The receipt of this important intelligence confirmed Beekman in the intention to depart.  The very next morning he tore himself away from Beulah, and proceeded to Albany.  The appointment of Washington, and a long list of other officers, soon succeeded, including his own as a colonel; and the war may be said to have commenced systematically.  Its distant din occasionally reached the Hutted Knoll; but the summer passed away, bringing with it no event to affect the tranquillity of that settlement.  Even Joel’s schemes were thwarted for a time, and he was fain to continue to wear the mask, and to gather that harvest for another, which he had hoped to reap for his own benefit.

Beulah had all a young wife’s fears for her husband; but, as month succeeded month, and one affair followed another, without bringing him harm, she began to submit to the anxieties inseparable from her situation, with less of self-torment, and more of reason.  Her mother and Maud were invaluable friends to her, in this novel and trying situation, though each had her own engrossing cares on account of Robert Willoughby.  As no other great battle, however, occurred in the course of the year ’75, Beekman remained in safety with the troops that invested Boston, and the major with the army within it.  Neither was much exposed, and glad enough were these gentle affectionate hearts, when they learned that the sea separated the combatants.

This did not occur, however, until another winter was passed.  In November, the family left the Hut, as had been its practice of late years, and went out into the more inhabited districts to pass the winter.  This time it came only to Albany, where colonel Beekman joined it, passing a few happy weeks with his well-beloved Beulah.  The ancient town mentioned was not gay at a moment like that; but it had many young officers in it, on the American side of the question, who were willing enough to make themselves acceptable to Maud.  The captain was not sorry to see several of these youths manifesting assiduity about her he had so long been accustomed to consider as his youngest daughter; for, by this time, his opinions had taken so strong a bias in favour of the rights of the colonies, that Beekman himself scarce rejoiced more whenever he heard of any little success alighting on the American arms.

“It will all come right in the end,” the worthy captain used to assure his friend the chaplain.  “They will open their eyes at home, ere long, and the injustice of taxing the colonies will be admitted.  Then all will come round again; the king will be as much beloved as ever, and England and America will be all the better friends for having a mutual respect.  I know my countrymen well; they mean right, and will do right, as soon as their stomachs are a little lowered, and they come to look at the truth, coolly.  I’ll answer for it, the Battle of Bunker’s Hill made us”—­the captain had spoken in this way, now, for some months—­“made us a thousand advocates, where we had one before.  This is the nature of John Bull; give him reason to respect you, and he will soon do you justice; but give him reason to feel otherwise, and he becomes a careless, if not a hard master.”