Sally's soft tread was heard only by a great dog who rushed out as she crept toward the hay sheds at the Hinds farmlands.
She easily made friends with the dog, who trotted quietly away after being patted and quieted.
It was plain that some of the house servants were already astir, but Sally kept out of sight as best she could.
One thing she did that pleased her greatly.
She got into the barn and filled the front of the coat with hay. This she carried to Hotspur, who enjoyed the crisp breakfast greatly.
"I wish I could bring you water, dear," she said, "but how am I to get my own breakfast?"
For with all her shrewdness, the maiden hadgiven not one thought to food when she started out, and a healthy maid of fourteen could not long be unmindful of hunger after a four hours' ride.
In a few moments however, she was to be glad of having made friends with the great dog. For a colored boy put a pan with meat bones, cold biscuit, and a basin of water by the shed, for the dog's breakfast.
As the boy slouched away, up crept Sally, and snatched two of the biscuit, and oh, what luck! a good doughnut, long and twisted, was close against the biscuit. She snatched that too.
"Surely I may have part of the dog's food without stealing," she said.
Then she cast about in her mind how next to proceed. Time was precious.
Now it may well be supposed that during her long ride so bright a maid as Sally would have tried to think of some plan that might help her once she reached her journey's end. And she had not forgotten that all she hadheard and learned about the present condition of her Fairy Prince had come to her as she sat by a tree.
"Might not a tree help me again?" she asked. "Could I but make a sound, or give a sign, it surely would help me, if only the young Prince came near enough. I can think of no other way unless I hide about the house and watch my chance for a quick word."
Ah, but with others around, how long might it be ere the chance would come. And time was passing swiftly away.
A fine elm stood before the house, and Sally resolved to scramble into it and at least take a good look around. The branches grew closely, and fortunately came nearer the ground than was usual.
She watched some time before daring to climb, but at length she found a place where she could seat herself, and the great boughs made a very good screen.
Another precious hour went by; it was between five and six o'clock. Farm-handswere at work. Sally could see them in the distance.
All at once she caught her breath in the way natural to her when surprised or excited.
For there at the front door stood her Fairy Prince, but with how gloomy and clouded a face! And close beside him was a strong and stalwart man.
"His guard!" whispered Sally. "Shameful, oh, shameful!"
The two strolled out and down the path. Sally nearly choked as they paused close by the tree. In her hand she held a bit of bark, picked with a purpose.
The older man turned his head. Down fluttered a bit of bark close to young Lionel's feet. Down fluttered another. The young man looked up. Sally made a swift sign.
"I wonder which way is the wind," said Lionel; "the vane is just out of sight."
The man walked a few yards away toward a corner of the house.
"Don't look up," called Sally, in a loudwhisper, "but Hotspur is here. Down in the dell to the right. Run! he is only lightly tied. The others will be at Pamunkey turnpike at noon."
The man was already turning back, and Sally was surprised and, ah! how greatly disappointed to see her Fairy Prince go quietly with him to the porch.
Did he not hear her? Did not he believe her? The days were such as to make men crafty, quick to catch an idea, swift to use it.
Aha! as the front door, heavy and thick, was reached and both were stepping in, Lionel gave the man a sudden push, sending him head-long into the hall; then he slammed to the door, and rushed like mad to the dell sloping off to the right.
In a moment the great door opened and the attendant and another man ran out, but almost the next instant Sally, straining her ears, heard the rush and sweep of a fleet horse that seemed to scud like the wind, and—her Fairy Prince was free!
"There he goes! And I helped him!" gasped Sally, hugging her own young breast and quivering in every limb.
The men looked right and left and listened, half deceived by the sound. At last, far down the road, they saw horse and man, but going at a pace it were mere folly to strive to overtake.
"We cannot catch him, and if we could he would defend himself now," said the man who had guarded Lionel, in a voice of anger and concern. "Woe the day! What will Sir Percival say?"
"His orders were that not an instant was he to be out of our sight," said the other man. "One or the other of us was to be on the watch."
"And he was not out of my sight," said the first man. "I only left his side a moment before to look at the weathercock, and he stood alone just where I left him as I turned back. We came through the doorway together, then he pushed me fairly over and ran away. Woe the day! I shall lose both respect and reward."
