachel frightened, ran for ward and threw her arms around her aunt s neck. Kachel folded her in a strong embrace, and in a quivering voice gave utterance to the unfinished thought of a moment before: " Two women shall be grind ing together, the one shall be taken, and the other left." CHAPTER V. HOPES AND FEARS. "Life? Tis the story of love and of troubles, Of troubles and love, that travel together The round world through." Joaquin Miller. JERUSHA LIGHTFOOT was scrubbing and scouring in the kitchen,, and ever and anon singing, to tunes of her own composing, scraps of old songs. Jerusha honestly thought she knew how to sing, and cared not whether others gave her credit for her ability or not. " Sure a body who can remember the words of a song has no trouble to put a tune to em, and it s company while you work," was her musical theory. She had a habit of talking about her work in a half audible tone between the lines of her song, so that a chance lis tener had the benefit not only of the quotations, but of the soliloquies also. THE SILVER BUCKLE. 25 " My gown was made of the finest silk, And flounced right down to the ground"; she sang, as she began a vigorous attack with a scrubbing-brush upon the window frame. " Tis a rare chance for cleanin / she muttered, " to have a day as mild as this in December." Then the song began again: " The girdle that I wore round my waist," There was a brief silence, save for the sound of the brush, then the soliloquy was resumed. " Some slatterns won t take the hint, of course; they don t seem to know that when a real fine day comes it s the Lord s way o sayin : Clean up, put things in order, make your house shine. : She finished the first stanza of her song: " Was sell t for a hundred pounds." Again she scrubbed complacently. " This last soap is the best I ever made, glad I made a lot of it," she said. Then the song was resumed : " My stockings were made from the softest woo , And gartered aboon the knee." Suddenly she paused in her work, and the song changed to soliloquy. "Mercy on my heart! I laid out to polish them big brass candlesticks on the dining-room mantel when I was scouring the pans and porringers, and I perfectly forgot em." Her vexation soon subsided, and the scrubbing and the song went on. "My shoes were made of the Spanish black, And they buckled right merrily." Again her mind turned to the candlesticks. " Well, I ll do em O this afternoon, that s sure." "Xow, Jerusha Lightfoot," said a merry voice from the hall doorway, "here I ve been standing for five minutes, and you have made believe not to see me, but you meant that song for me, I know." " Hilda Sedgeley, I didn t have an idea you was there, but if you choose to take it to yourself you re welcome." 26 THE SILVER BUCKLE. Jerusha always spoke in a clear, strong, matter-of-fact tone not unpleasant, not cross, yet with no suggestion of mirth or humor. a Well, Jerusha, I m dressed for the wedding, and before I put on my cloak I want you to see me. How do I look? " Hilda was clad in the new gown of pale brown silk over a skirt of brown quilted satin; the white mull tucker was gathered coyly at her neck, and white mull undersleeves lent daintiness to her wrists. And in a breastknot of blue ribbon was the silver buckle. Jerusha glanced quickly at her quickly but comprehensively, not superficially. There is as much difference in glances as in caresses. Jerusha s glance was, as her work, thorough. " Well, I don t think you could look any better," she said, de cidedly. To some persons this might have seemed rather an ambig uous compliment; but Hilda was satisfied, for she understood it. Jerusha, scrubbing energetically as before, began a new song. " Quoth John to Joan, wilt thou have me? I prithee now, wilt? And I se marry with thee," " Why is it, Jerusha," interrupted Hilda, " that you always sing love songs? Are all songs about love? " Jurusha actually stopped scrubbing, so oppressed was her brain by this unexpected, perplexing question. " I can t say whether or no they re all about love," she answered, " but all T ever heard was about love. Mayhap it s only when a body s in love that he s got idleness enough to make songs." "And then busy people like you sing them," said Hilda. " Go on, Jerusha, finish it." " My cow, my calf, my house, my rents, And all my lands and tenements: say, my Joan, say, my Joan, will not that do? I cannot come every day to woo." Here the back door opened, and a big, burly, ruddy-faced man looked in and nodded. " 0, good day, Farmer John," said Hilda, " you are just in time to see my new gown. I am going to a wedding. Cassie Armstrong and Joe Lake are to be married this morning, and after that there ll be a new house to buy marketing." THE SILVER BUCKLE. " How do I look? " 28 TEE SILVER BUCKLE. " I know it. I wish them good luck/ he said, but in a tone so ferocious that the wish sounded like a malediction. He always spoke fiercely, giving the impression that he was ready to knock someone down. His most ordinary remarks were uttered in a roar, yet no one had ever seen him in a passion. Probably the passion in his nature vented itself regularly in his daily conversation, instead of reserving its strength to burst out with overwhelming force at some extreme provocation. He lived on his own farm, about six miles dis tant, and his sole companion at home was a hired man, who assisted him not only with the farm, but with the housework also. " I went to parties, too," he continued, " in my youth, but now I ve got better sense, and I stay at home where I can have comfort and enjoy myself." "Poor enjoyment livin in the country," said Jerusha. "Of course, some folks must live in the country, else there d be no farms; but it don t seem right to pretend to like livin in the country. It would be more right to say, I m resigned to livin in the country because I can t help myself. r " 0, Jerusha," said Hilda, "if you had gone to Farmer John s that day last October when we had the nutting party, you would have seen beautiful country. " Folks won t never see what they don t want to see," roared John, looking meaningly at Jerusha. " I ll give a May Day next spring, and I bid you all to it, the whole house, and I ll take it ill if you don t come." " The country s well enough to visit," said Jerusha. " You d find it better enough to live in," retorted John, " if you d try it. A workin , singin body like you. who don t fret to run and clatter from door to door, would find great room in the country." Hilda looked with amusement from one of these odd characters to the other, and wondered whether any other lover had ever spoken with such apparent ferocity as John, to such a discouraging listener as Jerusha. John was holding in his hand three fine apples, which lie now displayed freely, for Rachel Fuller, cloaked and bonneted, appeared at the hall door. John waved the apples toward her and yelled, THE SILVER BUCKLE. 29 " You may take em or not, just as you like, but ye ll not get finer ones this winter. I m sold out at market and am on my way home, but ye might be wantin to order me to bring a bar l of em before the roads get bad; price same as before. I ll bring em the next day I come. You can do as ye ve a mind, of course." " Well, John, thee may bring a barrel of these apples, but not the next day thee comes in, that will be Fourth-day I shall not be ready for them then but suppose we say next Seventh-day?" " With these Fourth-days and Seventh-days I m turned about," said John, " and the apples may not get here at the right time, but no blame to me." " Suppose thee counts on thy fingers, John Peters," said Rachel; " thee knows what the First day of the week is, surely." " In the country it must be hard to tell one day from another/* interposed Jerusha, with aggravating calmness. Rachel saved John the necessity of a reply by saying to Hilda, "Had thee not better get thy cloak? And don t forget thy pattens, for the ground is damp. Jerusha, thee will have a good afternoon to thyself." " She can have these apples for company," said John, laying them upon the table, " they grew in the country." With another tremendous nod he departed. Rachel and Hilda laughed as they left the room, while Jerusha continued her labors and resumed her song. " I have a cheese upon the shelf, And I cannot eat it all myself; I ve three good marks that lie in a rag, In the nook of the chimney, instead of a bag." A few minutes later Hilda was seated with her aunt Rachel on one of the benches in the large Meeting House at Second and High streets. Her most intimate girl friend, Cassie Armstrong, was to be married at the close of the regular meeting to Josiah Lake. Both families were well know r n to the community. The Committee of Friends had sanctioned the engagement, and Cassie s mother had said, " If I could have chosen for Cassie I would not have chosen any 3 30 THE SILVER BUCKLE. youth but Josiah Lake." So, under the reasonable prospect of Cas- sie s future happiness, and the agreeable certainty of an afternoon s feast of good things at the hospitable home of Cassie s mother, an air of general satisfaction rested upon the assembly in the Meeting House. A few " world s people " were present, others intended to call during the afternoon to pay their respects to the young couple. When Hilda was among the Friends she never felt that she was one of the " world s people," and when she was with her Cousin Edward at Christ Church she never felt that she was a Friend. She looked across the center aisle of the Meeting House, and saw Richard Thorpe. He was looking at her and they smiled at each other. Seated together on the front benches were the family groups of Lakes and Armstrongs Jo and Cassie side by side. It was some time before any one was moved by the Spirit. At last Margaret Gray, a small, delicate-looking old lady, untying her bonnet and laying it on the bench beside her, rose, and spoke with touching simplicity and eloquence about " the peace of God which passeth understanding." When she had finished, Caleb Lukens, a tall, spare, middle-aged man, with a high, quavering voice, prayed long and earnestly. A brief silence fell upon the meeting. At last Josiah Lake and Cassie Armstrong rose. Cassie had laid aside her long cloak after entering the Meeting House, and now stood revealed in a gray gown with a mull kerchief round her neck, and a little gray bonnet. Josiah took her right hand in bis and said, distinctly and yet nervously: "In the presence of the Lord and this Assembly I take thee, Catharine Armstrong, to be my wife, promising, with Divine assistance, to be unto thee a faithful and loving husband until death shall separate us." Then the bride, without the slightest embarrassment, yet with perfect modesty, said: "In the presence of the Lord and this Assem bly, I take thee, Josiah Lake, to be my husband, promising, with Divine assistance, to be unto thee a faithful and loving wife until death shall separate us." They sat down, and the bride s brother, James Armstrong, placed in front of them a small table containing pen and ink and the THE SILVER BUCKLE. 31 marriage certificate. With a large quill, new for the occasion, Josiah Penn Lake and Catharine Armstrong Lake signed their names. Then the certificate was handed to an aunt of the bride, and she rose and read it aloud. Then it was placed again on the table, and all the Lakes and Armstrongs signed their names and left the Meeting House, while other Friends gathered round the table to affix their signatures to the important document. The guests then repaired to the house of Anna Armstrong, the bride s mother, where the bride and groom, with the immediate mem bers of the two families, were stationed in the second story front room, transformed for the occasion into a sitting-room, to receive them. After removing their bonnets, cloaks, etc., the guests went in small groups into the " presence chamber," paid their respects, then descended to the parlor to make room for others who wished to offer greetings to the bridal party. At last, compliments and congratulations being over, the bride and groom led the way to the dining-room. At this moment Rachel and Hilda were met in the hall by James Armstrong. " Friend Rachel. said he, " permit me to take thee to the dining-room; Friend Walton is saving a place for thee beside her. Hilda Sedgeley, will thee wait here a moment till I come back, and then go with me to the parlor? " " Yes, James, if thee does not tarry too long," answered Hilda. James Armstrong escorted Rachel Fuller to the dining-room, then hurried back to Hilda. " Hilda," he said, " sometimes it is unfortunate to be young. We are doomed to wait till the second table, so let us join our com panions in misery, and play some games." They were soon among a crowd of young people, nearly all of whom were well acquainted, enjoying such games as " forfeits " and " hide the handkerchief." Among the young men was Richard Thorpe, wildly jealous of James Armstrong and of two or three other youths who were ex tremely gallant to Hilda. Hilda had not yet told Richard the story of the buckle, but intended to do so in the course of the day, though she did not intend to tell it to anyone else outside her Aunt Rachel s 32 THE SILVER BUCKLE. household. Indeed, Hilda never thought of Richard as being out side the household. When the hearty appetites of the elders had done justice to the substantial dinner, the young folks were summoned to the table. Josiah Lake took his station for the afternoon in a little room beside the parlor, to converse with his friends whenever they chose to rally round him, while Cassie returned to the room on the second floor to give special audience to those who wished to converse with her. Richard Thorpe had determined to have Hilda for his com panion at dinner, and gave a sigh of relief as they sat down side by side. Hilda laughed and said: "Why, Richard, are you tired? At the next wedding you will have to eat with the old folks if you can t wait without losing your strength." " Xo, Hilda, I am strong enough, but I don t feel so much at liome among the Friends as you do," he answered, looking at her ^significantly. Hilda, ignoring the glance, said: "Cassie and Joe seem very happy, and she is the prettiest picture to-day, isn t she? Is Joe as .nice as he seems? " " I don t know how nice he seems to you, Hilda, but I think he is a fine fellow. But as to the prettiest picture well, I think I have as pretty a one beside me now." " Thank you, Richard; that gives me even a better appetite than I had before. Do you see this buckle in my ribbon? Take a good look at it, for if ever you see one like it I want you to recognize it and fly to tell me." And in the midst of the mirth around them, and with interrup tions occasioned by the necessity of joining from time to time in the general conversation, Hilda, in a few words, told Richard the story of the buckle. Richard listened with a sinking heart. During the games ho had realized in an uncomfortable way that Hilda had other admirers beside Richard Thorpe; but her story 7 of the buckle showed that not only had she other admirers, but that she was now possessed of an entirely new fancy which would direct her thoughts to a strange channel. To be sure this fancy would make her disregard the THE SILVER BUCKLE. 