The ladies were too delighted to find their father and husband in such spirits, to be critical, and all soon after sat down to an early breakfast, to eat with what appetite they could.

Chapter XXII.

  Yet I well remember
  The favours of these men:  were they not mine? 
  Did they not sometimes cry, all hail! to me? 
  So Judas did to Christ:  but he, in twelve
  Found truth in all but one; I in twelve thousand none.

  Richard II.

That which captain Willoughby had said in seeming pleasantry he seriously meditated.  The idea of passing another night in the Hut, supported by only six men, with more than ten times that number besieging him, and with all the secrets of his defences known, through the disaffection of his retainers, was, to the last degree, painful to him.  Had his own life, alone, been at risk, military pride might have tempted him to remain; but his charge was far too precious to be exposed on account of considerations so vain.

No sooner, therefore, was the breakfast over, than captain summoned Joyce to a consultation on the contemplated movement.  The interview took place in the library, whither the serjeant repaired, on receiving his superior’s orders.  As to the party without, no apprehension was felt, so long as the sentinels were even moderately vigilant, and the day lasted.

“I suppose, serjeant,” commenced captain Willoughby, “a soldier of your experience is not to be taught what is the next resort of a commanding officer, when he finds himself unable to make good his ground against his enemy in front?”

“It is to retreat, your honour.  The road that cannot be passed, must be turned.”

“You have judged rightly.  It is now my intention to evacuate the Hut, and to try our luck on a march to the rear.  A retreat, skilfully executed, is a creditable thing; and any step appears preferable to exposing the dear beings in the other room to the dangers of a night assault.”

Joyce appeared struck with the suggestion; though, if one might have judged from the expression of his countenance, far from favourably.  He reflected a moment ere he answered.

“Did your honour send for me,” he then inquired, “to issue orders for this retreat, or was it your pleasure to hear anything I might have to say about it?”

“The last—­I shall give no orders, until I know your opinion of the measure.”

“It is as much the duty of an inferior to speak his mind freely, when he is called for an opinion, captain Willoughby, as it is to obey in silence, when he gets nothing but orders.  According to my views of the matter, we shall do better to stand our ground, and try to make good the house against these vagabonds, than to trust to the woods.”

“Of course you have your reasons for this opinion, Joyce?”

“Certainly, your honour.  In the first place, I suppose it to be against the rules of the art of war to evacuate a place that is well provisioned, without standing an assault.  This we have not yet done.  It is true, sir, that our ranks are thinned by desertions; but I never heard of a garrisoned town, or a garrisoned house, capitulating on account of a few deserters; and, I take it, evacuation is only the next step before capitulation.”