"How in the name of Great Cæsar could he have gotten a message about the horse?" asked the second man. "I have seen no one around."
"Nor have I," was the reply. "Beshrew me, but I could half believe the Fairies or the witches have been about! It is a mystery indeed."
He added, gloomily:
"Now I must acquaint Sir Percival of what hath happened, and, by my faith, I had rather take a ducking or show a broken limb."
It seemed to Sally that the men would never be done looking about, peering here and there, but keeping near the house, as if bent on finding some one who had helped Lionel's escape. It was not until the middle of the morning that they went into the barn; then, with many a halt, she finally let herself down from the tree, but only to hide behind another.
Sally was thankful when at last she found herself in the road after creeping from one cover to another. Then, with a slouching step, she moved more rapidly away.
For a long time she kept steadily on, then, at a great field she was passing, an ox team, loaded with marshy grass, came toward the road.
"Might I cotch a ride?" she said to the man who was guiding the oxen.
"Tired, are ye?" called the man.
"Tired I'll be afore I gets to Homeview," said Sally.
Homeview was a plantation near Williamsburg.
"Get ye up then," said the man. "I goes far as Humphrey Three Corners, that's all."
By walking and begging many a mile's ride, and also by begging two or three cups of milk, Sally reached Parson Kendall's near supper time, as hungry and fagged a maiden as one would wish to see.
She managed to enter the porch and hang up the coat and hat without being seen by any of the parson's family. Then she started for the library, but met the parson in the hall.
"Whither away, maiden?" cried the parson, sternly.
"I would have speech with thee in the library," said Sally, rather faintly.
"And I would have speech withthee!" the parson replied.
Not a word spake good Parson Kendall while Sally told her story.
Goodwife Kendall knew that Sally had returned, but so discreet a tongue had she, that not even her sisters knew that the whereabouts of the maiden who had appeared neither at the breakfast nor the dinner table were unknown either to the parson or his wife.
There was silence as Maid Sally finished her strange, brave story.
Was her best friend, the kind parson, angry at what she had done? Would he blame her sharply, or cry shame on so bold a deed?
A queer note there was in his voice when he spoke at last.
"I am proud of thee, maid, proud of thee! Thou art fit to rank with the soldiers whowould put down injustice and oppression. But why aid the young son of Sir Percival Grandison, why he in particular, eh?"
For a moment it was Sally's turn to be silent. Then she said, with her steadfast eyes on the parson's face:
"I have told you, sir, what floated to my ears. It was the first case wherein I bethought me that my own courage might serve my country in a way, and serve one of her sons, too."
Parson Kendall was content with the reply.
"We worried over thee this morn," he said, "and have made quiet inquiries to-day, but all without letting any one know thou hadst really disappeared. Do not so try us again."
"I will not," said Maid Sally.
"Now get for thyself food and drink," said the parson. "I have sharp summons to attend upon Mistress Cory Ann Brace, who lieth ill at her house. I was about to set forth to visit her when thou appearedst. And after thy repast, thou hadst best go to thy bed at once. I will speak with Goodwife Kendall a moment concerningthy story. Long sleep wilt thou need after thy night's campaign."
Sally smiled at the parson's speech. Full well she knew that while an army kept the field it was in "campaign."
"Did I keep the field last night, sir?" she inquired.
"Verily I think thou hadst the field all to thyself, from set out to finish," smiled the parson. "I am proud of thee! But let us know the next time when thou goest on rescue."
"I will, sir," said Maid Sally.
When Sally, bright as a new sixpence, appeared at breakfast the next morning, Parson Kendall regarded her with much thoughtfulness. And when he said, soberly, "I would see thee again in the library after thy meal is finished," she wondered what he might have to say.
He spoke gently, but wasted no words as he began:
"Maid Sally Dukeen, it hath pleased God to take unto himself the woman, Mistress Cory Ann Brace, who departed this life at midnight just past.
"But there was that on her mind which it beseemed her must be told before she could die in peace. And she made confession that thyfather left thee suddenly when thou wert but six years of age, and being a stranger, and thinking better of Mistress Brace than I greatly fear she deserved, he left thee in her care, together with a considerable sum of money, which was to pay for board and proper schooling.