33 homage of the youths who had roused his jealousy, but how about his own homage? lie doubted not that in time her novel fancy would exhaust itself, but meantime he dared not think what might happen. " Richard, I feel sure that I am going to find that other buckle," said Hilda. " Do you think it is at this wedding? " said he, making an effort to smile. " Xo, but I shall know somehow when it comes around. I can t say just exactly how, but I shall know." The afternoon was passed in social conversation and games. People came and went, dutifully sitting awhile upstairs with the bride, downstairs with the groom. The young couple informed every one that they would keep open house in their own home for the next two weeks, and that they should be offended if they did not see all their friends in that time. At four o clock chocolate and little seed cakes were handed around, and at six supper was served. Shortly after eight it was rumored that the bride and groom had slipped away to their own little home near by, and then the guests prepared to depart. Though Edward Love had called during the afternoon, he had not remained for supper; so Richard Thorpe, by a previous arrange ment with Rachel, escorted her and Hilda home. Hilda was gay dur ing their walk, but Richard said scarcely a word. Aunt Rachel s door was opened by Jerusha, who was eating the last of John s apples, and Richard turned away, saying to himself, " How cold it is! winter has really come." 34 THE SILVER BUCKLE. CHAPTER VI. WINTER-TIME. " For little things on little wings Bear little souls to Heaven." THE weeks that followed made no important change in Hilda s manner of life. An unfriendly winter had set in, and in spite of the stone sidewalks the streets were not inviting, so the social life of the city was less active than usual. The people were depressed, not only hy the weather, but by the grave questions of the times. Men conversant with public affairs felt uneasy at the increasing obduracy of spirit shown by England. Trade was affected unfavorably, prices rose. There were many pub lic and private discussions as to what men should do to bring the King to terms. Some thought that when Congress assembled again in September all doubtful questions would be settled. Others prophesied war, and even wished it would come, for then the King would see that the colonists were in earnest, and he would yield at once to their demands; a little show of fight was all that would be needed. The Friends were persistent in their efforts to keep down public excitement. They urged the people to moderate their anger, to put aside all thoughts of retaliation and resistance, to " turn the other cheek," to make further petitions to the King, mildly, clearly, yet earnestly, and to wait with dignified patience till their requests were heard, in the meantime accommodating themselves to circumstances. Rachel Fuller s household shared the excitement of the time, Rachel herself more than once speaking publicly in the Meeting. Edward Love thought war a terrible evil, but sometimes a necessary one. and when peaceful measures failed, he would advocate hostile measures. The time may come." he said, " when men will be wise enough to respect each other s rights without being forced to do so; then war will lie condemned as barbarous. But that time has not yet .come. THE SILVER BUCKLE. 35 Rachel Fuller argued that war is opposed to Christianity; that failure to get a thing is no sign that it is right to take it forcibly; that forbearance and humility and endurance are cardinal virtues, sure to triumph in the end. Hilda Sedgeley listened to arguments on both sides of the ques tion, but knew not what to think for herself. The word "war" frightened her a little, yet it seemed something undefined and distant. She thought vaguely that if war should come, some men from some other places in the colonies she hardly knew where would go out in a vessel and bring the King s troops to terms. For as yet there were no preparations for war; there was nothing to suggest to a young and inexperienced mind that if war came it would come in its usual form, that of a horrible, irresistible demon, stalking through every city and entering every door. Meanwhile the household duties were performed with the accus tomed precision and regularity knitting, quilting, spinning, weav ing, sewing, in addition to the vast amount of work connected with the preparation of food in those days, when nothing could be bought ready to the housekeeper s hand. Hilda assisted in these household duties, and in the evenings she had time for her shell work or bead work, or else she wrote in her " piece book " scraps of useful information and quotations dictated by her Cousin Fdward. This literary work had been of immense value to Hilda, and a source of great delight. Like other girls of that time, she had gone to a little school in the neighborhood till she had reached her fif teenth year. In arithmetic she had learned the four fundamental rules, and something about fractions and the "rule of three." She had studied geography from book and globe, had been well drilled in spelling, had learned some common truths about nature, had gone through a history of England, and had been taught a few miscel laneous historical facts, besides becoming skilled in beautiful needle work. Twice a year, by way of an exhibition piece, she had copied on a large sheet of paper some proverbs from Poor Richard s Almanac or some verses from the Bible, ornamenting the page with fancy capital letters of German text style. She took such pleasure in this writing that it suggested to her 36 THE SILVER BUCKLE. cousin Edward the course of work that had been carried on in win ter evenings since she had left school. He owned a small stock of good books, and from them he selected passages that would interest and instruct Hilda. Then, in the evenings, he read them to her, dis cussed them with her, gave them to her word by word while she wrote them accurately in a blank book. This was an expensive ar ticle then, but Edward gave Plilda a blank book each year. And so she had copied passages from Milton, Dryden, Pope, Thompson, Addison, Goldsmith, Gray, and many lines of Shakespeare. Aunt Eachel had at first looked upon the " play book " of Shakespeare with distrust, but Edward had assured her that he would not put it into Hilda s hands, but merely teach her some of its noblest sentiments. Any verses to which Hilda took a special fancy she committed to memory after copying them, so that Edward s plan of education proved exceedingly useful. She was also perfectly familiar with Bible narratives and precepts, having for ten years heard the Sacred Book read daily by her Aunt Eachel, whose reading was impressive, unforgetable, beautiful. So Hilda s mind did not lack nourishment. Edward loved the young girl devotedly. He wanted her to have the full measure of joy that his life had missed. He was always her chivalrous knight, ready with appreciative compliment, with wise counsel and encouragement. He developed the artistic side of her nature, neglected by her aunt Eachel. For her he gathered the first blossoms of spring, the roses of June, the leaves of autumn, the holly of Christmas. He never missed a service at Christ Church, and gen erally had Hilda for his companion. He taught her to appreciate and enjoy the beauty and majesty of the English ritual; he told her of the noble cathedrals and picturesque village churches in England, and Hilda listened with the image of her father and mother in her heart. Edward Love had also a strong liking for young Eichard Thorpe, and had not failed to let him have a share in the instructions offered so freely to Hilda, though, of course, Eichard s chief duty had been to serve his apprenticeship to Thomas Greene, the apothecary. Eichard had always accompanied the Greenes to Christ Church, and walked home afterward with Edward Love and Hilda Sedgeley. This winter Hilda saw Eichard as usual on Sundays, but did not THE SILVER BUCKLE. 37 see so much of him in the evenings through the week, for he said he was making some special studies in chemistry. His statement about his extra work was accepted by Hilda with no feeling of dissatisfaction. She was proud of his energy and industry; she encouraged his efforts, and was conscious of no loneliness, for she had the gentle companionship of her aunt Rachel, the sym pathetic friendship of her cousin Edward, and, hidden away in a corner of her heart, she had her little romance of the silver buckle. CHAPTEE VII. AN APRIL EVENING. "God is the Perfect Poet, Who in creation acts his own conceptions." Robert Browning. IN due time the gloomy winter was compelled to give place to the charming spring; the old earth smiled and donned her new robes, as if there were no such things as freezing wind and bitter storm; heavy hearts became light, light hearts became buoyant. One pleasant evening late in April, Hilda Sedgeley was standing at the front door, and enjoying the balmy air of twilight, when Richard Thorpe came down the street with superb bunches of apple blossoms in his hand. " Good evening, Richard," Hilda called out, merrily, " you must have been robbing an orchard. You had better come in and hide awhile from the pursuers, who must be on your track." " This is the very refuge I am seeking," said he, coming gaily up the steps, " and this plunder is for you, Hilda. Beauty to the beautiful," said he, gallantly, presenting the blossoms. " Thanks to the noble," said she with a courtesy. " Come into 38 THE SILVER BUCKLE. the parlor and I ll put them into a vase. Aunt Rachel has gone around to Susan Walton s for a little chat, and Cousin Edward had to go out to attend to some business, so you find me alone. I ll en tertain you in great state to-night, Richard, in the parlor, and you must make believe that you don t know that Aunt Rachel s been clean ing house, and that the sitting-room was cleaned to-day and is not in order yet." " Well, this room is in order, at any rate," said he, as they en tered the parlor; " it fairly shines with cleanliness. I have so seldom been in this room that I feel strange in it." " Suppose you try to learn to feel at home in it, Richard, while I go and fill this vase with water for the blossoms." " No, no, Hilda; I will not stay here alone; the responsibility of staying by myself in Friend Rachel s best room just after it has had its spring cleaning is too great for me," and he followed her through the hall. They went out the side door, where Jerusha was sitting with Fairy. " Lack-a-day," said Jerusha, " but young folks is bold, takin* a parlor vase to put nothin but blossoms in. Wilful waste makes woeful want. " 0. we are not wasting anything, Jerusha, and so we are sure of being as rich as princes some day," answered Richard. " Hi, Fairy! where is Fido?" " Fido has gone with Cousin Edward," answered Hilda, " but let us hurry and get the water for the blossoms." "Mind you wipe the drips off the vase," called Jerusha, as she heard Richard pumping vigorously. " It s all dry outside, Jerusha," said Richard reassuringly, as he and Hilda returned to the parlor. " Xow, slave," said Hilda, playfully, " deposit the vase upon that table. I myself will arrange the flowers." " Yea, gracious lady," answered Richard, following her mockery; " they should not be touched except by thine own fair hands." " They bring me messages from fairy land, slave, which thou dost not hear," said Hilda, busying herself with the blossoms, " and the fountain where thou didst draw this limpid water is an enchanted fountain, and will keep the blossoms fresh until I weary of them." THE SILVER BUCKLE. 