"We are in the saddle," said the lieutenant, "and, with your permission,
I will lead on; as you are so well mounted, you can overtake us at
your leisure."
"Yes, yes, my good fellow; march," cried Dunwoodie, gladly seizing an
excuse to linger. "I will reach you at the first halt."
The subaltern retired to execute these orders; he was followed by Mr.
Wharton and the divine.
"Now, Peyton," said Frances, "it is indeed a brother that you seek; I am
sure I need not caution you in his behalf, should you unfortunately
find him."
"Say fortunately," cried the youth, "for I am determined he shall yet
dance at my wedding. Would that I could win him to our cause. It is the
cause of his country; and I could fight with more pleasure, Frances,
with your brother by my side."
"Oh! mention it not! You awaken terrible reflections."
"I will not mention it," returned her husband; "but I must now leave
you. But the sooner I go, Frances, the sooner I shall return."
The noise of a horseman was heard approaching the house, and Dunwoodie
was yet taking leave of his bride and her aunt, when an officer was
shown into the room by his own man.
The gentleman wore the dress of an aid-de-camp, and the major at once
knew him to be one of the military family of Washington.
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