"But being tempted of the Spirit of Evil, Mistress Brace used the money as if it was her own. A large portion of it she had spent, but some yet remains. This, she also confessed with tears and with sighs, she intended to put at interest as soon as some of our present troubles were over.
"What thy treatment was with Mistress Brace we need not dwell upon."
"She was not cruel, sir," said Maid Sally, wishing in her tender young heart to speak kindly of the dead.
"Not cruel, perhaps, as to violent treatment, child," said the stern, just parson, "yet I hold it cruel, ah, very cruel, to have kept thee much as a serving-maid, and keeping back thy education as she did, and would have continued tohave done, had it not been for the good blood in thy veins that cried out for better things."
"Have I good blood in my veins, sir?" cried Sally, twisting her pointed fingers in an eager, nervous way.
"Aye, the best of blood, dear child, and the will of an iron-nerved forefather. I hurried out last night for that man of the law, Sir Gaspard Culpeper, that he might witness to what the poor misguided woman had to say, and wishing God's mercy for myself as well as for all others, I have it in my heart to admit that ignorance had much to do with the great mistakes of Mistress Brace and her dealings.
"Hast thou ever seen this name before, Maid Sally? Look well upon it, and try to remember."
Sally looked at the paper the parson handed her, and the rich blood spread over her face.
"Speak truth, child," said the parson.
"I did indeed see that name once, both on a cape and in a letter that lay in a little trunk at Mistress Brace's," said Sally, "and—and—"
"Speak out without fear," said Parson Kendall, as Sally groped for words; "much depends on my having a clear understanding of all thou canst tell."
Then Sally told of the soldier who had thrust his card into her bended arm.
"It was the same queer name," said Sally.
"Dost know what language it would belong to, young maid?" and the grave parson smiled.
"The soldier I think was French," said the maiden, a droop of disappointment in her voice. "I fear me the name must be French also."
"Spell it, and then pronounce it," said the parson.
And Sally spelled, then pronounced:
"'D-u-q-u-e-s-n-e, Doo-kane.'"
"You need feel nought but pride at bearing that ancient name!" cried Parson Kendall. "No more noble officer hath the French navy ever known than the fearless, distinguished commander who once bore it. A marquis, child, a French nobleman! A Protestant, who conqueredSpanish, Danes, and Dutch during his splendid career.
"Hast not thou felt the will of thine ancestor, stirring thee to make the most of thyself? Hast thou not felt within thee a craving for the best things in life? Hast not thou pushed thy way up to those better things?"
"Yes, oh, yes!" burst forth Maid Sally, with a great shuddering sob. "I felt it! I almost knew it! My good Fairy felt it must be so!"
"Your good Fairy?" The parson looked amazed.
"Yes," cried Sally, for to the winds went all fear of letting the kind parson know what was in her heart, and what had been one great comfort of her poor little life.
"Yes, my good Fairy, sir. I talked with another part of myself and found help in pretending a Fairy dwelt in my soul. My poorer self was one part of me, the good Fairy the other. And the good Fairy did hearten and comfort me."
"One was Sally Dukeen," and the parsonsmiled most pleasantly, "the other was Sara Doo-kane. Strange how the accent of but one letter can change a name. I fancy it was Mistress Brace's incorrect way of calling it.
"But there is more for you to know. Your mother was an English lady, also of excellent birth, but on the way to this country with your father, to seek a better fortune, she died.
"Now very early this morning I sought out the soldier, Officer Duquesne, of whom you have told me and of whom I have heard. And although I know him to be a very different man from your ancestor of nearly a hundred years ago, and his also, and fighting I hold on the wrong side, he yet told me some things I was pleased to know.
"The man who gave you his card, my dear maiden, was your father's own cousin, and I feel sure he once felt great love for your mother. He told me of having seen a young maid who was so much the image of a beloved friend of the past that he desired to know her name. And tears filled his eyes when I showed him asmall painted picture of your mother that had lain in Mistress Brace's little trunk. For she would have us find the trunk and see what was hiding inside."
"There!" again exclaimed Sally, "I have said to my Fairy, 'How know I but Mistress Cory Ann hath things that were my mother's and should belong to me?'"
"There was a cape of finest needlework," continued the parson, "probably the one you saw, also a letter of importance, as it told the name of your mother's family, and a few articles beside money, of value to you, found in the little trunk. Here is the picture of your poor mamma."
