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But she had not calculated upon the audacity of the man; and as she
turned to fly she was caught by his strong arm, and pinioned to his
side. She struggled, honestly I think, and perhaps more frightened
at her own feelings than at his strength; but it is to be recorded
that he kissed her in a moment of comparative yielding, and then,
frightened himself, released her quickly, whereat she fled to her
room, and threw herself panting and troubled upon her bed. For an
hour or two she lay there, with flushed cheeks and conflicting
thoughts. "He must never kiss me again," she said softly to
herself, "unless"--but the interrupting thought said, "I shall die
if he kiss me not again; and I never can kiss another." And then
she was roused by a footstep upon the stair, which in that brief
time she had learned to know and look for, and a knock at the door.
She opened it to Major Van Zandt, white and so colorless as to
bring out once more the faint red line made by her riding-whip two
days before, as if it had risen again in accusation. The blood
dropped out of her cheeks as she gazed at him in silence.
"An escort of dragoons," said Major Van Zandt slowly, and with
military precision, "has just arrived, bringing with them one Capt.
Allan Brewster, of the Connecticut Contingent, on his way to
Morristown to be tried for mutiny and treason. A private note from
Col. Hamilton instructs me to allow him to have a private audience
with you--if YOU so wish it."
With a woman's swift and too often hopeless intuition, Thankful
knew that this was not the sole contents of the letter, and that
her relations with Capt. Brewster were known to the man before her.
But she drew herself up a little proudly, and, turning her truthful
eyes upon the major, said, "I DO so wish it."
"It shall be done as you desire, Mistress Blossom," returned the
officer with cold politeness, as he turned upon his heel.
"One moment, Major Van Zandt," said Thankful swiftly.
The major turned quickly; but Thankful's eyes were gazing
thoughtfully forward, and scarcely glanced at him. "I would
prefer," she said timidly and hesitatingly, "that this interview
should not take place under the roof where--where--where--my father
lives. Half-way down the meadow there is a barn, and before it a
broken part of the wall, fronting on a sycamore-tree. HE will know
where it is. Tell him I will see him there in half an hour."
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