39 " Fair lady, thy slave has yet another mission to perform/ said Richard, going to a table where he had deposited a small parcel, loosely wrapped in white paper. He opened the parcel and disclosed a tiny bouquet of violets, anemones and delicate ferns. " Oh, lovely, lovely," said Hilda, in her natural manner, before Richard had a chance to speak. These flowers, fair lady," continued he, not heeding her inter ruption, " have magic charms. They grew in an enchanted valley in the realm of Mystery. They were sent by my royal master, King Patient Waiting, as a tribute to thy worth and beauty. He requests that thou wilt wear them as a breastknot. When they have told thee their secret, they will fade, in spite of all thou may st do to prevent them." Hilda was embarrassed during this long speech, and her cheeks flushed as she took the bouquet from Richard s hand. " Convey my thanks to the monarch. These flowers are rich in color and grateful in fragrance," and she fastened them to her gown, " but I am too much occupied at present to listen to their secret." " They will keep till they have fulfilled their mission," said Richard. "Don t let us play this any longer, Richard; let us talk sense. I want to show you my piece-book, finished for the season. Just "before tea I wrote the line that came to me as the proper finis for this volume." They sat down side by side, Richard holding the book. Many of the quotations were familiar to him, Hilda having discussed them with him during the winter evenings, but he made comments on the new ones: he read some aloud and read them well; he chose cer tain ones as his favorites, and asked Hilda which she preferred. As he was nearing the end, Hilda suddenly caught hold of the book with both hands, saying, " Now, don t look ahead, Richard, don t turn another page. Try to guess what I wrote as a finis." " Tt would require the wisdom of Solomon to guess what you have written, Hilda?" "Am I such an uncertain creature, Richard, that you cannot tell what I am likely to do? " " No, indeed, Hilda, where reasonable, solid, everyday matters 40 THE SILVER BUCKLE. are concerned you are as steady as clockwork; but in a matter of fancy in a matter of fancy, 1 would not like to wager what course you would take." Richard spoke with the air of a man thinking of something below the surface of his words. Hilda felt embarrassed, she scarcely knew why, and immediately she remembered that on two or three previous occasions she had felt embarrassed at Richard s manner. She quickly resumed her teazing tone, and said, snatching the book from him, " Wager noth ing; I ask for no wager; I ask for a guess. Now I ll give you two minutes to speak to speak right to the point. If you do not make a noble effort you will lose your privilege of knowing what I wrote." "First effort: Time and the hour rub through the roughest day, " said Richard, quickly. " Now, Richard Thorpe, you know I love to write, and it s not a case of rubbing through. I always hate to close my winter s work." " Then perhaps you wrote, The thing which I greatly feared is come upon me. >: " Greatly feared! why, Richard, you must be crazy." " 0, 1 know now, Hilda, A little learning is a dangerous thing. " " Forsooth, Mr. Pertness, you have lost your chance, the time is up. Yom little learning will be dangerous to you," and Hilda clasped the book tightly in her arms. " I have thirty seconds grace, Hilda, and I can tell you exactly. You wrote, The desire accomplished is sweet to the soul. " " Well, that is more sensible, Richard, and in return for the great effort you have made, I will show you what I wrote." She opened the book and held it toward him with a deprecating air, fearing that he might laugh, and knowing that if he did the laugh would jar upon her. But Richard did not laugh, for the words to which his attention was directed showed him that Hilda had writ ten under the promptings of one of her finer fancies, which he un derstood and respected. First, there was the matter-of-fact date, April 24th, 1775, and then in large German text, ornamented with delicate vines, were the words, " The time for the singing of birds is come." " That is fine, Hilda," said Richard in a tone of admiration, "you could not have made a better ending." THE SILVER BUCKLE. 41 " The day and the hour suggested the words to me; I could not have said anything else. Just think of it! The long, cold, stormy winter, with all its shivers and bad streets and high prices and hard times, has passed away; and now we have soft, sweet air, open win dows, walks in the fields, sweet smells of country, grass and blossoms and wild flowers; and people will be brighter, and times will be bet ter oh! how thankful I am for spring!" She had risen during this speech, and walked to the window, Richard following her. Together they stepped out on the little balcony in front of the parlor, and walked up and down. After a moment s silence, Richard said, " I share your feelings, Hilda. I suppose spring and youth belong together, whispering promises for the future, arousing hopes. This very morning I decided two im portant matters. I told Mr. Greene that after three months I would go into business for myself." "And what did he say?" asked Hilda. " He said he would do what he could to assist me, and he wished me good luck. The other decision," said he, speaking slowly, " was to tell you of my love for you. Hilda," he burst forth impetuously, " you surely know I love you. I have kept silence only because I had a feeling that you were not ready to hear me speak. I understand your feelings in regard to the silver buckle, and I don t ask for an answer to-night, Hilda; but do not let the jest of a hundred years ago interfere with the happiness of to-day. Won t you fix a limit to your time of waiting? Say you will wait no more than six months; that you will tell me then whether you will be my wife." It was not miite dark, and as they turned at the end of the balcony they saw a young man coming quickly up the street. " Here s Joe Lake," said Hilda, and at the same instant he stopped at the balcony. "Good evening, Joe, what is your hurry?" Hilda s tone showed no annoyance at the interruption. " Hilda, I have news," said Joe. " Richard, an express, has brought news of a battle at Lexington, near Boston; the King s troops fired upon the militia and several were killed; and later, the militia attacked the King s troops, and about two hundred were killed." " Will there be any more fighting? " asked Hilda, fearfully. 42 THE SILVER BUCKLE. " Did you hear how the trouble began, Joe? " asked Richard. " I couldn t learn much to-night, Richard, but the news is spreading, and there is to be a meeting at the State House to-morrow to see what should be done, and we shall hear the whole story then." Here come Cousin Edward and Aunt Rachel," said Hilda; "1 wonder if they know." Yes, they knew. Edward Love had heard the rumor before going to Susan Walton s to bring Rachel Fuller home. " Sad news, Joe; sad news, Richard," said Edward. " They that take the sword shall perish by the sword, " said Rachel. " It may be necessary for some of us to perish, Rachel, that others may live," said Edward Love. " Well, let us seek rest while we have the chance," said Rachel. "Joe and Richard, it is too late to ask you to come in, so we will bid you good night." The young men went down the street together. When Hilda lighted the lamp she looked down at the anemones and violets on her breast, and found them faded and drooping. They had told their secret. THE SILVER BUCKLE. 43 CHAPTER VIII. THE SUMMER OF 1775. " All the interim is as a phantasma or a hideous dream." Shakespeare. THE events following that memorable evening seemed afterward to Hilda as those of a troubled dream. Edward Love gave her a full account of the mass meeting at the State House the next day, where the citizens resolved to " associate together to defend with arms their property, liberty and lives." After that came the building of forts, the manufacture of ammunition, the enrollment of militia, the daily drill. Richard Thorpe, giving up all hopes of opening his own shop, remained with Mr. Greene, and devoted his spare time to prepara tions for war. Edward Love gave all possible assistance to the meas ures for offense and defense; but by reason of his infirmity could not join the train-bands. Rachel Fuller and other Friends worked zeal ously to calm the excitement and avert violent resistance. But some of the Friends renounced the principles of peace, and formed a soldier company of their own. Among these was Josiah Lake. Cassie and Hilda were much together during this time, and anxiously discussed the present and speculated about the future. As formerly, Hilda went at times to the week-day meeting with her aunt Rachel, and was greatly divided in her sentiments about violent resistance to wrongs. One morning, a woman named Mary Harris, a stranger, addressed the Meeting, and so stirring were her words, so great was her excitement, speaking from the text: " See now to your standing, for this is the Lord about to search and ex amine his camp," that Hilda was as one overwhelmed by momentous tidings. She could not explain her feelings, but some new forces were started in her nature; and shrinking from a renewal of the asso ciations of that hour, she never went again to Friends Meeting. After that came the sessions of the second Continental Con- 44 THE SILVER BUCKLE. gress, and the rumors that some of its members were suggesting and advising entire separation from England. On the twenty-first of June, Hilda witnessed the proud proces sion that escorted George Washington, the newly appointed General- in-Chief, through the streets when he left to take command of the American army at Boston. Then, for the first time, Hilda felt con vinced that there would be a war. The preparations made in the city during the last two months had seemed to be merely prudent measures, for which there would never be any real necessity. She had shared in the sympathy aroused time after time by the troubles of Boston, yet still she thought means of peace would be devised. But the twenty-first of June threw a new light upon Hilda s view of public affairs. For upon that day she saw a thoughtful, majestic man, for ty-three years of age, renowned for his skill and bravery in an earlier war, high in social position, distinguished in the various public assem blies of which he had been a member, ride forth to take command of an army. With him were General Charles Lee, an English officer of great repute, and General Philip Schiller, also a brave soldier, and, like Washington, a member of the Congress that had vested him with this authority. They were escorted through the streets of Phil adelphia by the militia, by the prominent citizens, and also by dele gates from the Congress then in session. The news of the next day showed not only that war would be, but that it had already begun in deadly earnest, for it was news of the battle fought at Bunker Hill four days earlier. It was news that appalled all hearts, only to animate them with increased strength and courage. Hilda s next memorable experience was about a month later when Richard came to bid them good-bye, for his company was arranging to start the next day to join the main body of troops. He managed to say to her privately, " I ll come for my answer, Hilda, when the war is over." She, struggling to hide her sorrow, might have spoken under the impulse of the moment, but had rro chance to do so. " Friend Eachel," he said, in his old laughing way, " thee knows Mr. Franklin says, l Make yourselves sheep and the wolves will eat you. Now, we don t intend to let the wolves have any chance; they ll find no sheep in their path." THE SILVER BUCKLE. 45 With promises that he would write when he could, and a silent pressure of each friendly hand, he was gone. Earlier in the day, rough, honest old John Peters, going in the same company with Richard, had bade them good-bye, and Jerusha had said. " taint no loss." Richard s departure left Hilda with a dull aching sense of loss and a dread of the perils of war. She had not known life without Richard s companionship, and could not analyze her feelings in regard to him, but she would gladly have had him back again. There were moments when she was conscious of a feeling of relief that she did not need to answer the question at once. She said to herself, " The war may last a whole year, and by that time I shall know myself." In this mood she wrote one day, and put among her secret treasures, the following story: A SILLY FABLE. Once upon a time there lived great flocks of birds in a certain valley, which came to be called the Valley of Birds. Perhaps the valley was not the most beautiful in the world, or the most desirable, but it afforded comfortable shelter and abundant food; the air was sweet, the winds were gentle. Across the west end of the valley was a natural wall of tall trees, low shrubs and underbrush. In the Yalley of Birds it was known that other birds lived beyond that wall, and, indeed, sometimes those in the Valley of Birds flew directly over the trees, or between the branches into the Unknown Valley; but they never came back. The birds understood this flight and this continued absence. Had not their king decreed that none dwelling in the Valley of Birds should fly beyond the wall of trees, into the Unknown Valley, until the magic feathers had appeared in their wings? Had not he also decreed that none should stay long in the Valley of Birds after the appearance of the magic feathers? And what were the magic feathers? Two tiny feathers, more brilliant than the rest of the plumage, differing from it in color, yet harmonizing with it, appearing in a certain particular part of the wing these were the magic feathers. Some birds could feel these 4 46 THE SILVER BUCKLE. feathers growing, others were hardly conscious of the change, and to some they never came. When a bird found these magic feathers in his wings, he sought a mate whose magic feathers had recently developed, and away they both flew into the Unknown Valley. One day a bird named Talk-rest said to a bird that nested in the same tree, " Brownthroat, I feel the magic feathers." " Pshaw, pshaw, Tallcrest," laughed she. Another day he said, " Brownthroat, I can see the new feathers in my wings. Look at them, look at them!" But Brownthroat answered, " I am busy picking this nice fat snail out of his shell. Don t ask me to look at your new feathers." "0, Brownthroat, Brownthroat!" exclaimed Tallcrest, in raptur ous surprise, " I see new feathers in your wings! Do you not feel them?" Brownthroat dropped the nice fat snail and looked at her wings, " Pshaw, pshaw, Tallcrest, you are fooling me." "Nay, nay, Brownthroat; stretch your neck as I do, and spread your wings and look." Still Brownthroat could not see them. Perhaps her sight was not good, perhaps she could not stretch her neck, or perhaps the feathers were not there, and Tallcrest had only imagined them. Other birds were appealed to for their decision. Some said they could see the feathers distinctly, others were doubtful. Tt was de cided by all that a brief time would show whether the magic feathers were really growing in Brownthroat s wings, and, by common consent of the birds of the Valley, Tallcrest was given the privilege of taking refuge in one of the trees on the western wall, to wait, without looking for another mate with magic feathers, until Brownthroat s case could be decided. THE SILVER BUCKLE. CHAPTER IX. FRIENDS AND FOES. " O, blindness to the future! kindly given, That each may fill the circle mark d by Heaven." Pope. DURING the next two years came the varying events of war and the excitement attendant upon the Declaration of Independence. The latter part of the summer of 1777 was fraught with special mean ing to the inhabitants of the peaceful city of Penn, for General Howe seemed to be making plans to capture it. He had left Xew York with the main body of his troops early in July, and, having joined the naval forces, was now coming by way of the Chesapeake toward Philadelphia. There were many royalists in Philadelphia, and they regarded this approach of the