As he
halted in astonishment, his joy dying at her look, she whispered
hoarsely:
"You! You, of all men? And to-night, of all nights!"
'Twas the night of our setting forth upon her great design of seizing
his commander-in-chief.
CHAPTER XII.
_Their Interview._
Philip took note, at the time, rather of her look than of her words.
"Why, dear," said he, "don't be frightened. Tis I, Philip--'tis not my
ghost."
"Yes, 'tis you--I know that well enough."
"Then--" he began, and stepped toward her.
But she retreated with such a movement that he stopped again.
"What's the matter?" he questioned. "Why do you look so?--This is
scarce the welcome I had imagined."
"Why are you here?" she asked, in a low voice, regarding him steadily.
"How did you come? What does it mean?"
"It means I love you so much, I could stay no longer from seeing you.
I came by horse, boat, and foot. I passed the British sentries."
"You risked your life, then?"
"Oh, of course. If they caught me inside their lines, they would hang
me as a spy. But--"
She could not but be touched at this. "Poor Philip!" she murmured,
with a tremor in her voice.
"Not poor," said he, "now that I am with you--if you would not draw
back, and look so. What is wrong? Am I--unwelcome?"
She saw that, to be true to her design, to her elaborate plan for the
future, she must not soften toward him--for his reappearance, with the
old-time boyish look and manner, the fond expression now wistful and
alarmed, the tender eyes now startled and affrighted, revived much
that had been dormant in her heart, and made Captain Falconer seem a
very far-off and casual person.
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