Here Comes a Candle (2 page)

“
Heard what? Pull yourself together, girl. Explain!
”
Impossible not to speak impatiently to this wraith of a girl who stood and spoke like an automaton, without even a
tear for old Mac
’
s death.

She was beyond resenting his tone. One thin brown hand pushed
th
e tumbling curls back from her forehead as she marshaled her thoughts to answer him.
“
About your cousin Mark,
”
she said.
“
He was wounded on the Lacolle River last autumn. He
’
s been in hospital at Montreal all winter, very ill. Mrs. McGowan only heard a few weeks ago. She sent Liz to him at once. She said it didn
’
t matter about her. Besides, I was here to look after her.
”

“
This is all very fine,
”
the American captain broke in impatiently,
“
but what we want to know, miss, is how you came to let the old
”
—he remembered Jonathan Penrose—
“
the old lady loose with the rifle.
”

“
I must have fallen asleep for a moment,
”
Kate replied.
“
I
’
d been up all night, with Mrs. McGowan restless, and the panic in the town. The doctor said it would kill her to move her.
”
She turned to Jonathan Penrose.
“
So there was nothing for it but to stay. Dr. Brown said he
’
d come this morning; let me know how things went. I suppose he
’
s been too busy. It was horrible. When the firing started, she roused up and started
t
alkin
g
about her husband, about Bunker Hill. I didn
’
t understa
n
d at first. It was all I could do to keep her quiet. At last I managed to give her some of the drops the doctor left
...
the firing had slackened ... I thought she
’
d fallen asleep ... I sat down for a minute in the chair by the bed. The explosion woke me—only it woke her first.
”

“
Yes, that explosion!
”
said the captain.
“
The mine that killed General Pike. We
’
ll not forget that in a hurry.
”
Behind him, the Assembly Buildings, burning fiercely now, gave grim point to his words. Through the trees, they could catch glimpses of American soldiers going about the sordid business of the sack. And yet it was oddly quiet now that the firing had stopped, since almost all the able
-
bodied inhabitants of York had taken to the woods when the Americans landed.
“
So you just went off to sleep!
”
The captain had not finished with Kate Croston.
“
And left her loose to fire on us?
”

“
I
’
ve sat up with her seven nights running,
”
said the girl.
“
And nursed my husband before that. But why should you care? Yes—I did drop off, just for a few moments. When I woke she
’
d got the rifle up from the cellar. I didn
’
t even know it was there—still less loaded. Liz should have told me
...
She turned it on me. Said I was a rebel
...
Said all kinds of things
...
about Gage, and Prescott, and Putnam. I didn
’
t understand for a while. I just thought she
’
d catch cold.
”
Savage irony in her tone.

“
Bunker Hill,
”
said Jonathan.
“
Her husband—my grandfather was killed there. That
’
s when she came to Canada. Poor darling, she was always homesick for Boston,
”
And then, turning with sudden fury on the American captain:
“
Don
’
t you think you
’
ve done enough? You
’
ve killed a harmless old woman, who thought she was fighting another war, in another country. And now you talk about hanging a girl whose only crime seems to have been her willingness to stay and risk her life nursing a stranger. You make me ashamed to call myself American. Must we become barbarians because we are fi
ghtin
g a war that was not of our choosing? Look! Look there beyond the trees! It
’
s not just the Assembly Buildings that are burning, though that
’
s bad enough, the library
’
s gone, the archives, everything. I tell you, the fires you
’
ve lit here today will be paid for sometime, in blood and tears.
”
He and the captain had both turned, as he spoke, to look at the burning buildings. Now the sound of scuffling made him turn back in time to see two of the American soldiers manhandling the girl toward the open door of the house. One of them had his hand over her mouth. Above it, her eyes met his, without hope.
“
Stop it!
”
His voice was different now, commanding, the sea captain
’
s voice, used to carry above wind and weather.