British with much satisfaction. Most of the Friends were indifferent about it, and Rachel Fuller probably ex pressed the sentiments of the sect when she said: " I will not do any thing to aid one side more than another, but any sick or suffering man who needs my help shall have it." But the prospect of the enemy s invasion disturbed the patriots; not simply because of fears for their own comfort and safety, but because of the effect upon the American army. " Rachel," said Edward Love one evening when they were dis cussing the situation, "I feel much depressed; I cannot see beyond this approaching trouble." " We must bide the time, Edward," answered Rachel. " Those who dwell in the midst of war must learn to bear suspense and suf fering." " What will thee do, Aunt Rachel, if the enemy should come right into the city?" asked Hilda. " I do not speak of any man as my enemy, Hilda, but if the British soldiers should come, I know it will be shown me what to do. I need not make plans now." 48 THE SILVER BUCKLE. The pulse of the city throbbed with feverish excitement Washington s forces encamped on the Xeshaminy Creek, about twenty miles away. A great crisis seemed to be impending, the effect of which could not fail to disturb either the patriots or the royalists in Philadelphia. On Saturday evening, August twenty-third, Edward Love came home in great excitement. " Hilda," said he, " General Washington is marching his troops to meet the British, and they will go through Philadelphia to-morrow." " Oh, Cousin Edward, how did you hear it?" " Congress has had a letter from General Washington, who is encamped with a few troops at Germantown; the others are to join him there, and they are coming through early to-morrow morning. The news is flying about the city." " Which way are they coming?" asked Hilda. " Down Front Street and out Chestnut. I ll take you round to the shop, and we shall see them." But surely it is not the whole army," said Hilda. " Xo, Hilda, there is still a large army in the North. But the soldiers who pass through to-morrow are from this part of the coun try, so we shall see some friends and acquaintances in the ranks." " 0, I must tell Jerusha; she ll not want to miss the sight," said Hilda, running to the kitchen. " I fear that a storm is coming," said Eachel Fuller, looking out of the window. " Better to-night than to-morrow," said Edward Love. And come it did that night, as if the elements wished to take part in the disturbed condition of human affairs; pouring rain, crashing thunder, blinding lightning. Rain again in the early morning, but soon the sun came forth. To shine upon what? Upon a city whose shops were closed; whose streets were quiet; whose people were making ready to keep holy the Sabbath-day? Xo. That Sabbath sun looked down upon crowded streets, upon a surging population, eager for a view of the Continental Army. The clockmaker s little shop was crowded with people; all the windows along the expected line, of march were densely thronged. Hilda s heart beat so violently that she thought Cassie, sitting beside THE SILVER "BUCKLE. 49 her, must hear it. But Cassie was listening to her own heart, throb bing convulsively at the prospect of seeing the young husband from whom she had been so soon separated. Cassie and Hilda were ac companied by Jerusha, saying little except now and then a muttered regret that they had to " waste so much time a waitin ." Suddenly the crowd sways, exclamations pass from lip to lip, the ground trembles with the tramp of the approaching host. A sound of martial music is heard. Here they come. Sound, drum and fife! March, brave troops! Hurrah, C zens! Here they come! Here they come cavalry and infantry! Aside from the officers and the foreign soldiers, but little of the splendid pomp and pageantry of war is here. The military bearing and the firm tread of the trained soldier are lacking. The costumes are varied, and in some cases grotesque. But, as if to hide these defi ciencies while passing through the nation s capital, men and horses are decorated with green leaves and branches. With confident bear ing and smiling faces come these men, who hold in their keeping the fate of this country. Brave, enthusiastic troops, do you think to make up what vou lack in experience and discipline by courage and patriotism? Do you vegard your recent successes as hopeful auguries of the future? Ah. you have not yet met England s veterans in the open field! Though burning with zeal for a just cause, you yet have much to learn, much to endure, before that cause is won. Four years stretch between you and Yorktown. There is the commander-in-chief, erect in his saddle, firm, dig nified, courteous magnificent soldier, magnificent leader of soldiers. Hurrah, hurrah, for Washington! There is Lafayette, the new arrival, twenty years old, a favorite at the most splendid court of Europe, possessor of proud title and princely wealth. He left all that was dear to him in France: he came to aid this country because his heart "espoused warmly the can?p of liberty." God bless you, Lafayette! There is Greene, a genius, a scholar, a soldier, great among the great. Strange to see the son of a New England Quaker preacher lending troops to battle! Hurrah for Nathaniel Greene! There is young Hamilton, the trusted secretary of General Wash- 50 THE SILVER BUCKLE. ington, destined to win an illustrious name in his country s annals. There is Knox, the immortal hero of the cannon; there is brave Stir ling: there is the impetuous Wayne, " Mad Anthony/ the idol of his followers; there is Count Pulaski, who, having fought in vain to save his country from a tyrant s grasp, has come to aid this struggling land, and to find in it a hero s grave; there is DeKalb, another brave soldier from foreign shores, who brings his sword to aid the patriots. Never again shall he behold his native land. Hurrah, for each and all! Look not for Sullivan; for he upon whom the heaviest burden of the coming battle is to fall is not with the army to-day. And so they pass. It is impossible to point out all the noted ones. Those having friends in the city are on the watch for them, and are easily recognized and warmly greeted. Many of Edward Love s acquaintances in the ranks look at the familiar shop and wave a salute. C assie and Hilda strain every nerve to see the two faces for which they long. " Cassie, there s Jo," cries Hilda, " fourth man from the other side in that third row back." " So it is, Hilda," said Edward Love, answering for Cassie. And at the same moment Jo sees them and answers their signals till he is too far past to look back. " ( assie, he looks well, very well," says Edward. " Don t worry about him, child; this war won t last forever," and Edward again bends his searching eyes upon the procession. Several lines pass, and every now and then Hilda thinks she sees Richard Thorpe, but finds she is mistaken. " There s Richard," cries Edward, in the middle of that fourth row he s waving to us." Hilda hardly believes it, but in an instant she catches sight of him waving his hat and smiling in his own manly, cheerful way, yet looking older and thinner. Soon after that they see John Peters, waving his hat tremen dously, and Jerusha says, "Humph! he d as soon be in war as on his farm." Though the troops went at a quick pace, and the army wagons had been sent by a different road, more than two hours were con- THE SILVER BUCKLE. 51 sumed in the passing. The excitement did not subside till long after the last regiment had left the city. Within two days from that time came the tidings that the Con tinental Army had encamped at Wilmington, and that the British fleet had anchored at the head of the Elk River, fifty miles from Philadelphia. During the next two weeks it seemed to Hilda that nothing hap pened. Hours of suspense succeeded one another; doubts and hopes and fears struggled together. It was indeed a gloomy time. Between the British and Philadelphia lay an easy march a road inhabited largely by Quakers, who would make no resistance. The Committee of Public Safety required assurance from every person that he or she would not furnish the enemy with information. Rumors came that a battle was imminent, and Congress and the public authorities prepared to leave the city. Then came the memor able day when the noise of the cannon at the Brandywine was heard, from the middle of the morning until nightfall, and all houses were closed by order of the crier. Edward Love was in the streets all that day, waiting with other men for the first authentic rumors of defeat or victory. Every man carried a gun. Late in the evening a horseman galloped down Chest nut Street, but he would give no answer to. the questioners besieging him as he passed. His silence was ominous. Not in that way would he bring news of an American victory. Men followed him desper ately to Fourth Street, where a crowd had gathered at the " Indian Queen " At the public house the rider checked his horse and would have dismounted in silence, but the crowd would not let him. " Tell your news! " " Let s hear the worst! " " Unlock your mouth! " " Where was the battle? " "Answer us! " different voices shouted. The horseman lifted his right hand as a signal for silence, and then in a loud tone, to satisfy the farthest edges of the crowd, he answered them. " The battle was at Chadd s Ford the British have the victory. More than a thousand of our men are dead on the field; the Marquis de Lafayette is wounded." Groans, murmurs, and imprecations filled the air as the man, 52 THE SILVER BUCKLE. \veary with his hard ride and dispirited because he knew he was the bearer of hateful tidings, dismounted and pushed his way into the tavern. Some of the crowd followed him; others stayed to discuss the situation. " Gurney," said Edward Love, to a man standing near him, -i you can quiet the crowd, perhaps; speak to them." So addressed, Henry Gurney stepped upon a settee in front of the " Indian Queen," some of the crowd stepping down to give him a chance, and called out, " Neighbors, do you all know me?" A number of voices answered, " Gurney; Henry Gurney," and one man added, " an Englishman." "Right! I am Henry Gurney, an Englishman, but Philadel phia is my home, and in Philadelphia are all my interests. I shall be true to Philadelphia. I want to tell you that in spite of the bad news you have just heard, you need not be cast down. I am sure that even if General Howe s troops come into the city, they will harm neither it nor its inhabitants. Do nothing to provoke them a hand ful cannot withstand an army; submission is sometimes more manly than resistance. I advise you that when the troops enter you keep your nouses closed, and if you come into the streets, come well- dressed, quiet and respectful in bearing. I am sure no violence will be offered to you if you are prudent. Xow " he paused as if doubt ful whether he ought to say more, and then he added " I bid you good-night." " Thanks, Gurney," said Edward Love, as Gurney stepped down. " The value of a word fitly spoken was appraised long ago." The men began to disperse in order to carry the news home, and in many houses that night was heard the voice of lamentation; lam entation for the thousand dead men on the field of battle, and for the prospect of the enemy s invasion. Hilda Sedgeley sat white and awestruck at the news. Rachel Fuller said, " This is one of the chances of war." Jerusha Lightfoot said, " I ve been collectin a little pile of stones in the kitchen cup board, and I ve got all the pokers and shovels together, and I ll never let a Britisher inside of this house unless Miss Rachel tells me to open the door." Two weeks later the British army encamped at Germantown, and THE SILVER BUCKLE. 53 the next day Lord Cornwallis headed the splendid troops that entered Philadelphia. Rachel Fuller would not close her shutters. " Let my house wear its daily aspect, Edward, though I shall not look out to see the troops." Edward Love had closed his shop for the day, thinking he might be needed at home. So he stood with Hilda and Jerusha at the second story window of Rachael Fuller s house, to look at the passing troops. " They are comin right peaceable like," said Jerusha. " They don t seem to be shootin at nobody, nor cuttin with their swords. Mebbe, though, they re just savin their strength till they have time to look about em." " Oh, look at this horse! " said Hilda, in a tone of alarm. Directly in front of the house, at some movement of the troops, or a sudden flourish of the trumpets, a horse had taken fright and plunged wildly toward the sidewalk. His rider, a young officer, who seemed in no way disconcerted, showed skill in managing him, but the horse stumbled suddenly and fell on his side, pinning his rider to the ground. A halt was called, the horse was raised and found to be unhurt, but the young officer lay motionless. A superior officer gave com mands to half a dozen soldiers, who surrounded their fallen comrade, the rest marching on. The men made an effort to lift the young officer, but they saw it would not be wise to carry him in that manner. Quick as thought, one of them stepped over the railing of the little balcony in front of Rachel Fuller s parlor, and lifted a shutter from one of the windows, all the shutters of the neighboring houses being closed. The officer was laid upon the shutter, and then one of the men stepped to Rachel s door, and sounded the knocker. Edward Love and Jerusha hurried down stairs, and quickly told Rachel what had happened. She and Edward hurried to the door, while Jerusha hovered in the background, uncertain whether or not the moment had come to have recourse to the stones in the kitchen cupboard. " Madam," said the soldier bowing courteously, " we must take the liberty of bringing this officer into your house. Quarters have not yet been assigned us, and he needs immediate attention." " My house is at the service of those who need it," answered Rache, ] 14 THE SILVER BUCKLE. As the men were lifting their burden, Edward said to Rachel, " Better take him to my room." " Yes, Edward, if thee will take Hilda s room, she will come into mine/ Edward led the way to the second-story back room, and before half an hour had passed, the young officer was resting in bed, and Rachel and Jerusha were assisting the soldiers in their efforts to re lieve his sufferings. CHAPTER X. PATCHWORK. " There s a new face at the door, my friend, And a new foot on the floor, my friend." Tennyson. THE life of the British in Philadelphia is a matter of history, and need not be detailed in this chronicle of a private household. The soldiers were quartered in various parts of the city some in public buildings, some in private houses, where they were not always welcome guests. The streets were at all times full of soldiers, and there were parades morning and evening. The royalists kept open house, and theatrical performances and social entertainments so occu pied the British officers that they made no strong efforts to accom plish anything in the field. To be sure, eight days after they entered the city the noise of the cannon came from Germantown, and Cornwallis quickly dis patched some of his troops through the thick morning fog to the scene of battle, and in the evening the wounded and the prisoners were brought in; but this event made little apparent change within the precincts of the city. Two weeks later, the glow of royalist satisfaction was considerably overcast by the news that six thousand men under General Burgoyne had surrendered to General Gates at Saratoga; but the cloud passed THE SILVER BUCKLE. 