A Song of a Single Note: A Love Story

"I say, ask Smith. I have no doubt he can read the Babylonish for you – if he will."

"You alarm me. Am I surrounded by enemies?"

"I think you have many round you. I have warned you often. My advice to you at this time is to pardon young Bradley."

"Why are you taking such an interest in young Bradley?"

"I have no secrets from you, he is my rival."

"Preposterous! How could he rival you in anything?"

"Yet he is my rival in the affections of Maria Semple."

"Then let him hang! He will be out of your way."

"No, he would be forever in my way. She would idolize him, make him a hero and a saint, and worship him in some secret shrine of memory as long as she lives. I am going to marry her, and I want no secret shrines. He is a very good-looking, ordinary young man; only the circumstances of the time lifted him out of the average and the commonplace. Let him go scot free that he may find his level which is far below the horizon of my peerless Maria."

"I don't think I can let him go 'scot free,' Ernest. I should offend many if I did, and it would be made a precedent; suppose I imprison him during the continuance of the war!"

"That is too romantic. Maria would haunt the prison and contrive some way of communication. He would still be her hero and her lover."

"And you will marry this infatuated girl?"

"Yes, a thousand times, yes! Her love for that boy is mere sentiment. I will teach her what love really means. She has promised to marry me – if I save Harry Bradley's life."

"I never saw you taken so with any woman before."

"I never cared for a woman before. The moment I saw Maria Semple it was different. I knew that she belonged to me. Henry, you are my best friend, give me my wife; no one but you can do so."

"Ernest! Ernest! You ask a great thing."

"Not too great for you to grant. You have the will and you have the power. Are you not going to make me happy, Henry?"

"Privately, it would be a delight to humor you, Ernest; but officially, what am I to say to Matthews, DuBois and others."

"Tell them, that as a matter of military policy, you wish the prisoner released. Why should you make explanations to them? Oh, they are such courtiers, they will smile and do all you wish. You are above their rascally court; reverse their decision in this affair and show them your power. Believe me, it will be, politically, a wise step."

There was silence for a few moments, and then Clinton said: "I am sorry for the Semples. I like them both, and there is something about the saddler that sets him above other men. But it would not be right to let this young spy – for he is a spy – off, without some punishment."

"I think that is right."

"He must be told that he will be shot on sight if he enters New York again."

"He will deserve it."

"And I will have him drummed out of the city as a rogue and a suspect. We will make no hero of him – quite the contrary."

"I oppose nothing of that kind. I ask for his life and his freedom, because he stands between Maria Semple and myself. If I wanted any other reason, because I thoroughly respect his father, and am on excellent terms with his sister, who has been very hospitable to me and who is a remarkable girl. It has troubled me to-day to remember her lonely sorrow and anxiety."

"You have given me three good reasons for granting your request, and have omitted the strongest of all, Ernest."

"What is that, Henry?"

"That I love you."

"And I love you. You have always been like a big brother to me; always petted me and humored my desires."

"Well, then, I will see Matthews and DuBois in the morning."

"Send for them here to-night. If their court is a Military Police Court, you are Commander-in-Chief."

"Right! I will send for them. It is only about nine o'clock."

"And you will insist that the prisoner be given his life and freedom – nothing less?"

"I give you my word for it. But I will have him punished as I said. He must be prevented from coming to New York again. This kind of thing can not happen twice."

"I know. If words could thank you, Henry, I would say them."

"Nonsense, Ernest; what are words between us? We know each other's heart;" then he laid his arm across his friend's shoulder and their hands clasped; there was no need of words.

Very early in the morning Maria and Agnes received the good tidings. Maria was asleep when Medway's letter, with a basket of hot-house fruit was brought to her. Agnes was making her father's coffee, and they both looked at the unexpected letter with a fearful anticipation. But as soon as Agnes glanced at it, she perceived that it brought good news, and she gave it to her father. She could not speak, and for a few minutes Bradley was equally silent. Not that they were ungrateful, oh, no! They were only inarticulate. They had a gratitude so deep and holy that they had no words with which to express it; and when the happy father found speech, it was weak and tremulous as that of a man in the last extremity. "I was brought low, and He helped me!" That was all, but he stood up, steadying himself by his chair, and uttered the verse with a reverence and holy joy that no language can describe.

In a little while he began to talk to his daughter. "I knew God would not fail me," he said. "Yesterday afternoon I did all I could, and then I left the rest with Him. I saw General Clinton and said a few words which he could not gainsay. I saw Smith, and told him plainly if Harry died, he should translate that cypher message to the Commander-in-Chief. I saw Powell, and many others, whom I hold at my mercy, and they know that now, if they never knew it before. Andrews left New York an hour after I saw him; he is a fearful creature and he believed I would speak, though Harry had been silent; well, I must see the boy as soon as possible, there is certain to be some difficulty that only gold can overcome. I hope they will not imprison him."

"Lord Medway says, he will be set free."

"Thank God!"

He rose with the words and Agnes brought him his top-coat. Then, as they stood face to face, she was shocked at the ravage thirty hours of travail in the shadow of death had made on him. "Father," she said, "oh, father, forgive me! I did wrong to deceive you! I did wrong!"

"Yes, my girl, you did wrong; and nothing right can come from wrong; but Agnes, I have been worse than you. I, also, have been living a deceitful life, thinking that the end justified the means. I set you the example. Your fault is my fault. We have both been trying to do the right thing in our own way. We have been patriots, as Nicodemus was a Christian – by night. That is wrong. We must do right first hand, not second hand. From this hour that kind of thing will be sinning with our eyes open; it will be looking God's Commandments in the face, and then breaking them. Do you understand, Agnes?"

Then he went away, and Agnes tried to turn to her household duties. She wondered if Maria would come and see her or if she ought to go to Maria, and while she was debating the question Neil called. He was much depressed. The good news about Harry only affected him through Agnes, and he was very anxious about his father, who was in a high fever and was constantly talking of his fine and his inability to pay it. "Maybe I'll hae to go to prison for the debt," was his constant cry, and Neil felt that his father's fine must be satisfied, no matter at what cost. So it was a troubled little visit; the day before each was so uncertain, so full of probabilities which the slightest momentum might divert to either joy or sorrow. They could not feel that their congratulations were full ripe; something might yet happen to destroy their hopes.

Neil went first to his office. He found Mr. Curtis preparing for the court, and as yet unaware of the decision in Harry's case; "but it is a great piece of good luck for the young scamp," he said, when Neil told him, "for he's a spy, if ever there was one. I have no doubt he deserves death, fifty times over."

"I have no doubt there are fifty men in New York who deserve it more than he does – men of power and prominence."

"I would keep such observations to myself, Neil. Your father is far too outspoken and he is paying for it now."

"I hope my father will never be less outspoken."

"Well, as I say, he has to pay for his opinions. He has two hundred pounds to pay, but then he had his two hundred pounds worth of fault-finding."

"What do you mean, Curtis?"

"Don't you remember how imprudently he spoke about Mr. Hulen's imprisonment?"