The two men stopped in the doorway, but still held the girl, not gently.
“
She tried to escape,
”
said one of them, and winked broadly at his captain.
“
You all saw her try to run for it, didn
’
t you? I reckon anything goes after that. But not hanging—that would be kind of a waste, I guess.
”
His free hand, moving down over her shoulder, gave point to his words. She writhed against it, her eyes still fixed, with that gaze of mute despair, on Jonathan.

The captain looked frightened.
“
But General Dearborn said—
”
his tone as he began the protest warned Jonathan that he was a broken reed, a soldier for Sundays only.

One long stride and he had the two men by their collars, tearing them away from the girl.
“
I say you
’
re to leave her alone.
”
He stood there, unarmed, in his civilian black, staring them down.

There was an odd, ugly moment of silence. But this angry young man was a
fri
end of Commodore Chauncey
’
s and everyone knew that only the American Navy had distinguished itself so far in this war that no one wanted. Besides, he was clearly not to be trifled with.
“
If I were you,
”
he went on more mildly, addressing himself to the captain as if he were still in command of his men,
“
I
’
d be inclined to get back to the assembly point
.
Dearborn doesn
’
t much like stragglers. I
’
ll take care of the young woman. And be answerable for her to the authorities, if necessary.
”

“
Oh, in that case
...”
The captain reached for dignity, but achieved only the tones of heartfelt relief.
“
We
’
d better get back to work, boys. But you
’
re responsible, sir, don
’
t forget
.
”

“
I won
’
t
.
”
He was furious with himself as he watched them go. Madness to have saddled himself with the responsibility for this poor little brow
n
thing who was leaning now against the door of the house, shuddering as if she would never stop.
“
It
’
s a
ll
right.
”
He said it as kindly as he could manage.
“
They
’
ve gone.
”

“
Yes.
”
She raised dull eyes to his and he found himself wondering what in the world the Americans had seen in her.
“
I should thank you. You saved me—
”
she clenched her teeth on her lower
lip
to stop it trembling.

“
Oh, as to that—
”
Impatiently.
“
I don
’
t imagine you were in any real danger. We
’
re not, in fact, barbarians, we Americans.
”

“
No?
”
Disconcertingly, she left it at that
.

He turned away from her with a spasm of irritation as much at himself as at her.
“
Get her bed ready, would you?
”
He bent and picked up his grandmother
’
s body.
“
My dear old Mac.
”
Holding the limp little corpse in one arm, as if it weighed nothing, he bent to brush straggling gray hair away from the forehead.

She watched dully for a moment, surprised at the strength he showed, then turned away to hurry indoors and smooth the sheets on the narrow bed. Now, at last, tears she had not shed for herself began to flow easily down her cheeks.

“
I should be crying, not you.
”
He drew the sheet up gently over the lined old face.
“
I could, too.
”
She could see that this was true.
“
But there
’
s no time. If I am to protect you, I must know more about it all. Who are you? How do you come here?
”
And then, angrily:
“
And what are you doing?
”

She had been moving about the kitchen-living room, putting a few things into a shabby carpetbag.
“
I
’
m nobody,
”
she said.
“
Nothing. I
’
m grateful, of course. I
’
ll not trouble you further.
”

“
Nonsense!
”
Once again, the anger was as much for himself as for her. He wanted to be rid of her, but could not let her go.
“
You can
’
t go now. I
’
d not let a dog out there today. Besides, you heard what I said. I
’
m responsible for you. When I can, I will be happy to escort you to your friends.
”

“
Friends? I have none. Or rather—she was my friend, and look what I did to her. It
’
s not safe to be my friend.
”

“
Ridiculous!
”
The anger warmed him.
“
You
’
re tired out and talking nonsense. Sit down, pull yourself together and tell me what
’
s been going on here.
”