55 away in a short time, the substantial delights of the present causing oblivion to past discomforts and indifference to future uncertainties. And how fared it with Rachel Fuller s household? The young lieutenant, whose name was George Raymond, stayed there many weeks. His regiment was quartered in High Street near Fif.h, a:id several soldiers took turns in coming to nurse him; so his presence in the house was no serious tax upon Rachel Fuller. But the stranger had a decided effect upon Jerusha Lightfoot: her tongue was loosened. u Seems like that young man ain t no extra burden, Hilda," said she one morning, when the lieutenant had been there about six weeks. " Beyond Mr. Edward givin up his room, and you asleepin with your aunt Rachel, the lieutenant ain t made no change in the house. It does putter me out to think that before them British come to town I looked on em as sort o monsters: and yet this young man has behaved himself so decent that I feel dead sure lots of em have come to this war just because King George sent em, and not because they re full of spite and hate agen us." " Well, Jerusha," answered Hilda, " you have seen more of the lieutenant than the rest of us have, so we will take your word for it." " He only eats a little mite of our food, just so we shan t feel hurt, and he gets his biggest eatin from trie soldiers." " It s a mercy that he does," said Hilda, " when provisions are so dear." " People never know what s before em," observed Jerusha, with the air of a philosopher making an original statement: "and we don t know what we can bear till we re tried. Taint every city that could keep up with sixty vessels hemmin it in on the Delaware, and no pro visions comin in." " 0, a ship of provisions for the British came in a few days ago," interrupted Hilda. "Humph ! it ll save em eatin our food." ansAvered Jerusha. " Heart alive! T never thought to see the day when I d be a drinkin tea made of dried raspberry leaves and dried clover blossoms at mv meals, and not only be a drinkin it myself but a servin it on Miss Rachel s table as if it was real tea." "And dear old Fido," said Hilda, hugging him, "you never thought to see the time when you couldn t get a taste of meat, except 56 THE SILVER BUCKLE. once in a while a soup bone, did you? And you never thought to see the time when you wouldn t be allowed to bark at strange soldiers walking in and out our front door, did you? " There s one thing I d like to know/ resumed Jerusha, " that is, whether the big officers has real tea in their quarters. Somehow, I mis trust about General Howe settin down reg lar to steeped raspberries or boiled sage." " Why don t you ask the lieutenant, Jerusha?" " I did ask him, Hilda, and he laughed and said he didn t know. But of course he knows. The big officers can t do nothin that the whole army doesn t know about, only Lieutenant Raymond don t like to hurt our feelin s." " There s the front door," said Hilda, as a slight noise was heard, " the soldiers have gone out now." " I s pose they ve fixed him for the mornin then, and I can go u^ and put his room in order," said Jerusha, starting up stairs. " Settin up, are ye?" said she to the young officer, as she entered his room. " Yes, Jerusha, I m not going to stay in bed any longer, but it may be a good while before I am able to walk about. You must ask Miss Fuller to come and see the improvement." " She s gone out," answered Jerusha. " She s gone to see sick folks at the almshouse." " She s a good woman, Jerusha." "Good!" exclaimed Jerusha, with much energy. "I ve lived with her more than ten years, and I never heard her say a mean word and I never knowed her do a mean tiling. Some folks gets cross when they work, and you don t dare speak to em because they re busy; but she can work without bein cross; you can always speak to her. And she goes to see the sick, but she never goes a runnin when she ought to be at home." " Well, you have given her a noble character, Jerusha, and I have no doubt she deserves it." " I m a wonderin , Lieutenant Raymond, what you re goin to do with yourself, settin there doin nothin ." " That bothers me, too, Jerusha. I m well enough now to want to do something. Can you give me any work? " THE SILVER BUCKLE. 57 " Could you piece a quilt? " asked Jerusha. Lieutenant Raymond was startled at this unexpected question. It seemed that by his idle offer of service he had been suddenly en trapped. He laughed, and said, " I m not sure " Like this," said Jerusha, pointing to the quilt on the bed. " Could you sew pieces of prints together? She looked at him, as if she would judge his whole character by his answer. " I might," he said slowly. " if you will show me." " Well, now, thai s somethin like. You might be able to get a whole quilt pieced if you work steady and set there long enough. I ll bring some pieces when I get done my work. It s not log cabin, it s just squares ." The young man was amused, and was also puzzled to know how he should stand the ordeal. The words " log cabin " and " squares " presented very vague meanings to him. " You or Miss Fuller will have to sit with me when I work," said he; "I could not sew alone." " I don t sew much at quilts except in the evenin s, and then you don t need company, for the soldiers is mostly with you in the evenin s. Mebbe sometimes Hilda would come in, but I mistrust that." "Who is Hilda?" " She s Miss Rachel s niece." " 0, please ask her to come, if only for half an hour a day. I ll sew hard if you provide me with company." " Well, I ll see," said Jerusha in a non-committal way, as she left the room. Fortunately for the lieutenant s cause, Hilda had been invited to spend the morning and take dinner with Cassie Lake. Ever since Jo s departure Cassie had been living with her mother, just around the corner from Rachel Fuller s, so the two young girls were often to gether. They never took long walks together any more, for the city was full of soldiers, but they traversed freely the short distance be tween the two houses. Jerusha took advantage of Hilda s absence, when Rachel and Edward were seated at dinner, to present the lieutenant s case. " It s come into my head how as we can make good use of that young man upstairs. He s desperate lonely when the soldiers ain t here, and they ain t here so much now that he ain t so helpless, and he s desperate 58 THE SILVER BUCKLE. anxious for somethin to do. He s full willin to sew quilt pieces, which I ll show him how to do, if he can have company while he works. And I don t see hut what it would be good to ask Hilda to go and set with him sometimes, taking her work while he has his." "Has thee spoken to Hilda?" asked Rachel. And at the same time Edward said, " I am afraid it would not do." " No, ma am, I would not say a word to Hilda till I had asked you; but if you think about it you won t see no objections. Hilda s not the kind of a girl to look bold doin a thing like that, and she d take no fancy to him, she s so set agen the British. And, Miss Rachel, you d be in and out some, and when you were not I could hover, so as he could know we was doin this out of pure kindness to him and a desire to get a quilt pieced, and not to give him a chance to talk to a girl." " Well, Jerusha, we will talk about it," said Rachel, and Jerusha left the room. " I would not do anything that might lead to a friendship between Hilda and a foreign soldier," said Edward. "Nor I, Edward: but we might ask Cassie Lake to come in the afternoons and bring her work, and then she and Hilrla could go to gether to the lieutenant s room, and the conversation would be general. I would take my work in, too, when I could, and in this way we could give the young man pleasant company. It might do him much good, and do us no harm." " In that way the plan does not sound so objectionable, Rachel, but it will be a great responsibility for thee." " Yes, but I am willing to accept it, and I think no harm will come of it." So Rachel went around to Eriend Armstrong s and told the plan to Cassie s mother and the two girls. Hilda said she would if Cassie would, and Cassie said she didn t mind it if Hilda didn t, so Jerusha and Lieutenant Raymond triumphed. The next afternoon Rachel Fuller was called out because of the sudden illness of an aged Friend in the neighborhood, so Jerusha es corted Cassie and Hilda to the lieutenant s room . "Are ye wantin company, Lieutenant Raymond?" said Jerusha, when she had obeyed the lieutenant s invitation to " come in." THE SILVER BUCKLE. 59 " Yes, indeed, Jerusha," and the pale face lighted up with pleas ure. " This is Mrs. Lake and Miss Sedgeley," said Jerusha, inwardly amazed at the ease with which she pronounced their titles for the first time in her life. " Mrs. Lake Miss Sedgeley," said the lieutenant, smiling and bowing; " I am sorry that I can not rise and play the part of courteous host by placing chairs for you." They seated themselves while Jerusha said, " Indeed, Lieutenant Raymond, you may be sure if you was able to rise and play the part of courteous host they wouldn t be a visitin ye." This remark broke the ice, and they all laughed. " Don t forget that you ve promised to sew what I showed you yesterday," said Jerusha, as she left the room. " Sew? " said Hilda, inquir ingly, for the lieutenant s part of the program had not been ex plained by her aunt Rachel. " Miss Sedgeley, pity me," said the lieutenant, lifting some papers from the table and dis closing a pile of patches, a large thimble, a needle and thread. " She expects me to sew things together so that the result will be a quilt." The girls laughed heartily. " She began this patch for me," con tinued the young man, " so I must try to. sew two or three bits to gether, or she will lose faith in me." This was the beginning of the pleasant intercourse with Lieu tenant Raymond, which continued for several weeks. He became 60 THE SILVER BUCKLE. better acquainted with Hilda than if he had seen her alone. Alone with him she would have felt embarrassed, but in the presence of others she could converse freely with him and was her natural self. He told them of England and of his home. His father was dead; he had two elder sisters married to country gentlemen, and they were leaders in the society of their neighborhood. His mother divided her time between the houses of her daughters, " and," said the lieutenant, " I am left pretty much to myself. The old house is mine, but I have a tenant in it, and I am a homeless wanderer/ The young man made friends with Fido and Fairy, and taught them new tricks. He sewed laboriously at his patchwork, much to Jerusha s satisfaction. He inferred, from something that was said, that Cassie s husband was in the army, but he asked no questions and the girls never spoke to him of private affairs. Jerusha bore testi mony afterward that " he was a gentleman anyhow, for he never tried to get no family secrets out o me underhand erl." So while his brother officers and his superiors were enjoying the freedom of the city, Lieutenant Raymond was enjoying a home whose atmosphere was simple, yet refined; whose inmates lived without osten tation, without formality, yet with perfect courtesy; with dignified resignation to trial, with serene hope for the future. It was his first experience of a home of this sort, and it roused his best emotions. The soldiers brought him stories of gallant adven tures in the city, but he felt no desire to leave his peaceful haven. THE SILVER BUCKLE. 61 CHAPTER XI. A SKILLFUL ARTIST. " How the world is made for each of us." Robert Browning. A FEW days before Christmas George Raymond was able to leave Rachel Fuller s house, and go to the quarters of his regiment. " Miss Fuller, will you give me permission to call some evening, to see how your household fares? " he asked at parting. We shall be pleased to see thee, George Raymond, if thee cares to come/ answered Rachel. He thanked her gracefully, and took his leave. There were no Christmas festivities in the homes of the patriots that year. "Even the Christmas service does not seem quite the same, Hilda," said Edward Love, as they walked home from church. " I miss my good friend, Mr. "White, more than ever in to-day s service, and am less able to feel resigned to the presence of the British preacher. I hope the New Year will bring a change for the better. I wish Washington s men were in a condition to attack the city." " But that would mean fighting, Cousin Edward," said Hilda, with a tremor in her voice. " Yes, child, but the struggle would be over the sooner. This delay does not help matters much; it merely prolongs suspense. There is much dissatisfaction with Washington s present course, but I dare say he knows the condition of his troops better than we can know it." Late in January, 1778, came a letter from Richard Thorpe to Edward Love, enclosing the following one to Hilda: DEAR FRIEND HILDA: It seems a weary while since I had a Letter from you, three whole months. I know you have written, but the Letters have not come to hand. I cannot write Freely, for this may not reach you but fall into the hands of strangers. I need hardly tell you what you know so well, that you are constantly in my mind. Yet I can say without boasting that the sufferings of this Winter have taught me Patience and have shewn me what 5 62 THE SILVER BUCKLED men can bear. We came to Valley Forge Decemb ye 19, puorly clad, and with small stock of Provisions. At first we slept upon the hillside, though the weather was Bitter and the ground frozen hard. I with three others had one Blanket between us, which we put over our feet. As soon as we were able we cut down the trees of the Forest, and built log huts to shelter u>. Can you imagine a little town of log hut<? But even yet on the very cold nights we sleep sitting up around the fires. We bake cakes made of flour and water. 