Sally gazed with curious eyes at the little painting that was so like her own face as seen in the mirror, that she exclaimed:
"It is like my own face!" and suddenly she kissed it, a quick, warm kiss.
"I wonder what made me do that?" she asked, with a feeling of confusion.
"I think it was your warm French blood," said Parson Kendall.
"And what was my mother's name?" asked Sally.
"Earlscourt. She was of the same house as Lady Gabrielle, wife of Sir Percival Grandison, although well removed. Officer Duquesne of the British army thought your mother lost money through some of her relatives, who have died, so nothing can be proved."
"Enough has been proved!" cried Maid Sally.
Parson Kendall smiled.
"There speaketh your good Fairy," he said; "enoughhasbeen proved. You are of noble blood on your father's side, and the Earlscourts hold themselves to be of the best, as no doubt they are. What better could'st thou wish?"
Sally was speechless.
She had not taken in the whole truth of the last fact until it was thus plainly set before her.
Of kin to her Fairy Prince!
Could it be true? Yet here sat Parson Kendall, who had heard the story from her father's own cousin, a man who knew root and branch all the truth as to her kindred and relations.
"I think I had better go away and be alone by myself," said Sally, her face crimson, a feverish light in her eyes.
"We will say nothing of this outside the house for the present," advised the parson. "Officer Duquesne is one of the king's men,—and by the way, we had but until lately a fort of that name,—and he quite likely will acquaint Lady Grandison with the fact that she hath a young kinswoman in the town. But, my dear damsel, she would, I fear, look but coldly just now on one whom she would regard as a little rebel."
"Then her son is a rebel, too," said Sally, with dimples plumping in.
"Yes, and hath been aided in helping the rebel army, by his young kinswoman, Sara Duquesne," laughed Parson Kendall with quiet glee.
"I must go away by myself awhile," again said Maid Sally.
"And take thy good Fairy with thee," said the parson. "But return from wherever thougoest in an hour, for Goodwife Kendall and myself go to Cloverlove plantation to dine, and we go by stage, which passes there and will not return until near evening.
"I have lessons for thee to learn, and would not have thee dwell too much on the knowledge that hath come to thee, and is indeed very pleasant."
"I think the world has turned topsyturvy," said the maiden, with the look of one who dreams.
"And Fairies are but bright fancies of very human creatures," said the parson, in a low, kind voice.
It would seem that the knowledge Maid Sally now carried under the burning gold of her thick tresses was making a woman of her.
Very gay and glad at heart was she, for, had not the dearest dream of her life come true? She was a high-born damsel, and—could it be true?—the blood of her Fairy Prince was also in her veins.
But instead of being filled with foolish pride because of these things, she said wisely to herself:
"Now must I study yet more, for I would not shame in any way the people who are my people although they know me not. Some day they may know me well."
And so the maiden plunged into her booksanew, and also grew skilled in embroidery, even copying the pattern on her mother's dainty cape, and copying it well too, on a skirt of fine India muslin that had lain in Mistress Brace's trunk.
A few weeks after the young Virginians had started for Boston there had come a hard battle, even the battle of Bunker Hill.
And Hotspur had borne his young master to the distant colony barely in time to take part in it, after first meeting his friends at the turnpike.
In July, Sir Percival Grandison received from his son an account of the hard contest. He told how all night he and his comrades, delicately nurtured young men all, with soft hands and lions' hearts, had worked with pick and shovel, and with the rank and file, in throwing up breastworks. And so quietly was the work done that neither a sailor in the near harbor, nor the British sentry but a little away, had heard a sound.
"Although not a great victory for us," Lionel wrote, "we yet showed what kind of men theBritish have to fight, and our untrained men put to flight soldiers of long experience and training. We feel sure of victory in the end."
One balmy night in August, Sally saw Mammy Leezer trundling up the road, her red and yellow rabbit's ears, or points of her bandanna turban, cocked high and important, her white cotton skirt stiff as starch could make it, and her pipe no doubt in a deep pocket.
Mammy was the only person at Ingleside who had known anything about Sally at Slipside Row. But it will be remembered she also knew something of her father, and always declared she "nebber b'long'd in dat Row, nohow."
Sally answered Mammy's cheerful greeting, and then asked, gaily:
"Going to war, Mammy?"
