Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 382: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

362 Tom ANDERSON, DaRE-DEVIL “O’er the gory field of War Where Vengeance drives her crimson car, Thou’lt be, perchance, from me afar, Wi’ none to close thine eye, laddie — Thou’lt be, perchance, from me afar, Wi’ none to close thine eye!”’ Oh, the passion of it! As the last note was hushed, Dare turned to confront a newcomer, summoned by his com- pelling glance. Here was a man as full of unconfused power as a planet. “Great is vermilion splashed with gold,” in very truth! And here was one who wore it worthily. With this officer’s rich uniform was worn a cer- tain historic saber in a scabbard of tortoise-shell and gold. She saw these things as we see colors in a picture — but those eyes made her quake. “My own song! Sung as I’ve never heard it sung. I thank you!” “Your song?” — What was it Arthur had said? — long ago. “If you knew who wrote it, you might not like the ballad so well.” “T wrote it. And now I have the good fortune to hear it sung by a voice as sweet as an angel’s. Do you know me? I am Banastre Tarleton.” Tarleton the Terrible! At last! “T know, young lady, that your father and brothers are active Rebels. But for the sake of that little song — it hath its roots in my heart — the Black Dragoons shall not be loosed upon Oxheart.”’ Dare swept him a shaky little curtsy. But her throat throbbed so she could not speak. And so, in complete silence, she left him. At the door she turned and again met his eyes. [he furnace-light of the red west seemed to fuse itself about the Great Soldier. What a kingly figure was the Man in Vermilion! In the hall were house-serv- ants, giggling and whimpering with excitement. Dare or- dered one to light the candles, another to lay the cloth. They went about their business. For an instant she was alone in the big, unlighted hall— in a measure at least. ECONMMICLOOOKSse© m