1 will not distress you by giv ing a full account of our sufferings. We hope that the Worst is over. \Ve have Shelter and by going to the neighboring wood we can get Fuel. We are still confident of Success, and know that our Cause is just. A German Baron is coming to our camp, named Steuben; he is a soldier, and in the Spring he will train us as soldiers are trained in Europe. That will prepare us bet ter. This War will not last Forever, and when it is over if you will give me your Hand I will devote my life to you. But if your Heart is inclined to another, 1 shall try to bear my loss with Fortitude. Ever Yours, R. T. After the receipt of this letter Hilda felt that she could never bear to see Lieutenant Raymond again. The British soldiers were living in ease and comfort, while the American troops were enduring hardships which they dared not recount. Then her reason told her that Lieutenant Raymond was not to blame, nor were any of the British soldiers individually: these situa tions were simply the chances of war. So when the lieutenant spent an hour at Rachel Fuller s house, Hilda made one of the family group. He did not come often, but he was always courteous and affable: and though Edward Love disliked the regiment as a whole more and more each day, he had no cause to dislike Lieutenant Raymond personally. The lieutenant often went to Edward s shop and seemed anxious to win his esteem. One February morning Jerusha was scrubbing the front steps when the lieutenant came along. "Good morning, Jerusha," said he, "all well in the household? " "All as usual, lieutenant. Are ye com in in?" " Xot this morning, Jerusha; I have some work to do." Jernsha gave him an incredulous glance, and he added, "It s not sewing, it s painting. You didn t know that I could paint, did you? " THE SILVER BUCKLE. 63 "Doors or shutters?" asked Jerusha. " Neither, Jerusha; it s trees and palaces." Hilda, dusting the parlor, heard the conversation, and was amused by it. Jerusha scrubbed vigorously to let the young man see that he could not jest with her. " Well, you see, Jerusha, some of our officers are fond of getting up little plays for amusement, and Major Andre, who lives over there in Mr. Franklin s house, paints the scenery for the stage. But he is sick to-day, and he wants help from anyone who can give it; so my regiment sent me to help him." "Humph! I ve heard of stages and scenery, but I don t know what they are, and I don t want to know. You d better let em alone." " 0, I m not going to let them harm me," said the young man, reassuringly. " By the way, Jerusha, wouldn t you like to have your portrait painted? I can paint portraits, and I should be so glad to do something in return for all your goodness to me." This masterly stroke of diplomacy completely conquered Jerusha. "Would ye, really?" said she. "But no, I can t see no reason in bavin your portrait painted if you re not handsome. I couldn t abear to die and leave it hangin on the wall. If ye die without a portrait folks don t remember exactly what ye looked like, and they think ye was handsomer than ye really was, and speak of your comeliness. Now my father was a handsome man; for twenty years I ve been a-wishin I had a portrait o him. If you could do a portrait o him "Does he live here?" asked the lieutenant, slightly puzzled by the seeming discrepancy of her remarks. "Live here? He died twenty-five year ago in England. But mebbe if I tell you how he looked "Yes, yes, Jerusha, certainly; I think I could paint your father s portrait. I ll come one afternoon a week. The days are growing longer, and I shall have a good chance." " That ll suit me fine, lieutenant, for in the afternoon I often have settin -down work, like sewing; and I could attend to the picture. Only I must speak to Miss Each el first; I won t do it if she s not willin ." "Very well, Jerusha; I ll call soon to find out when we are to begin the portrait. Good morning." 64 THE SILVER BUCKLE. In a short time the portrait was begun, for Rachel Fuller could not refuse the only favor Jerusha had asked for herself for years. The * sittings " or " hearings/ as Hilda called them, took place in the dining-room, and enlivened many hours that might otherwise have been sad. " Before I fix the canvas, Jerusha, give me an idea how large you would like it," said the lieutenant, deferentially. I went up to the attic this mornin , lieutenant, and got an old gilt frame that used to be on a mirror, and I ll have it that size, be cause the frame is ready. I ll fetch it." " Miss Sedgeley," said the young man, " you must do all in your power to help me through this ordeal. Don t desert me, will you? " " I won t desert you, lieutenant; I am too anxious to see how you will manage." " Encouraged by your presence, Miss Sedgeley, I am confident of success. Ah, Jerusha, is this the frame? This is excellent for size; just right for a portrait. Now, then, give me a general idea of your father s features." " He had a mod rate sized head, his face was wide across the upper part, but come down quite narrow to the chin; always had a good, fresh color, smooth face, ordinary nose, brown eyes, and a cheerful smile." " What kind of hair had he? " " Hair? Oray with some dark in it, a little thin and layin flat to the top of his head, but thick and curly round the lower part. He wore a brown coat and waistcoat, a high collar, with a brown necker chief tied in a large bow." " Well," said the lieutenant, thoughtfully, " I think I have an idea of him. I ll begin the work, but, of course, you ll have to tell me these things again as I go on, and you ll have to watch and tell mo when I make a mistake." Xever was work more closely scrutinized than that portrait from start to finish. Jerusha was always in a critical mood, and yet was pleased with the artist s progress. He did not work regularly at the picture, and it was the middle of April before it was ready for the fin ishing touches. During one of these last " hearings," when the air was full of the THE SILVER BUCKLE. 65 promises of spring, the lieutenant said: " Miss Sedgeley, you are glad at the prospect of spring. Has the winter seemed so sad to you? " " I have never liked winter/ said Hilda, " and this winter has been specially hard." Jerusha was flitting in and out of the room. "Now," said the artist, to Jerusha, is the complexion right? " " Face ain t fresh enough." " Well, then, I ll soon fix that." Then he continued his conver sation with Hilda. " The miseries of war/ he said gently, " are mani fold and indescribable. Our men have felt uncomfortable this winter many times at the knowledge that their presence in the city must seem like an insult to the American patriots." " From all the accounts I judge that the British have borne up nobly under their discomfort," said Hilda, sarcastically. " Jerusha, how s that? What next? " " Too much point to the nose." " 0, that s easily altered," and he proceeded to remove the ob jectionable point. " Miss Sedgeley, you are not so unjust, are you, as to judge all our men by the actions of some? The circumstances of this winter have been peculiar. Consider, too, that a soldier s life is a hard one, and he could not endure it as he does if he did not take advantage of every respite allowed him. Now, Jerusha?" " It seems to me them eyes is too dark." " I ll make them lighter, and see how you like them. Do not imagine, Miss Sedgeley, that our troops in general feel any instinctive hatred for the American soldiers. We must do our duty in the ser vice of our King, but I think I may say, without being recreant to duty, that most of us have a feeling of admiration for your soldiers, and under similar circumstances we would do as they have done. Jerusha, what is your opinion now?" " That neckerchief ain t tied stiff enough, and the bow ought to be bigger." " I can alter it in a few minutes, and then we ll see. T suppose, Miss Sedgeley, Philadelphia has good cause to remember the British soldiers for years to come, but I can assure you that some of the Brit ish soldiers will remember Philadelphia as long as they live. I, for one shall always retain sweet memories of this household: I am not yet strong enough to face the possibility of departure from this city, CG THE SILVER BUCKLE. and, if I must go, I shall return as soon as possible." He looked at her earnestly. " \\ e hear that General Howe is going back to England," said Hilda, desiring to keep the conversation from becoming more em barrassing. " Yes, it is no secret now; there is to be a change of command ers." " I have seen him riding in his coach, and I cannot bear him," remarked Hilda. "I think Lord Howe is much nicer looking. Ts he going, too?" " I cannot tell yon. But you have heard that General Howe s staff officers are preparing a great farewell demonstration?" " Yes, we have heard rumors of a gay tourna ment or ball. What is the queer name they call it ? " "The Mischianza. It is a Spanish name, I believe, meaning a tilt or tournament. Some of the officers are to dress in fancy pink and white trousers, and have for their device a white and red rose, and call themselves Knights of the Blended Rose." Other officers are to wear black and orange, and they will call themselves Knights of the Burning Mountain/ as that is their device. There will not be any real fighting, you may know; there will be some peacefid way of deciding their challenge to each other, and nobody s feelings will be hurt. Tt will have no interest for me, except as a pretty sight. I will tell you all about it afterward, if you will allow me. Now, Jerusha, I have been waiting for you to come and tell me what to do next." " You ll have to make a scar about as long as my thumb nail on that right cheek-bone." Tbe scar and otber adjustments were successfully portrayed. "When at last the picture was finished and put into the frame, newly gilded for this purpose, Jerusha beamed with satisfaction. " It couldn t ha been better, lieutenant. So life-like! Many folks don t get as good a likeness as that in settiiv for their real portraits." THE SILVER BUCKLE 67 CHAPTER XII. HILDA S BIRTHDAY. " That life is long which answers life s great end." Young. THE twentieth of May, two days after the great tournament, was Hilda s birthday. It was bright and beautiful, and roused a thrill of hope in her heart, though nothing in comparison with the spring raptures of former years. Dear child," said her aunt Rachel, " the house affords thee only trifling gifts this birthday; but thee will see better days, I trust, and in the meantime thee has our love and full assurance of our delight in thee." Edward Love had gone out early into the fields for wild flowers. He had gathered blossoms daily for Hilda since -their first appearance this spring, but to-day the supply had to be more abundant. He had, in fact, two bouquets. "These flowers, Hilda." he said, handing her one bunch, "I picked for Richard s sake, doing what he would do if he were here; and these," giving her the other bunch, " shall speak for me and tell thee how gladly I would enrich thy life if I could." " Thee has enriched it always, Cousin Edward, in ways that I can never show thee. These flowers are so sweet and beautiful that they make me sad. It seems that spring ought not to come till we are ready to be glad with it." " Nature could not afford to wait, Hilda. The good Lord is mak ing earth beautiful again, and it is man s privilege to enjoy it. Let us enjoy what we may; life comes easier so." Memories of the past surged through Hilda s mind that day, and for a time the present was forgotten. She seemed to be more with Richard: his face was before her, his voice was in her ear. He seemed to lie saying again the words of that memorable April even ing. " These flowers have magical charms; when they have told their secret thev will fade." For the first time in more than three years 68 THE SILVER BUCKLE. she fastened the silver buckle in the soft muslin tucker of her gown that afternoon. It seemed to her as if she had had it for ages, or as if her aunt Rachel had given it to a different Hilda from the one that now possessed it. In the afternoon Lieutenant Raymond knocked at the front door, and when Jerusha answered the summons he asked for Miss Sedgeley." Jerusha was surprised, for he had never called in the daytime except when he was painting the portrait, and he had iK-ver tried to see Hilda alone. Jerusha was so awed by the formality of this visit that without a word she showed the lieutenant into the parlor. Rachel Fuller made no comment upon the announcement, " Lieu tenant Raymond s in the parlor, and he wants to see Hilda, and he looks as if somethin had happened. " Good afternoon, Miss Sedgeley/ said the lieutenant, as she entered the room; " you seem to have a festive air about you. The effect is charming, I assure you; though your effects are always charm- ing." "Please don t, Lieutenant Raymond; you know I am not used to such compliments. I don t know how to answer them, as society ladies do, so you have me at a disadvantage. T am a little gay to-day, for it is my birthday, and I am sort of playing by myself, as a child does sometimes." "Your birthday, Miss Sedgeley," he repeated; and as he looked at her his color deepened. He paused a moment, and then said: " What a happy coincidence! I have something to tell you, besides describing the Mischianza, but first allow me to wish you many happy 1 i 1 . 1 J * * -I 1 * birthdays. Thank you, lieutenant; if good wishes have power. I need not fear the future, thanks to my friends." " I came to tell you what my heart bids me say, but T did not dream that the hour would be so auspicious. Hilda, he said, draw ing his chair close, and taking her hand, " I have tried more than once to show my feeling for you, but you seemed not to notice. Xo\v T must speak plainly, for I have learned to love you so that I can no longer be silent. I can satisfy your relatives as to my home and my THE SILVER BUCKLE. 