A Song of a Single Note: A Love Story

    Neil.

Then an unconquerable desire to see Agnes, or at least to do something for her, took entire possession of him; and he laid aside his business, and went as rapidly as possible to the Bradley house. But Agnes would not see him. She asked to be left alone, and Neil understood her need of solitude, and respected it. In Maiden Lane he met Lord Medway, who said, "I have been at your office seeking you, Mr. Semple. Young Bradley is to be put outside the city at two o'clock to-day."

"He is pardoned then, on what conditions?"

"He will be shot on sight if he comes within five miles of New York; and I fear he will not have a pleasant escort to the barricade."

"You mean that he will be drummed out by the military and assaulted by the mob?"

"Yes, the court said, as a vagabond and spy and common rogue against His Majesty's government and interests."

"Oh! I suppose the court is right; there is nothing to be done."

"His father has sent a number of men with some message to all the respectable burghers he can influence; and I think Bradley can influence a great many, either through their fear of him, or their respect for him."

"What does he propose to do? He can not prevent this public demonstration, and he ought not to try to do so. His son has got off miraculously well. It is his place to submit and be grateful."

"He tells me the last man drummed out of town was nearly killed by the missiles thrown at him, and did lose the sight of one eye. He proposes to prevent the mob's playfulness, if he can."

"But how?"

"He has asked a number of the tradesmen and merchants in the city to send their apprentices and clerks, and thus, by influence and example, keep the unruly element in check. No one can prevent their presence. In fact, good citizens are expected to countenance the rogue's punishment. I may show myself at some point of the route," he added, with a laugh; "I have a little friend who may ask me about it," and he looked curiously at Neil, wondering if Maria had told him how the miracle had been performed which saved Harry's life.

But Neil made no sign, and Medway continued: "I wish you would dine with me this evening, Mr. Semple. I have something of importance to tell you. I dine at five, shall we say at The King's Arms. Afterward I will walk home with you, if I may."

"I will join you at five o'clock. What time does the young man begin his march, and from what point?"

"From Whitehall Slip to Dock Street, Hanover Square, Queen Street, Crown Street, William Street, King George Street to the Boston Road, and so to the eastern gate of the barrier. I rather think the companions of the journey will be few in number ere they reach the barrier. They start about two o'clock I believe. You will not forget dinner at five?"

Then the young men parted and Neil went to his office to consider his movements. Events had happened with a celerity that made him nervous and uncertain. He was used to method and plenty of time. Hurry, under any circumstances, destroyed his balance. Between his father and mother, Agnes, Maria, John Bradley and his son, Jacob Cohen and Lord Medway, he felt as if in a whirlwind. He wanted an hour of solitude in which to collect himself. But his office, that usually quiet, methodical place, was this day full of unrest. His partner was fuming at Harry Bradley's release, and wondering "what on earth was the use of the law, or the necessity for lawyers to interpret it?"

"There is now no necessity for either law or lawyers," answered Neil; "we may pack our books and lock our door."

"Neil, I have been thinking how I could manage to get two hundred for you."

"It is not necessary. I am sorry I spoke to you on the subject."

"I hope you have reconsidered the question of resignation."

"I sent in my resignation this morning."

"Of course the commissioners will include me with you."

"Not necessarily."

"Yes, necessarily; and I think you have been very selfish and unkind."

"My honor."

"My wife and children! They are of as much account as your honor."

Then Neil rose and went out again; there seemed no peace anywhere, he had scarcely reached the street when he heard in the distance the mocking strains of the drums and the fifes. They sounded so intolerable that he fled to his home to escape their cruel clamor. His mother saw his approach and was at the door to meet him. Her face looked strangely grey and thin, but it had something too of its old spirit and cheerfulness as she said:

"Neil, my dear lad, your letter set our old hearts singing. How did you manage it? Who helped you?"

"God and Jacob Cohen helped me," he answered. "The Jew has bought my land in Mill Street, and the strange thing is that he bought it out of respect and sympathy for my father. I am as sure of that as I am that Jacob Cohen is the only Christian in New York who remembered us for past kindness or cared for us in present trouble. I want to rest an hour, mother; I have an appointment with Lord Medway at five o'clock, and I feel like a leaf that has been blown hither and thither by the wind for two days. You might tell Maria that Agnes Bradley's brother will be outside of New York, a free man, in an hour."

"I am glad he is out o' our life, anyway. Much sorrow and loss he has brought us, and you will see that Maria's good name will be none the better for being mixed up with the affair."

"That is Macpherson's fault. For her sake, and for your sake, he might have held his tongue. I will not forgive him."

"His duty, Neil – "

"Nonsense! He could have given the information without bringing in Maria's name. He was mad with wounded vanity, it was a miserable, cowardly bit of revenge."

"I don't think he is a coward."

