Produced by David Widger
By Winston Churchill
L. Farewell to Gordon's
LI. How an Idle Prophecy came to pass
LII. How the Gardener's Son fought the Serapis
LIII. In which I make Some Discoveries
LIV. More Discoveries.
LV. The Love of a Maid for a Man
LVI. How Good came out of Evil
LVII. I come to my Own again
I cannot bear to recall my misery of mind after Mr. Swain's death.One hope had lightened all the years of my servitude. For, when Iexamined my soul, I knew that it was for Dorothy I had laboured. Andevery letter that came from Comyn telling me she was still free gave menew heart for my work. By some mystic communion—I know not what—I feltthat she loved me yet, and despite distance and degree. I would wake ofa morning with the knowledge of it, and be silent for half the day withsome particle of a dream in my head, lingering like the burden of a songwith its train of memories.
So, in the days that followed, I scarce knew myself. For a while(I shame to write it) I avoided that sweet woman who had made my comforther care, whose father had taken me when I was homeless. The good in mecried out, but the flesh rebelled.
Poor Patty! Her grief for her father was pathetic to see. Weeks passedin which she scarcely spoke a word. And I remember her as she sat inchurch Sundays, the whiteness of her face enhanced by the crape she wore,and a piteous appeal in her gray eyes. My own agony was nigh beyondendurance, my will swinging like a pendulum from right to wrong, and backagain. Argue as I might that I had made the barrister no promise,conscience allowed no difference. I was in despair at the trick fatehad played me; at the decree that of all women I must love her whosesphere was now so far removed from mine. For Patty had character andbeauty, and every gift which goes to make man's happiness and to kindlehis affections.
Her sorrow left her more womanly than ever. And after the first sharpsting of it was deadened, I noticed a marked reserve in her intercoursewith me. I knew then that she must have strong suspicions of herfather's request. Speak I could not soon after the sad event, but Istrove hard that she should see no change in my conduct.
Before Christmas we went to the Eastern Shore. In Annapolis fife anddrum had taken the place of fiddle and clarion; militia companies weredrilling in the empty streets; despatches were arriving daily from theNorth; and grave gentlemen were hurrying to meetings. But if the war wasto come, I must settle what was to be done at Gordon's Pride with allpossible speed. It was only a few days after our going there, that Irode into Oxford with a black cockade in my hat Patty had made me, andthe army sword Captain Jack had given Captain Daniel at my side. For Ihad been elected a lieutenant in the Oxford company, of which PercySingleton was captain.
So passed that winter, the darkest of my life. One soft spring day, whenthe birds were twittering amid new-born leaves, and the hyacinths andtulips in Patty's garden were coming to their glory, Master Tom rodeleisurely down the drive at Gordon's Pride. That was a Saturday, the29th of April, 1775. The news which had flown southward, night and dayalike, was in no hurry to run off his tongue; he had been lolling on theporch for half an hour before he told us of the bloodshed between theminute-men of Massachusetts and the British regulars, of the rout ofPercy's panting red