69 character, I am perfectly free to offer you my love, and I ask you to accept it. Does not your heart bid you say yes ? " As she did not speak he continued. " This war need be no obsta cle to our happiness. I would not ask you to leave your home now, but will you not allow me. to hope that when the war is over I may come for you? Hilda, let my cause be strengthened by this voice from the past," and he drew from his waistcoat an ornament attached to his watchguard and held it toward her the silver buckle. With a cry she sprang to her feet, grasping the buckle with trem bling fingers. " Dear Hilda, do not let this frighten you. I had no expectation of finding its counterpart when I came into this house to-day. I came to tell you of my love; my affections were given you long before I saw the buckle on your gown. But when I saw it my heart leaped, for I felt that Fortune had come with both hands full. " She loosened her buckle, and placed it by the other, to examine them closely. The tracery of the ivy and oak leaves was similar; the date, 1660, was on each; on hers were the words, " Fortis, Fidelis; " on his was the completion of the motto, " Felix." Hilda felt dizzy. " 0, Lieutenant Raymond," she exclaimed, " I have not thought of you in this way." " Xo, dearest, but does the thought seem disagreeable now? Is there any reason why I could not win your love? Will you not let me try? My feelings toward you will never change. I consider myself pledged to you, but you are still free. You have been too suddenly surprised. Do not answer me to-night, only say that I may come again, let me come often, as a familiar friend, with the hope that your heart will incline toward me that you will bless the Providence that has brought us together that you will accept this silver buckle as a happy omen. Shall I leave you now, and come again to-morrow evening?" " Yes," she answered faintly. He rose at once. "Good-bye, sweetheart," he said, and, kissing her hand, he left the house. Hilda replaced her buckle, and went to her room as one walking in sleep. She did not know her own heart. When she was herself again she went down stairs thinking tea 70 THE SILVER BUCKLE. must be ready. She found her Aunt Rachel waiting, for Cousin Ed ward had not yet come. " Strange what keeps him," said Rachel Fuller, anxiously. " If he don t come soon," said Jerusha, " I ll run round to the shop and see if he s extra busy. If he d been took sick the clerk would a come round and told us." The anxiety deepened, and at last Jerusha went to the shop, and came back breathless, attended by the clerk. " Mr. Love left the shop at four o clock," the clerk said, " to take a littte walk. He had just been chatting awhile with that Lieutenant Raymond, and had fitted a key to his watch. He was just as usual all day, but looked a little pale when he left, I thought, and seemed to lean a little harder on his cane." In that instant Hilda knew that her cousin had seen the silver buckle on the lieutenant s watchguard, and had been disturbed by it. Where was he now?" After a hurried consultation as to where he should be sought, they ran to the houses of friends, but in vain. It was almost dark when one of the neighbors suggested that they should put Fido on the scent for him, so the faithful dog was called into service. And where was Edward Love? That afternoon when he had recognized the silver buckle he had made no sign. The lieutenant did not know that the buckle had aroused any emotions; the clerk had heard nothing. What Edward s feelings were may be imagined. His great love for Richard, his conviction that Richard loved Hilda, his knowledge of Hilda s superstitious feelings about the buckle, all combined to make the sudden revelation of the afternoon well-nigh intolerable. As soon as he could he left the shop, and turned his steps toward Christ Church, his favorite resting-place at this hour, when the organist was generally practicing. He entered, but did not go near the organ loft, as he had usually done before, but sat down in a distant pew, where he remained unobserved. He was gathering courage to face an impending sorrow. 0, gentle, loving heart, who shall say what thoughts visited thoe that bright spring afternoon, in thy beloved church, when the silence was broken only by the organ s solemn music! Did thy youth come A corner of Christ Church. t 2 THE SILVER BUCKLE. back again, with its hopes and ambitions? Didst thou dwell once more in thy early home in beautiful England: Did the disappoint ment of thy married life press more closely on thy tired heart, making thee more conscious of the mockery of thy love s young dream? Were thy physical sufferings more acute by reason of thy mental anguish? Did thy present sorrow overwhelm thee, whispering with phantom voice, " Lo, thy life s evening is to be cold and gray? Or did the hallowed influences of the place reassure thee, saying, " Thy strength shall be as thy days? " Hilda, Jerusha, the clerk, and two or three neighbors were led to the church door by the sagacious dog, who would not be diverted from his course. The sexton was quickly summoned, a lantern was lighted, the door was opened, and there they found him, sitting cold and still. The troubled child had found everlasting peace in his Father s house. The dreadful shock to Hilda s young life, and the loss of her dear companion and counsellor, were intensified by the certainty that he had suffered because of her. She spoke of it to no one at that time, and no one suspected it. Rachel Fuller did not dream that the lieutenant possessed the talisman that would influence Hilda; the clerk knew nothing about the buckle: the lieutenant knew nothing of Richard: Hilda alone comprehended the situation. For days she was nervous and feverish, seeing no one except her aunt Rachel, Cassie, and Jerusha. Before she gathered strength to come down stairs again, the Brit ish army had left Philadelphia, and" American troops, led by General Arnold, had taken possession of the city. Lieutenant Raymond had paid a farewell visit to Rachel Fuller, leaving this note for Hilda. MY DEAREST: I sympathize too sincerely with you to intrude upon your Grief. Be comforted. If you will accept my Love you will have constant Companionship and Devotion. Together we will Cherish the Memory of the One who is gone. When the War is over I will come for my Answer. Yours in life and death, 17 June, 1778. GEORGE RAYMOND. THE SILVER BUCKLE. 73 CHAPTER XIII. FROM CAMP TO FIELD. "Posterity! you will never know how much it cost the present generation to preserve your freedom! I hope you will make good use of it. If you do not, 1 shall repent it in heaven that I ever took half the pains to preserve it." John Adams. How FARED it meanwhile with the Continental Army? Did the sweet springtime visit the vale of misery and suffering? Yes, thank heaven! Gradually the bitter winds at Valley Forge gave place to mild, healing breezes; the streams resumed their wonted courses; the hard earth was covered with a soft green carpet, most grateful to the unshod feet that had left blood-prints upon the sharp, frozen ground; strengthening herbs sprang up side by side with wild flowers; the win ter of unparalleled suffering, self-sacrifice, and heroism became, at last, to the eleven thousand survivors, nothing but an awful memory. Early in May the camp thrilled with new life and stronger hope because of the news that Erance would aid their cause. General Wash ington ordered the chaplains to read aloud the Treaty of Alliance and to offer special thanks becaiise there had been " raised up a powerful friend among the princes of the earth." The troops were inspected and reviewed, and then, amid the noise of artillery and musketry, went up the mighty shout, " Long live the King of France." The troops had greatly profited by the careful training and mili tary discipline introduced some weeks before by Baron Steuben, and felt more confident of themselves. So, as the season advanced, they began to be impatient for a new encounter with the enemy. This desire was strengthened when it was rumored that the British would ere long be obliged to evacuate Philadelphia, as General Washington had more than once found means to cut off their supplies, and a French fleet would soon be in the Delaware and hem them in completely. The departure of the British from Philadelphia has already been mentioned in connection with Lieutenant Raymond. Their objective point was New York, in order to unite with the forces then in 74 THE SILVER BUCKLE. possession of that city. About three thousand of their men were sent round by sea, but the others took up the line of inarch. And so it came about that the high noon of June 18th, 1778, and the ten succeeding days saw a strange commotion in the Province of Xew Jersey. A splendid army, more than ten thousand in number, under the renowned leaders, Clinton, C ornwallis, and Knyphausen, moved along in a northeasterly direction, the fine uniforms and trap pings making a brilliant show in spite of the clouds of dust which filled the air; and, stretching behind it, in a line twelve miles long, were the baggage wagons. Then, in due time, another army rose upon the landscape. It had inarched northward from Valley Forge, it had crossed the Delaware above Trenton, it watched the British troops, it more than once retarded their march. So, the two great hostile forces moved along, each mindful of the other. At Hopewell, near Princeton, General Washington called a coun cil of war. " Generals," said he, " the British are at Allen Town. Our detachments have harrassed them; they regard us as a formidable host, for they have changed their course and are taking the Monmouth Road, doubtless with the intention of reaching Sandy Hook as speed ily as possible. The conditions seem to me favorable for making a general attack. What do you think, gentlemen?" " I believe it could be easily planned and successfully carried out, General," said Greene. " I think your Excellency s judgment is good," said Lafayette. " I am eager to attack them," said Wayne. "I think, General," said Cadwalader, "that we might strike a blow that would greatly injure them." " General, it cannot be done with any chance of success," said Lee. " The armies are too nearly equal in numbers for us to hope for advantage in the open field. Consider how it was at the Brandy- wine and at Germantown. This would be but a repetition of those disasters." " Our men are in better condition now, and are more easily di rected, thanks to you, Baron Steuben," said General Washington. " Their training has not been tested upon the battlefield," an swered Lee. "If the British defeat us now, they would leave us THE SILVER BUCKLE. 75 exhausted, while they, hurrying away, would unite with their New York forces and could strike a decisive blow before we had recovered." General Washington proceeded to detail some plans that he thought would render the attack successful; but so hot was Lee in his. opposition that most of the other officers, except those who had al ready expressed themselves in favor of it, gave voice against the attack, and the council broke up. Afterward, however, Lafayette, Greene, and Wayne sent in written remonstrances ^against the decision, and General Washington announced that he would " move on and be gov erned by circumstances." Both armies moved forward. On Saturday evening, the twenty- seventh of June, they encamped within six miles of each other, the British variously disposed near Monmouth Court-House, and the Americans west of English Town, with advanced detachments under Lee nearer to the enemy. Lee had at first begged to be excused from this appointment, and General Washington had placed Lafayette in charge. Later, however, Lee had asked for the place, and Lafayette had generously yielded and taken the second command. Lee had under him five thousand men, and some of the bravest officers. Gen eral Washington had given them orders to " lose no fair opportunity for an attack." The night was oppressively hot; the day had been sultry; showers had fallen, but without any cooling effect; the ground seemed to steam. Many of the soldiers had been prostrated, some had died. Midnight brought a slight relief, but with the earliest ray of dawn it became evident that the heat of the new day would be of awful intensity. Nature was in a malevolent mood, and seemed to be showing how cruel she can sometimes be to man. And on that hot, sickening, Sunday morning man should have relaxed his efforts and rested from his labors; but he did not. His hand was lifted against his brother. On that day was fought what is known in history as the battle of Monmouth. It was the strangest battle of the Revolution. It might so easily have been made the decisive, conclusive battle, but it was not. Nowhere did men perform more daring deeds, yet nothing material was gained. The vacillation of the irritable, jealous Lee rendered fruit less the best efforts of the Americans. He neglected to concentrate ?6 THE SILVER BUCKLE. his troops, he took no proper advantage of opportunities, though re peatedly urged to do so by Wayne and Lafayette; nor did he send any messages to the main army beyond English Town. Two slight skirmishes occurred in the early morning, when the British took up the line of march. A third and serious one began about eleven o clock, in the course of which the advance guards of the British, a mile distant, wheeled about and began to retrace their steps toward the scene of action. Lee, suddenly seeing his men in a dangerous situation, gave orders to retreat. The men, weary with hours of marching and countermarching, parched with thirst, weak ened by loss of hope, retreated rapidly across the bridge over the ravine at the west of the field, Lee bringing up the rear. Meanwhile, General Washington, a few miles distant, hearing the heavy cannonading, knew that a battle was in progress; and, though he had received from Lee no request for reinforcements, he set out with the whole army. Ever and anon, as the eager columns pushed forward under the hot noonday sun, through shifting sand and chok ing dust, they heard the roar of artillery, and they thought of vic tory. But what was their dismay when they received news that Lee s, forces were in full retreat, with the British in pursuit! Then they met the first of the fugitives, who were not able to give any account of the action, nor any reason for the retreat. Washington, frenzied with anger, called a halt, and, spurring his white horse onward, de scended like a thunderbolt upon Lee. " Sir, in the name of heaven, what does this mean? " " Sir sir," stammered Lee, beginning some excuse. "Will you take command of these men?" interrupted Washing ton, " and check the enemy, if I form the line of battle? " " Yes," said Lee, stung to fury, " and T will not be the first to leave the field." From point to point galloped the commander-in-chief, giving the necessary orders, while the troops, infused with new spirit, shouted, "Long live Washington." He drew the men into line, he wheeled them around, and Lee led them forward, while Washington went back and brought up the main army. Then the battle became furious. The British grenadiers bore down with tremendous force upon the central column under Wayne; THE SILVER BUCKLE. 