“You may well imagine,” the major continued, “that I have not made this journey entirely without an object—­I mean some object more important, even, than to see you all.  The commander-in-chief is empowered to raise several regiments in this country, and it is thought useful to put men of influence in the colonies at their head.  Old Noll de Lancey, for instance, so well known to us all, is to have a brigade; and I have a letter in my pocket offering to Sir Hugh Willoughby one of his regiments.  One of the Allens of Pennsylvania, who was actually serving against us, has thrown up his commission from congress, since this wicked declaration, and has consented to take a battalion from the king.  What think you of all this?  Will it not have weight with my father?”

“It may cause him to reflect, Bob; but it will not induce him to change his mind.  It may suit Mr. Oliver de Lancey to be a general, for he has been a soldier his whole life; but my father has retired, and given up all thoughts of service.  He tells us he never liked it, and has been happier here at the Knoll, than when he got his first commission.  Mr. Allen’s change of opinion may be well enough, he will say, but I have no need of change; I am here, with my wife and daughters, and have them to care for, in these troubled times.  What think you he said, Bob, in one of his conversations with us, on this very subject?”

“I am sure I cannot imagine—­though I rather fear it was some wretched political stuff of the day.”

“So far from this, it was good natural feeling that belongs, or ought to belong to all days, and all ages,” answered Maud, her voice trembling a little as she proceeded. “‘There is my son,’ he said; ’one soldier is enough in a family like this. He keeps all our hearts anxious, and may cause them all to mourn.’”

Major Willoughby was mute for quite a minute, looking rebuked and thoughtful.

“I fear I do cause my parents concern,” he at length answered; “and why should I endeavour to increase that of my excellent mother, by persuading her husband to return to the profession?  If this were ordinary service, I could not think of it.  I do not know that I ought to think of it, as it is!”

“Do not, dear Robert.  We are all—­that is, mother is often miserable on your account; and why would you increase her sorrows?  Remember that to tremble for one life is sufficient for a woman.”

“My mother is miserable on my account!” answered the young man, who was thinking of anything but his father, at that instant.  “Does Beulah never express concern for me? or have her new ties completely driven her brother from her recollection?  I know she can scarce wish me success; but she might still feel some uneasiness for an only brother.  We are but two—­”