My report but confirmed rumors of the approach of Cornwallis which had already reached Governor Jefferson, and I found him wide awake to Virginia's danger, against which he was taking every precaution his exhausted resources allowed. He received me with flattering remembrance of our former meeting, and an unaffected cordiality. Still more, he pleased me by the letter of introduction he gave me to General Lafayette, together with certain dispatches in which he spoke of me in terms of personal friendship. Among the dispatches was my special commission to raise reËnforcements in the valley, with which I was to join Lafayette's command as promptly as possible.

This was my first meeting with the gallant and elegant Frenchman, under whom I was to serve during the remainder of our struggle. Morgan, Clark, Greene, and Lafayette were the four great leaders whom I followed during my eight years of military life. They were as different as four great souled men of war-like genius could well be—though between Morgan and Clark there was the kinship of spirits cast in primitive heroic mold, a like resemblance to Achilles, Priam, Alexander and other heroes of an earlier time—yet each of the four I could honor and love sincerely, serving him with exulting sense of privilege.

For this last emergency, recruiting was not needful. I did not find it necessary, indeed, to cross the mountain, for at its foot I met the grim militiamen of the valley, swarming to meet Tarleton. I had only to form them into a company, and march them to join Lafayette before he began his strategical retreat toward Fredricksburg, with the double object of protecting the manufactory of arms near Falmouth, and effecting a junction with the troops under General Wayne, ordered southward to reËnforce us. Cornwallis followed Lafayette, taking a parallel course to the eastward of ours. Often not more than twenty miles separated us, and we dared not slacken our march for heat or storm while the winged Cornwallis gave chase. The junction with Wayne before a battle was forced upon us was General Lafayette's one hope of escape. And now, once more, it was the privilege of the Scotch Irish to render signal service to the cause. To my company, and that of Captain Mercedes, fell the posts of honor and danger. We were the scouts, the pickets, the couriers, and the rear guard on this skillfully conducted retreat.

We had nearly reached the ford on the Pamunkey we had been pushing for, when a force of the enemy overtook us and pressed upon our rear. General Lafayette halted and formed line of battle with the determination to make a desperate stand. I had been sent for to reconnoiter, on the first report of the enemy's advance, and soon discovered that it was only a patrolling force, and that the main body of the British was yet some distance in the rear of us. Hastening with this good news to General Lafayette, I found it more expeditious to travel for several miles along the road recently gone over by Cornwallis' reconnoitering force, and between that force and the British army. As was my rule when on scout service, my squad marched in close column, with detail of two in front, and two in rear, as special lookouts. The front lookout stopped suddenly, and seemed to listen; we approached quickly and heard also the confused sounds, with screaming, and hoarse wrangling, which had arrested their attention. Convinced that the force in front, whatever its uniform and purpose, could be but a small one, I ordered my men to advance at double quick, and, putting spurs to my horse, I came immediately around the bend in the road to the scene of action.

A squad of fifteen or more British soldiers surrounded an overturned post chaise, from the tangled harness of which, four frightened and struggling horses were being extricated by trembling postilions. In the midst of the group were two female figures, one dressed in black, and heavily veiled, the other in the costume of a lady's maid. It was she who continued to utter piercing screams, throwing her hands about in the most tragic manner, and paying no heed to her mistress' low spoken commands. We were within fifty yards of the group before the thud of our horses hoofs upon the sandy soil was loud enough to rise above this confusion of clamors; and before the mounted British could turn, or the dismounted leap upon their horses, we had surrounded them.

"Stack arms: You are my prisoners!" I called, "and what means this cowardly attack upon a lady's traveling carriage?"

"You Americans have a trick of using women as your spies and couriers, and then crying shame upon us if we arrest them, and foil you! This pretended widow or orphan is doubtless stuffed like a pin cushion beneath her black robes with spies' reports, and warnings to Jefferson!" replied the officer in charge of the squad, as he angrily stacked his gun beside the rest, and cast scornful glances upon the veiled figure, who, until then, had stood haughtily erect and silent among them.

"It is a false charge!" she now answered, spiritedly; "I bear no dispatches, convey no messages. I but go to seek my only brother, late a British officer, now a wounded prisoner, yet treated by the courteous enemy who harbor him, I doubt not, with more gentleness than I am receiving from those who should be most prompt to succor and defend me!" Then, turning to me, she continued in tones less scornful: "Will you be so good as to inform me, sir, whose prisoner I have now the honor to be?—The fortune of war may change, it seems, with such magic swiftness, that one finds it difficult to be sure of one's present or one's prospective situation."

"You are no one's prisoner, madam," I replied, stirred suddenly by familiar tones in her voice; "you are under the protection, however, of Virginia troops commanded by Colonel McElroy, and will be conveyed to some place of safety acceptable to you as soon as possible." I had dismounted, meantime, and stood near her.

"Can it be Captain Donald McElroy, of Virginia?" she said in lowered and tremulous voice, at the same moment throwing back her veil, and revealing the face of Nelly Buford—fairer than ever in its setting of rich hair and banded crepe.

Does a man ever quite forget his first love? Has its remembrance always power to thrill him, even though the once lively sentiment be supplanted, or outlived? That the sound of Nelly's voice, and the touch of her hand, could yet thrill me, was, just now, a disturbing revelation. I felt myself disloyal to Ellen and so scorned myself for this fresh evidence of weakness, that I fear my manner to her was almost haughty.

Having dispatched a courier with my comforting news to General Lafayette, and sent my prisoners after him, under sufficient escort, I ordered the postilions, and some of my men, to right the carriage, and make the harness safe. Then I joined Nelly, and relieved her mind of all anxiety about her brother by telling her of his whereabouts, and the news I had had recently that he was convalescent, and would completely recover. Nelly's thanks were fervently expressed after which she proceeded to explain her present situation, and to give me her double reason for leaving the shelter her generous Quaker friends had for some months afforded her—the longing to find her brother, and the wish to relieve her host of the inconvenience and possible danger of harboring one of a family well-known to be strong Tory adherents.