7? the right wing under Greene was hard pressed; the deadly cannon ading of Knyphausen responded promptly to the cannonading of Stir ling and Knox. The roar of the battle was heard for many miles, the whole plain shook with the force of the conflict. But, little by little, inch by inch, step by step, the Continental Army forced the British backward a short distance, and the darkness of night merci fully stayed the strife. Within sight of each other, resting upon their arms, Americans and British laid down upon the battlefield. Among the prostrate forms were many dead and dying. Some of the dying were horribly conscious of their sufferings, others were in a blissful stupor. Near to a young man whose lifeblood was slowly but surely ebbing from a ghastly wound, and who, from the moment of his fall, had been keenly sensible of his martyrdom, was a form that had lain rigid for hours. But life had not really left him, and at last he began to relax and show other hopeful signs. He rubbed his face, he stretched his arms, he raised himself to a sitting posture, he drew up his knees, and, putting his elbows upon them, rested his head upon his hands. The terrible weakness of a gradual return to consciousness after a long period of insensibility can hardly be understood by those who have not had such an experience. After a time the man, trying thus to rally his forces, became aware of the sufferer beside him. He bent toward him and managed to say, though his throat was parched and his lips were blistered, " Did you speak to me? " " Yes," answered the other faintly, " I have been longing to speak, but there seemed to be no one to listen. I cannot see whether you are one of us or not." " I am an American," answered the first speaker. " Then we have been against each other, but it matters little now." " Who has the field?" asked the American. " I cannot tell. I think your troops. Will you take a trust from me and fulfill it as you hope for mercy in your dying moments? Oh! water, water," he moaned. " Yes, water," echoed the American; " I must try to find some." 6 80 THE SILVER BUCKLE. frightened, they ran to the kitchen and were astonished to see the usually imperturbable Jerusha laughing hysterically, with tears rolling down her cheeks and both hands uplifted to push aside John Peters, who was flourishing a large tin dipper full of water, and trying to induce her to take a drink. " 1 come in too sudden, give her a kind o turn," said John, by way of explanation. " 1 know she is glad to see thee, John Peters, and so am I," said Rachel, shaking hands with him heartily. " John Peters," said Hilda, grasping both his hands, for Jerusha had recovered her composure and taken the dipper from him, " it is just good to see you. But how did you get here? " 1 thought it was one o them Injuns rushin in," said Jerusha. " I know d it couldn t be anybody belongin to the city, a pouncin in in such a heathen way." " Xo," said John, loudly and emphatically, " it s somebody be long-in to the country, and somebody who likes the country so much that he s goin to stay in the country, and not go roamin round with soldiers no more." " Why, John, has thee come home to stay? " asked Rachel Fuller. "Yes, I ve come home to stay. My time was up again in the army, and I just said to myself, l John Peters, don t yon go and re- enlist as you done before. There ll be a famine if some men don t go bark to the farms and raise decent crop?. So home I come. My farm s been idle for three years, but I m goin to do some tremendous work on it, and have big crops next season, and the soldiers is goin to get the best o them." "House must need a lot o cleanin, bein shut up so long," said Jerusha. " Tt may need it, but it won t get it," said John. "A heathen way to live," muttered Jerusha, "but good enough for the beatben country." " Toll u? something about tbe war. John," said Hilda. " T can t tell you anything more than you know already. Tt ? beon a month since T quit, but T oomo borne slow, for T was sick ovor yonder in the Jerseys. I ain t seen Richard Thorpe nor Josiah Lake THE SILVER BUCKLE. 81 since we broke up camp at Valley Forge, for 1 was changed to a differ ent company." " But, John, tell us some stories about the war; tell us some of the things you have seen and heard," said Hilda. "1 won t tell nothin ," said John, decidedly, "for it 1 did you d be sittin 1 do\vn picturin things to yourself, and there ain t not bin* pleasant about war. 1 don t see why folks should talk for the sake o talkin unless they re talkin o somethin pleasant." " Does thee know of our loss, John?" asked Rachel. "Yes," said he, with a slight approach to gentleness of tone. " I passed the shop on my way here, and I stopped in and heard all about it. And I tell you what, Miss Rachel," and his tone gradually re sumed its wonted strength, " I m a comin to town frequent to look in on ye, to see what ye need, for no house can get along all times without a man. And whenever ye need me, just speak. Will ye? " He might have been threatening to take her life, if one judged merely by his tone and attitude, but Rachel Fuller had known John Peters too long to doubt his honest kindness now. " Thank thee, John, thank thee; we shall look to thee if we need a man s help. And if we can help thee, thee must let us know. Turn about is fair play, thee knows." " Well, I m ste ppin ," said he, " but ye ll see me again. Good bye," and he went out like a whirlwind. During the next two months he came frequently, sometimes stay ing only a few minutes, sometimes an hour. Jerusha went on with her work regardless of his presence, or else she made him lend assist ance in various ways, " to teach him," as she said, " how to do for himself on that heathen farm." "Jerusha," said Hilda, one day, "don t you like John Peters a good deal better than you used to?" "Humph!" was the answer, "when people do their work thor ough and keep busy, they ve no time to set chewin over likes and dis likes." " P)iit don t you think he is a real good man and a good farmer? " " Well, he ain t so terrible bad." " Don t you think lie would be a good husband to a capable, in dustrious woman?" 84 THE SILVER BUCKLE. CHAPTER XV. GRAY AND GOLD. " Oh, Angel of the East, one, one gold look Across the waters to this twilight nook, The far sad waters, Angel, to this nook!" Robert Broicninff. THE hearty satisfaction and the quiet humor felt by Hilda Sedge- ley at the courtship and marriage of John and Jerusha acted as a wholesome tonic for her depressed spirits. She had a real affection for the honest maid-servant, whose relation to the members of Rachel Fuller s family was much less formal than that existing between ser vants and the families of " world s " people. Hilda entered eagerly into the preparations for the wedding and the removal to Jerusha s new home, and even beguiled Jerusha into a little mirth. But after Jerusha s departure the household resumed its quiet ways, and Hilda fell back upon the train of thought that liad followed the death of Edward Love. Constantly mingled with the memories of her cousin Edward came thoughts of Richard Thorpe. The sweet friendship with Richard, founded on long and intimate acquaintance, seemed to have a more real and substantial good when contrasted with her present loneliness. True, she thought also of Lieutenant Raymond, for whom she had a strong liking; but he now seemed as the acquaintance of a week, while Richard was the friend of years. When she thought of the future, Richard was a figure in the scene; when she had pleasant dreams, Richard was by her side. Should she regard Lieutenant Ray mond s silver buckle as an omen to guide her future conduct? But again, should she not regard her cousin Edward s death, her subse quent illness, and the withdrawal of the British, as friendly interposi tions warning her against the undue influence of a superstitious fancy? She did not often receive letters from Richard, for he had not the pen of a ready writer, and, moreover, the post was not a sure mean? of communication. But every letter thai she did receive from him THE SILVER BUCKLE. 85 contained assurances of his unchanged feelings toward her. She sometimes heard indirectly from him through Josiah Lake, who wrote to Cassie epistles that were voluminous in comparison with those of Richard. Joe wrote long accounts of the war, and often spoke of Richard as " the best of fellows," at which praise Hilda s heart burned within her. Gradually she began to know herself. In the long, monotonous months that followed, she had full time to question her heart and to find its answer. This certainty brought her a kind of rest, but no real happiness. For Richard was far away in the South, in the midst of all the horrors and dangers of a war whose end was still far dis tant. Would he ever come again? Should she ever again know the sound of light laughter and happy voices? It seemed to her that she could scarcely remember the time when she had not felt the dull heartache that now possessed her. She thought of her former self a& one thinks of a little friend who died in childhood. So, waiting bravely, loving faithfully, hoping patiently, Hilda spent the years, while the war dragged on relentlessly. In September, 1781, excitement was again rife in Philadelphia, for the American troops and their allies were concentrating their forces against the British at Yorktown. The month that followed was a time of terrible suspense. " What ll we do if the British come to Philadelphia again? " asked Hannah Lake, with awestruck countenance. " 0, Hannah, don t speak of it," said Hilda, rushing out of the room. " It seems to me," said Rachel Fuller one day to Susan Walton, "that I have never felt so far away from England as I do this day, and I cannot explain the feeling. The graves of my loved ones there seem now to be in a strange country. This unlawful war has made between us a breach more formidable than the Atlantic Ocean." " Yes, Rachel," answered Susan, " we have seen sad changes. In spite of all the blessings and comforts I have enjoyed in this land, I have never been without a slight feeling of homesickness for the old country." "I have often thought, Susan, that after one is twenty-five years old, no decided change can be made in the mode of life without leav- 88 THE SILVER BUCKLE. A man turns the corner of the street, and Hilda listlessly wonders who he is, though she does not really care. But suddenly the stars seem to dance before her eyes, the light grows more brilliant, her pulse leaps more wildly, she feels hot, though standing in the chilly air. The man stops in front of her. "Richard Thorpe! she exclaims, and holds out both hands, trembling. " Hilda, dearest Hilda," he murmurs, clasping her hands and kiss ing them. She led him into the parlor, and, as they sat down side by side,, she said, " Has Joe Lake come, too? <k Yes, he is with (Jassie now. What an age it is, Hilda, since we sat here that April night when I gave you the blossoms! Do you re member? " " I remember it well, Richard. I was glad that the hard winter was over; I said that the time for the singing of birds had come, but a moment later Jo brought news of the battle, and that changed every thing. Perhaps the birds have sung since then, but they have not sung to me." " Xor to me either, Hilda. I have been hearing the song of bul lets and the cry of suffering. But the hope of winning you, Hilda, has buoyed me up even in moments of greatest struggle. Over and over again T have pictured myself coming to you for the answer to my question of that April night. And. sweetheart, T am doubly strengthened to plead my cause with you now, for fortune has given me this the silver buckle/ "Richard, Richard," she said, impulsively throwing her arm? around his neck. " you did not need this, for my answer has long been ready." " But it satisfies your heart to have this buckle, does it not? " he asked. " Yes: but how did you get it. Richard? " "\Vith his arm around her and her head upon his shoulder, he told her of the dying man who lay beside him on the field of Monmonth, and she told him the whole story of Lieutenant Raymond. " Richard." sbe said, in conclusion, " T cannot help grieving for him. It is always- sad to lose a friend, but to lose him in that way is terrible." TILE SILVER BUCKLE. 89 " Sweetheart, I should think it strange if you did not show sor row for his loss." " It was a long time, Richard/ she said, after a pause, " before I understood myself, but at last 1 knew that I could never accept the buckle from him." " Ihit you are glad that I have it to give to you, are you not, Hilda?" " Yes, Richard, 1 am glad and thankful. It seems like the hand of Providence lifted to bless us. Fortis h delis ," she said softly, looking at him lovingly. " Felix." he added, rapturously. A little later in the autumn Cassie and Joe, Hilda and Richard went to the farm of John Peters to gather nuts. They gathered also some beautiful leaves, which were carefully pressed, and were after ward used to trim Rachel Fuller s parlor for a happy wedding. And on a beautiful Indian summer afternoon, in the year 1783, the Rev erend William White, the beloved rector of Christ Church, united in marriage Hilda Sedgeley and Richard Thorpe. FINIS. A 000153342 1 i //A