"Goin' to war?" cried Mammy, with a fearful rolling of eyes. "Now what you take me fo', honey? But I spect you heer'd de news. Dat Mars' Lion, he comin' home soon. Mars' Perc'val, he talkin' o' goin' to Inglan' 'fore long, and Mars' Lion, he hev to come back to Virginnyand look affer de plantation and we at de cabins."
Then Mammy lowered her voice, and asked, with a mysterious air:
"Hev you done heer'd 'bout dat Hotspur helpin' Mars' Lion get away to Bosting town?"
"How was that?" asked Sally, for indeed not a word of gossip had she heard about the affair.
Mammy went on:
"Ob course Mars' Perc'val won't hev a word said to him on de subjec', and I doan't b'leeve he know what to tink ob tings. But shor's yore born, honey, I b'leeve de folks up at de house tried in some way to keep Mars' Lion from goin' to Bosting with dose odder boys he done go with.
"And, honey,"—Mammy Leezer held up a dark finger to make more dreadful her solemn air,—"one night las' May, dat Hotspur, he done gone from his outside box, and needer hoof, head, or tail ob him lef'. And dar warn't nomancome for dat hoss! Bill, he wor awakeall night, and lil Jule, she hev a mis'ry in her lil stummick, so I'se up 'bout all night, and no one come round dat stable we knows dat night, yet, in de mornin', dat Hotspur, he clean gone."
Mammy put her hand, edgewise, side of her mouth, and whispered, loudly:
"Sperrits, honey! Sperrits!"
Sally laughed and shook her shining head.
"Oh, no, Mammy," she said, her voice full and bubbling, "no, no! spirits don't come with strong hands and feet and take a horse away. Bill had a nap, little Jule got easy, and you dozed, then some person led Hotspur away."
Mammy looked carefully around, then said, with a twinkle in her eye:
"Ennyway, I'se glad dat boy get away. Dis yere war won't help de Inglish any. De ole king needn't tink he can put his big foot on de people's neck, and dey not kick back.
"Let Mars' Perc'val and Mistis Gran'son go back to Inglan' ef dey wants to. Dey soon come totin' back 'gain. And Mars' Lion, ef heis a young man, can run de place all it want to be run while dese times is goin' on."
So he was coming back! her Fairy Prince!—
"I must learn yet more," said Maid Sally.
And so, while the dragon-fly buzzed in the hot summer sun, and the lazy breeze scarcely stirred the cobwebs strung from bush to bush, while the flaming poppies were seen through mists of heat, and the cattle stood knee-deep in the streams, Maid Sally studied, recited, sewed, picked over fruits, baked, and grew skilled both in pantry and in parlor.
Truly a little woman of the olden time.
Not often did the old-time parson freely praise any one. But Parson Kendall one day said to Sally:
"I deem it but just, Maid Sally Duquesne, to say that very nobly hast thou done with thy lessons. Many a fine lady might well be proud could she stand by thy side, equal with thee in learning."
And Sally could have hugged herself from very happiness.
Then came the cooler days of autumn. The cotton had burst its bolls, the sugar-cane given up its sweets, the tobacco was stored, the fruits preserved.
One fine day in November, Sally saw Hotspur go dashing by, her Fairy Prince holding the rein.
It was like a waft of new, sweet air thus to behold him. Too much a child of nature was Maid Sally to lose or cast aside the dearest fancy of her life as she grew older, and the Fairy Prince of poorer days was the Fairy Prince still in her deep young heart.
He was also her hero now. She had helped him do battle for his country and hers. He was her relation. What a secret to hug within her breast!
But now, hotter and hotter grew the news from all directions. Lord Dunmore, gone from Williamsburg, yet made mischief in other parts of Virginia.
And soon came reports of trouble from near Norfolk, south of Williamsburg.
Sir Percival Grandison, who yet lingered inhis Virginia home, no longer tried to keep his young son from fighting with the "rebels." There was in very truth something he kept very quiet about, in connection with the Boston affair.
And he was not surprised when, with young Spottswood, Norris, Byrd, and others, Lionel again mounted Hotspur and went clattering off toward Norfolk to see what trouble the British were making in that quarter.