The carriage having been made ready, Nelly and her maid were shut within, and, preceded and followed by mounted escort, Miss Buford was conveyed in state to General Lafayette's late headquarters. We found the army gone, and camp deserted, and I surmised, that, upon receipt of my courier's message, the general, seeing yet a chance to escape, had ordered an immediate advance. We followed, but did not overtake the hastily bivouacked army until past midnight.

No other accommodation than that Nelly's carriage offered was procurable, and so I regretfully informed her, to be cheerfully assured that she asked nothing better, if she might have cessation from jolting, and sense of security. The rest of the hot night I stood guard, watching the languid stars blink one by one to sleep, and waging lively warfare with the swarms of greedy mosquitoes, who constituted themselves surety for my vigilance. As soon as the first flush of morning tinged the eastern sky, I woke one of my men, and left him to guard the carriage while I sought General Lafayette. He was sound asleep under a tree with a gnarled root for pillow, his face and hands covered by his blanket to protect them from the swamp pests. Awakened by my step, he threw off his blanket, looked up at the sky, and muttered sleepily some unintelligible words in his own language.

"General Lafayette?" I said, stepping in front of him, and saluting, "I am Colonel McElroy, at present in command of a company of Virginia militiamen. Will you grant me a few moments of your time while the camp is getting ready to march?"

"Most certainly, Colonel McElroy," then, in the precise English of the cultivated foreigner, and with agreeable accent—"when I have thanked you for this valuable information sent me last evening. Ah, if fortune continues to favor us, we'll yet escape the bold Cornwallis, Colonel McElroy! But we must march unceasingly, till we meet the reinforcements of General Wayne. Then we'll give Cornwallis the fight he seems so much to wish, and show him what may be done by the united gallantry of America and France! But I retard your story, sir; command, now, my attention."

I related briefly the capture of the British stragglers, the rescue of the young lady, and added an account of my previous acquaintance with Miss Buford, and the debt of gratitude I felt myself under to her family. He listened with courteous attention, and responded with true French understanding of such obligation:

"You can do nothing less, Colonel McElroy, than escort the young woman in safety to her brother. Later I shall gladly detail such force to guard you as you may think necessary, but for the present it is safer that she remain with the army."

"Then you have no objection, General Lafayette, to her carriage and its escort traveling between the main army and my company—at present the van guard?"

"None, sir—under the circumstances."

"I have still another favor to ask, General"—somewhat embarrassed by my own boldness—"that you will grant Miss Buford the honor of an introduction. Such attention from you as a brief visit to her carriage would avoid all danger of familiar acts, words, or surmise from any of the troops while she must be with us; she would become your guest, and be under your personal protection."

"A shrewd thought, Colonel, worthy of your Scotch name," General Lafayette gayly replied, "and for gallantry of conception not unworthy one of my own countrymen! I consent, with pleasure, and while awaiting your orderly shall make such toilet as my very limited facilities permit."

Nelly had managed in some mysterious way to remove all traces of her tiresome journey and broken rest, and stood ready to receive the general, under the canopy of a blooming magnolia, meeting him with the ease of a society queen, and responding to his gallant speeches with grace and vivacity. The susceptible young Frenchman at once proclaimed himself her captive, lingering to talk with her until the troops in front were moving, and the rear guard falling into line of march.

Twice during the day he rode back to exchange a few words with her, and to assure himself of her comfort. He was so attentive, indeed, and so solicitous for her, that I think I felt almost a pang of jealousy at being deprived of the full credit of being the fair Nelly's rescuer and protector.

Our junction with Wayne was effected near the ford of the Rapidan a few days later. Already Cornwallis had given over the pursuit, and turned back to rejoin Tarleton. It was now possible for me to accept General Lafayette's offer of a furlough and escort, with fair prospect of safe journey to the valley by circuitous northeastern route. It seemed my fate, by some claim upon my private sentiments or some untoward accident, again and again to be withdrawn from active service at critical periods of our struggle. As willingly as I now rendered this service to one to whom I owed perhaps my life, I sighed inwardly to leave General Lafayette at a time when we might speedily expect some chance to strike a telling blow. To the General I expressed my regret, and was gratified by the warmth with which he assured me he would welcome my return as soon as I should have placed my fair charge in safety.

Not many hours before we reached home, when indeed we were entering the valley, I told Nelly of an amusing conceit that had been running in my head, namely—that I was destined for a rescuer of fair damsels, using this as an introduction to the story, I had been casting about for an excuse to relate, of Ellen O'Neil, and her journey to the west with Clark. But the presence of the maid kept back a full confession, and Nelly's suspicions did not seem to be aroused by my warm championship. Evidently she thought I but framed elaborate apologies for a kinswoman.

Miss Nelly's bearing, in truth, had been a source of disturbance to me for several days. She was so confiding, so almost affectionate in her manner, and seemed to appropriate me with such joyous confidence, that it was difficult not to meet her in like spirit. Not unto this day have I been able to determine the true meaning of her conduct during that journey. Did she believe that I was yet a captive to her charms? or, was it but the natural overflowing of grateful, friendly affection? Or—but even as it came I reproached myself for such thought—did she wish to make me again her slave, that she might have revenge for my single defiance of her power? Such reflections and uncertainties disturbed me more and more as we neared home; and mixed with the gratification of uniting Nelly and her brother, and the happiness I could but feel in the near prospect of seeing Ellen, was a sense of vague uneasiness, of shadowy foreboding.