“Every one suffers in war time,” he would say. “We can expect nothing else.”
“And will the war never end?” she exclaimed one day.
“Ay, some day, my dear,” he answered, so gently that she was ashamed of her vehemence. “Remember that Jacob served for Rachel seven years; would you have us, who are serving for Liberty, stop at only five?”
“If seven years were all,” she could not help replying, “but it looks now as though it were to be seven hundred.”
There came at last a bright autumn morning that she was never to forget. The brisk spiciness in the air made the sun seem pleasant, so that Stephen, who had been ailing a little more than usual, had had his chair moved to the window that he might bask in the grateful warmth. Clotilde had made him comfortable with cushions and had gone to attend to her other duties about the house. She was standing at the china-cupboard in the dining-room when she heard the sound of horse’s feet on the drive, heard the rattle of the knocker and old Jason’s shuffling steps as he went to open the door. There was a pause, then Stephen’s voice called to her from the next room.
“Clotilde, my child,” he said, “a despatch from General Washington, and such joyful news. Come quickly and read it. But wait, first attend to the messenger, I have never seen a man so spent.”
“Yes, Master Sheffield, I will come to you in a moment,” she answered.
Jason was conducting the man to the kitchen and she followed to see that he had what he needed. He did indeed seem to have ridden so hard as to be utterly worn out; he sat in the chimney corner scarcely able to speak, so she spent some time in brewing a drink that would help to revive his strength. It must have been nearly twenty minutes later that she went into the study.
Stephen was leaning back in his big chair, the letter still lying on his knee. He had dropped asleep there in the peaceful sunshine and seemed to be dreaming of happy things, so contented was his smile. She took the paper and read, only a few short words, but joyful news indeed.
“On October nineteenth, Lord Cornwallis surrendered his entire force to the allied French and American armies. I think we may say, dear friend, and thank God in so saying, that this means the end of the war.”