“You have a brother a captain of foot in one of the regiments of the crown, colonel Beekman—­what are his views in this serious state of affairs?”

“He has already thrown up his commission—­refusing even to sell out, a privilege that was afforded him.  His name is now before congress for a majority in one of the new regiments that are to be raised.”

The captain looked grave; Mrs. Willoughby anxious; Beulah interested; and Maud thoughtful.

“This has a serious aspect, truly,” observed the first.  “When men abandon all their early hopes, to assume new duties, there must be a deep and engrossing cause.  I had not thought it like to come to this!”

“We have had hopes major Willoughby might do the same; I know that a regiment is at his disposal, if he be disposed to join us.  No one would be more gladly received.  We are to have Gates, Montgomery, Lee, and many other old officers, from regular corps, on our side.”

“Will colonel Lee be put at the head of the American forces?”

“I think not, sir.  He has a high reputation, and a good deal of experience, but he is a humourist; and what is something, though you will pardon it, he is not an American born.”

“It is quite right to consult such considerations, Beekman; were I in congress, they would influence me, Englishman as I am, and in many things must always remain.”

“I am glad to hear you say that, Willoughby,” exclaimed the chaplain—­” right down rejoiced to hear you say so!  A man is bound to stand by his birth-place, through thick and thin.”

“How do you, then, reconcile your opinions, in this matter, to your birth-place, Woods?” asked the laughing captain.

To own the truth, the chaplain was a little confused.  He had entered into the controversy with so much zeal, of late, as to have imbibed the feelings of a thorough partisan; and, as is usual, with such philosophers, was beginning to overlook everything that made against his opinions, and to exaggerate everything that sustained them.

“How?”—­he cried, with zeal, if not with consistency—­“Why, well enough.  I am an Englishman too, in the general view of the case, though born in Massachusetts.  Of English descent, and an English subject.”

“Umph!—­Then Beekman, here, who is of Dutch descent, is not bound by the same principles as we are ourselves?”

“Not by the same feelings possibly; but, surely, by the same principles.  Colonel Beekman is an Englishman by construction, and you are by birth.  Yes, I’m what may be called a constructive Englishman.”

Even Mrs. Willoughby and Beulah laughed at this, though not a smile had crossed Maud’s face, since her eye had lost Robert Willoughby from view.  The captain’s ideas seemed to take a new direction, and he was silent some little time before he spoke.

“Under the circumstances in which we are now placed, as respects each other, Mr. Beekman,” he said, “it is proper that there should be no concealments on grave points.  Had you arrived an hour or two earlier, you would have met a face well known to you, in that of my son, major Willoughby.”