It is always a great relief to the mind, in moments of trial, to have decided on a course of future action.  So the major and Maud now found; for, taking his seat by her side, he began to converse with his companion more connectedly, and with greater calmness than either had yet been able to achieve.  Many questions were asked, and answers given, concerning the state of the family, that of his father and mother, and dear Beulah and her infant, the latter being as yet quite a stranger to the young soldier.

“Is he like his rebel of a father?” asked the royal officer, smiling, but as his companion fancied, painfully; “or has he more of the look of the Willoughbys.  Beekman is a good-looking Dutchman; yet, I would rather have the boy resemble the good old English stock, after all.”

“The sweet little fellow resembles both father and mother; though the first the most, to Beulah’s great delight.  Papa says he is true ‘Holland’s come of’, as they call it, though neither mamma nor I will allow of any such thing.  Colonel Beekman is a very worthy man, Bob, and a most affectionate and attentive husband.  Beulah, but for this war, could not be happier.”

“Then I forgive him one-half of his treason—­for the remainder let him take his luck.  Now I am an uncle, my heart begins to melt a little towards the rebel.  And you, Maud, how do the honours of an aunt sit upon your feelings?  But women are all heart, and would love a rat.”

Maud smiled, but she answered not.  Though Beulah’s child were almost as dear to her as one of her own could have been, she remembered that she was not its aunt, in fact; and, though she knew not why, in that company, and even at that grave moment, the obtrusive thought summoned a bright flush to her cheeks.  The major probably did not notice this change of countenance, since, after a short pause, he continued the conversation naturally.

“The child is called Evert, is it not, aunt Maud?” he asked, laying an emphasis on ‘aunt.’

Maud wished this word had not been used; and yet Robert Willoughby, could the truth have been known, had adverted to it with an association in his own mind, that would have distressed her, just then, still more. Aunt Maud was the name that others, however, were most fond of adopting, since the birth of the child; and remembering this, our heroine smiled.

“That is what Beulah has called me, these six months,” she said—­“or ever since Evert was born.  I became an aunt the day he became a nephew; and dear, good Beulah has not once called me sister since, I think.”

“These little creatures introduce new ties into families,” answered the major, thoughtfully.  “They take the places of the generations before them, and edge us out of our hold on the affections, as in the end they supplant us in our stations in life.  If Beulah love me only as an uncle, however, she may look to it.  I’ll be supplanted by no Dutchman’s child that was ever born!”