One morning, when December was in its second week, Sally was in the wide kitchen plucking a goose, that she might learn how, when Parson Kendall came to the door, his wig somewhat awry, his face flushed with excitement, his manner hurried.
"Good Matilda," he said to his wife, "I would that a hamper of food might be quickly prepared, a roll of linen be made ready, and several flasks of your most strengthening tonics be got out. I go with our horse Rupert, and saddle-bags, a long day's journey and nearly a night's, to give such comfort as I can to certainof our men that lie wounded at Great Bridge, near Norfolk.
THE BATTLE AT GREAT BRIDGE.THE BATTLE AT GREAT BRIDGE.
"News hath been brought that on the seventh, a battle was fought, and great victory was given to the colonists. But young Lionel Grandison and Hugh Spottswood of our township are among the wounded, and help in caring for the injured is called for.
"Doctor Hancocke goes in his wagon with drugs and potions, and so loud a lament made Mammy Leezer, the old colored nurse at Ingleside, begging to go and care for her 'chile,'—for so she calleth young Lionel,—that Doctor Hancocke will take her along with his medicines and bandages.
"Sir Percival also hopes she will soon be able to return with the young man in charge. He scarcely dareth to go himself to the scene of conflict, for feeling is bitter against the Tories. Lady Gabrielle hath taken to her room with cries of anger and sorrow at the news, and as for Rosamond Earlscourt, she hath servants, smelling-bottles, hot drinks, and all she canmuster about the place attending on her, so loud is her grief.
"Beshrew me! but I would like to see were it only an ounce of common sense poured into her from some bottle or other!
"Now I go to get my camlet ready,"—a great cape like a cloak,—"and to roll up a blanket."
"Oh,please!"
Parson Kendall and his wife Matilda turned about to see Maid Sally standing with out-stretched hands, cheeks burning, eyes full of entreaty.
"Oh, please let me go! I will squeeze into Doctor Hancocke's wagon with Mammy Leezer, taking but little room. Very, oh, very sorely I have longed to do something that would help in these days. Let me wait on the wounded. I am strong and full of health, and almost a woman grown. I can twist a bandage, make a posset, mix a medicine, feed the sick. I prithee, let me go!"
The parson looked puzzled, Goodwife Kendall looked surprised.
"Dear maid," she said, "it is no easy thing to tend on wounded men. One must be strong of nerve and firm of hand to deal with the injured."
"Have I asked for smelling-salts or shown weakness in any way when bad news came?" asked Sally. "Try me, but try me! I think I could go through fire or through flood to help our men. Pray let me go!"
But never a word said Maid Sally about its being her kinsman that lay among the wounded.
And Parson Kendall said:
"I like well thy high spirit, maiden, and as a woman goeth in our company,"—he turned toward his wife,—"what think you, good Matilda, of letting the wench come with us?"
"I think," said Goodwife Kendall, "that since she so much desireth it, we might let her go."
While she was making ready, Sally kept saying:
"I am coming, Fairy Prince, I am coming!"
And a sweet bird of hope was singing in her ears that all would yet be well with the brave Dream lad of her girlish years.
"I will serve the others too," she said, "for in good faith I love my country well."
At Great Bridge all was bustle and confusion. But the wounded had been carried into a long, low building, really a tobacco warehouse, now turned into hospital barracks.
Doctor Hancocke, who had knowledge of diseases and wounds as well as of drugs and medicines, made himself both useful and welcome. He soon found Lionel among the badly wounded,his hurt having come through a spent ball that hurled the young man against a gun-carriage with such force that his back was injured and one shoulder put out of joint. Then, as fever had set in, the young man was in a bad way.
Sally could well have both laughed and cried at Mammy Leezer when they told her Lionel's case was thought to be serious.
She put on her most dragoon-like air, and seemed defying the whole army to tell her that again.
"Who say dat dat boy am hurt powerful bad?" she sniffed. "Ain't they done been tole his ole Mammy am come? What's goin' to be de matter with my Mars' Lion once I gets to nussin' 'im? They better stop cackling, de whole caboodle ob dem, and leave my Mars' Lion 'lone with me!"
They were only too glad to have the capable old woman around. And in truth, so jealous was Mammy Leezer of her charge that she would allow no one to assist her day or night except Sally, even attending to the woundedshoulder herself, which Doctor Hancocke felt satisfied she was treating with skill.