"He is; any man is a coward who takes his spite out on a woman, and you have been so kind, so motherly to him. He is a disgrace to the tartan: but I want an hour's rest, and tell father to be perfectly easy about the money. I shall have it in the morning. It rests on Cohen's word; I know no better human security."

"Are you not hungry?"

"I had dinner with the Cohens, a simple, excellent meal."

"The world is tapsalterie; I wonder at nothing that happens. Did you see the young man? I mean Bradley's son?"

"Not I. I did not want to see him. I heard the drums and got out of sight and hearing as quickly as possible. I believe his father has managed the affair very wisely; I should not wonder if the rogue's march turns out more of a triumph than an ignominy."

In a measure Neil's judgment proved to be correct. Respectable young men, charged to discountenance riotous abuse, began to join the procession at its outset, and this element was continually augmented. As they passed Bradley's shop, Bradley himself stepped out of it and walking at the head of the line, took his place at Harry's right hand. No one interfered. The drummers and fifers in front did not see him, and the stupid Waldeckers, ignorant of English and of everything but the routine of their regiment, took him as a part of the event. He was dressed in black cloth, with a white lawn band around his neck, and if they speculated about him at all, they thought he was a clergyman, and concluded the prisoner was to be hung at the barrier.

But Harry turned to his father a face full of love and gratitude. The youth's self-control was complete, for his disdain of the whole proceeding was both breastplate and weapon to him. He was bare-headed and with the wind in his hair and the sunlight in his eyes he went swinging onward to the song of victory he heard in his own heart. By the side of his father's massive contour and stern countenance, Harry looked like some young Michael, bright-faced and fearless.

Now and then a taunt was hurled at the lad, and occasionally a jibe far more tangible, but of neither missile did he show the least consciousness. The presence of his father touched the rudest heart. He removed his hat when he saw his son's uncovered head, and his grey hairs evoked far more pity than contempt. When they passed through the fashionable residence streets, the sympathy was even remarkable; windows were thrown up, handkerchiefs fluttered, and now and then a shrill little "bravo!" made Harry look up and catch the influences of pity and admiration that women, young and lovely, and women, old and wayworn, rained down on him. As Medway predicted, the crowd melted away long before the barrier was reached, for the mood of mischief was not in it. The fifes screamed and the drums beat, but could not summon the devilish spirit of mob violence, and Harry Bradley's tramp to the Rogue's March was a much more quiet and orderly affair than the Police Court intended it to be.

At the barrier the gate was flung open, and, in the midst of a fanfaronade of discordant sounds and scornful shouts Harry was hustled outside. But his father had found opportunity to give him gold and to tell him a negro was waiting with a swift horse behind the gates; and just at the last moment, amid the scoffing and jeering of the soldiers, he put his arms about his son's neck and kissed and blessed him. He had drunk the shameful cup to the dregs with the lad, and he turned to the little gathering a face that awed them. As one man they moved aside to let him pass, and for a few moments watched him, as, with a mighty stride he took the road homeward. For he looked beyond his nature large and commanding, and he walked as if moved by some interior force that was beyond his control. Men gazed at him with awe and pity, but no one ventured to speak to him.

As he approached his home the inner momentum that had carried him without let or hinderance at a marvelous speed seemed to fail; he faltered, looked round wearily, and then stumbled forward, as if he had charged his spirit for the last mile of life. When he reached his gate he could not open it, and Agnes ran out to help him; speech was impossible, but with a pitiful glance he let her lead him into the house. Leaning on her, he stumbled forward until he reached the sofa, then, with a great cry he fell backward.

Fortunately, Neil Semple at that moment entered the house, and he was instantly at Bradley's side, rendering, with Agnes, the help at once necessary, and soothing the afflicted man with words of such sympathy and affection as few mortals had ever heard pass the lips of Neil Semple. "Mr. Bradley," he entreated, "do not fail yourself at this hour! We are all so sorry for you – all ready to weep with you – think of Agnes – are you suffering? – Shall I go for a physician? What is the matter? Speak to me, Mr. Bradley."

"Sir," he answered, stretching out his trembling arms, "sir, I can neither see nor hear."

CHAPTER IX.

THE TURN OF THE TIDE

Every misfortune has its horizon, but as yet Maria was not able to lift up her eyes and see any comfort coming from afar. It seemed to her that all the joy and glory of living was over. It was not only that Harry was taken out of her schemes of happiness for the future; the present, also, was denuded of every hope and clouded by very real annoyances. She felt bitterly the publicity given to her name, and she knew that this publicity would supply those who disliked her with continual opportunities for her humiliation.

"I shall have to stop at home," she thought; "and grandmother is sick and grandfather fretful, and Neil's whole care is given to Agnes Bradley. I think he might consider me a little; but nobody does; I am only Maria. Yet my life is ruined, quite ruined;" and the unhappy child wept over herself and wondered how she was to live through the long, long years before her.