The tone of command worked. She let herself fall limply into the old rocking chair by the stove, and he felt a quick pang, remembering it as sacred to his grandmother.
“
Well, I told you,
”
she said.
“
Most of it. Mark, your cousin, was ill in Montreal. Liz didn
’
t like to leave Mrs. McGowan alone. You see, she
’
d been ill all winter. They were almost frantic, the two of them. The letter about Mark came through when the trails were still open—before the thaw. He needed Liz—needed nursing. So when we were billeted here—and Fred died—she said I was a godsend. Liz did.
”
And then, with a surprising, wry touch of humor.
“
She almost said
it
was. Fred
’
s death. Poor Liz. So she left the same day. You couldn
’
t blame her. And I had nothing else to do.
”

“
Fred was your husband?
”
He regretted the dry question as he asked it, but she seemed beyond noticing.
“
Yes. He was in the British Army. Sergeant Croston.
”

“
I
’
m sorry.
”

“
There
’
s no need—
”
She was staring past him at memory, and speaking with the frankness of sheer exhaustion.
“
I didn
’
t love him. There was no question of that between us. But he was wonderfully good to me. He saved me—
”
She stopped.
“
He took me away. He was ill already then. He didn
’
t tell me. Oh well, what
’
s the difference
...
”
The phrases came out disjointedly.
“
I didn
’
t understand till we were on the troop transport, coming over. But I did the best I could for
him
... I nursed him as well as a real wife could have done.
”

“I’
m sure you did.
”
Her explanation, such as it was, left him more puzzled than ever. He had spent long enough in England to recognize the clipped accents of an English lady. What in the world h
a
d this child been doing married to a sergeant? But his next question was forestalled by a knock on the door.
“
Don
’
t worry.
”
He moved before she could open it.
“
I won
’
t let them hurt you.
”

But instead of the angry group of soldiers he expected, one man stood outside, old and bent in his rusty professional black, a doctor
’
s bag in his hand. There was a great smear of blood, of which he was quite unaware, on the side of his face.
“
I came as soon as I could,
”
he began. And then,
“
Jon Penrose! Thank God!
”

“
Dr. Brown!
”
Jonathan shook his hand warmly and drew him into the house.
“
So you didn
’
t run with the rest of them?
”

“
I? A doctor? What do you think? But how
’
s your grandmother? I told Mrs. Croston I wouldn
’
t be answerable for the consequences if she had to spend the
night in the woods. How is
she, Mrs. Croston?
”

“
Dead.
”
The girl raised her head to stare at him with lackluster eyes.
“
I killed her, Dr. Brown.
”

Nonsense.
”
Quickly, Jonathan explained what had happened.

“
Ah
, poor
Mac.
”
The doctor put down his bag.
“
So
I’ll
not be needing this. Not your fault, Mrs. Croston. Mine, if you like. After all, I made you stay. Or rather, made her.
”
And then, to Jonathan,
“
I thought Mrs. Croston should run for it, like the rest of them, but she wouldn
’
t. A young girl
...
I
’
m ashamed not to have been here sooner; I meant to; but, Jon, that explosion! It was horrible; more than the army doctors could deal with. I oughtn
’
t to have come away now; I mustn
’
t stay. Thank God you
’
re here to look after Mrs. Croston. But, just the same, what are you doing here, Jon?
”

Jonathan Penrose laughed savagely.
“
I came to rescue my grandmother,
”
he said,
“
and my cousin Liz. Chauncey wouldn
’
t let me land sooner.
”
Raw feeling shook his voice.

“
Don
’
t blame yourself, Jon. There was nothing you could have done. It
’
s over ten years since you
’
ve been here, isn
’
t it? Your grandmother could no more have stood the journey to Boston than she could have jumped over the moon.
”

“
So it
’
s all for nothing.
”
The despair in his voice made the old doctor look at him sharply.

Even the girl roused herself from where she sat huddled in the big chair.
“
Not nothing to me, Mr. Penrose,
”
she said.
“
I find I
’
m glad to be alive. But why did
y
ou want your cousin Liz?
”