Sally was glad to see in how many ways she could make herself useful. She showed fine nerve and fettle, even helping to wind the bandages around a wound, and being left in charge of certain sick ones while older nurses attended to those who were more helpless.
For a few days she was allowed to sit by her Fairy Prince only while Mammy Leezer made his gruel and steeped certain herbs she had brought with her. Then Mammy trusted her to watch him while she stole away about ten minutes at a time to indulge in a comforting little smoke.
Lionel was said to be doing well, although he lay with closed eyes and did not seem to know any one. His father rode to Great Bridge on Lord Rollin, but did not long remain. He was not welcome in camp; there was nothing he could do, so he went away telling Mammy Leezer he should come soon again.
It was Sally's best hour of the day whenMammy Leezer went to the cook-room to prepare gruel and she was left alone with her Fairy Prince.
One rosy afternoon in late December, she bent over him and gently pushed a lock back from his forehead. It would not stay, and for a moment she held the fair lock back.
To her surprise she all at once looked into the deep blue eyes, which were open and looking directly into her own.
"Who is it?" he whispered.
Sally flushed, dimpled, smiled; but for an instant could not turn her eyes away.
"Who is it?" asked a weak voice.
"A Fairy," she said, in a spirit of mischief.
"Who is it?" came in a little stronger tone.
Just then Mammy came back, and the question reached her quick ear.
"I think he has come to himself," said Sally, as she made way for the delighted old woman.
"Who is it?" Lionel kept repeating, "who is it? What is the Fairy's name?"
"Now, honey, what you talkin' 'bout?" saidMammy, comfortably stirring the gruel she held. "Jus' you keep quiet and drink this, and your ole Mammy have you hoppin' about as spry as a skeeter in de twinklin' ob an eye."
"No, no, Mammy," cried the young man, in a weak voice, but masterful way, "who was it bent over me? I must know. They always thought me wandering in mind after my fall in the pine woods. I saw a Fairy face bending over me, and a fair creature gave me water. I saw the Fairy again, just a glimpse, and once more, just now. I'll take neither bite nor sup till I see her again!"
Sally had disappeared. She grew frightened at thought of having the Fairy Prince try to find her out, and off she ran as Mammy went up to the cot.
She was quietly feeding a man whose right arm was in a sling, when Mammy Leezer's plump, rolling figure came toward her.
"Yo'll done hev to come and see Mars' Lion," said Mammy, "he's comin' 'roun' all right shor', for he's pert as a two-year-ole rooster!He won't take de grool from his ole Mammy, nor anyting, till he see de Fairy he done gone crazy 'bout. You better get some un else to feed dat man, and tote ober to Mars' Lion."
The feeding was really through with, and Sally, trembling and flushing, went back to the side of her Fairy Prince.
He held out his hand, and Sally put hers into it.
"Let me look at you," he said.
Sally went nearer.
"Yes, it is the very face! The one that bent over me in the woods. Tell me," he said, "did you not give me water when I lay stunned one day near Lover's Lane?"
"Yes," said Sally.
"And tell me," he asked again, his face getting flushed and his voice rising, "have I not seen your face since, just for an instant? But the eyes, the dimples, the mouth are the same. When was it?"
He was getting wrought up, and Mammy grew anxious.
"Do fo' de goodness sake tell 'im ebberyting you know, and hab done with it!" she said, in a low tone, twitching Sally's sleeve. "It won't do to cross 'im nohow; he'll be down with de fever jinks, first ting we know."
Sally bent over him, her dark eyes meeting his blue ones.
"They told of your being a prisoner," she said, simply, "and I thought it a shame. I wanted to help the country, so I brought you Hotspur. You saw me hiding in a tree. Now please let me go," and she tried to draw away her hand.
But the Fairy Prince took the hand in both his own and softly kissed it.
His face paled, and he calmed down as he said:
"Promise me you will not go away."
"I promise not to go away until I must," said Maid Sally.
Then Mammy fed her "babby," and gave him a soothing dose of steeped skullcap, which drowsy herb soon had him in a quiet sleep.
Sally went about in a Fairy-like dream.
The back of her right hand seemed to have been touched with a golden wand where the Fairy Prince had kissed it.
Yet she was puzzling over the question how best to answer when her Prince would seek to know more about her, as he surely would.
Tell her own story she never could, at least not the first part of it. At length she murmured:
"Oh, my good Fairy, please tell me once more what had I better do?"
And the Fairy answered:
"Why not tell Mammy Leezer the truth about the pine woods, and let her repeat it? She loves the Fairy Prince with all her heart, and would dress up the story in rosiest colors.
"What if you were a poor little girl then, or thought to be? Mammy knew you had a fine father, and will say so. And what if the Fairy Prince finds out that twice you were in a tree when he needed help? Fairies are supposed to lurk in forests and midst trees and flowers.
"Mammy can begin the story, you must finish it. Tell him of your love for Ingleside, but not of the rocky seat. It would not be maidenly or needful. Tell him your name, and hide not the fact of his relationship."
Maid Sally took her good Fairy's advice, and at the story Mammy Leezer cried, "Sho' now!" and "Bress yo' dear lil heart!" and "Lorr de massy sakes alive!" until Sally knew how her music-full voice and flowery speech would set forth all that she would pour into the ears of the listening Prince.
Then for several days, the young Lionel, who never tired of the whole pleasing story, was set and determined to have Maid Sally near him every moment that he could.
But good Parson Kendall had talked and prayed with hurt and troubled men, while Doctor Hancocke had given medicines and good advice, and nursing dames of kind hearts and willing hands had waited on the sick.
Now a fortnight had slipped away since the battle of Great Bridge, the wounded men weredoing well, a number had been taken to their homes, and Parson Kendall and Doctor Hancocke were about to return homeward.
The Fairy Prince, still too weak for removal, rebelled at thought of missing the sweet face of his dear Fairy Girl.
But Parson Kendall was firm as a rock.
In vain Mammy Leezer said, with rolling eyes and fearful air:
"I dunno what de consekens will be, ef dat lil missy go 'way!"
The good parson believed that Sally had gone forth in time of need, and now that she was no longer really needed, she should return to other duties. And Sally knew that he was right.
So, very early one morning, Sally threw her Fairy Prince a kiss when he was sleeping and nobody saw, for Mammy had advised that he should know nought of her going until she must tell him she had gone, and long after midnight she was back with Goodwife Kendall, who received her with a warm embrace, so truly glad was she to have the maiden back again.
It was a week later that Parson Kendall said to Sally, as he again met her in the hall:
"My dear young damsel, I have but just parted from Sir Percival Grandison, who hath been here to make inquiries concerning thyself.
"He declareth, doth Sir Percival, that you have bewitched his son, and that nought will do but thou must repair to Ingleside and sit beside him. The young man hath been brought by easy stages to his home, but wearies all the time for his 'Fairy Girl.'
"Beshrew me, but I fear thou mayest be in very truth a kind of witch!"
The parson's mouth twitched with a smile he tried to keep back. Then he added:
"I have laid thy whole story before Sir Percival, part of which he already knew, and right pleased hath he been to find that the young maid who has so drawn the fancy of his son is of good mind, a lady born, and of kinship with his wife, the Lady Gabrielle.
"So prepare thyself, Maid Sara Duquesne,and in an hour the coach will come to bear thee to Ingleside."
And to fair Ingleside went Maid Sally.
The doors opened wide to receive her. For the Lady Gabrielle Grandison said that no lack of welcome should be shown one of her own name and family.
The Lady Rosamond Earlscourt received her but coldly, but Lucretia was kind and gentle in her greeting.
Never before that she could remember had Sally entered so grand a room as the one in which sat the Fairy Prince well wrapped about with gaily flowered comforters, the wide arm-chair drawn up before a great blazing fire.
Sir Percival Grandison arose from a seat near his son as Sally came forward, nor did he longer wonder that the warm-hearted Southern lad, who was almost a man, had lost his heart to the lovely, blushing maiden.
Goodwife Kendall knew what she was doing in arraying Maid Sally in a skirt of crimsonbombazine, an overdress of rich silk, and a crimson velvet bodice laced over quillings of white muslin, when she went forth to meet her relatives.
Like a ripe, tropical flower looked the maid as she bowed before Sir Percival.
The Fairy Prince again took her hand in both of his and kissed it.
And while the struggle went on between king's men and colonists, fair Maid Sally became a frequent guest at Ingleside.