“How the lad has grown!” said the captain, tears of pride starting into his eyes, in spite of a very manful resolution to appear composed and soldier-like.

“I was about to remark that myself, captain,” observed the chaplain.  “I do think Mr. Robert has got to his full six feet—­every inch as tall as you are yourself, my good sir.”

“That is he, Woods—­and taller in one sense.  He is a major, already, at twenty-seven; it is a step I was not able to reach at near twice the age.”

“That is owing, my dear sir,” answered the son quickly, and with a slight tremor in his voice, “to your not having as kind a father as has fallen to my share—­or at least one not as well provided with the means of purchasing.”

“Say none at all, Bob, and you can wound no feeling, while you will tell the truth. My father died a lieutenant-colonel when I was a school-boy; I owed my ensigncy to my uncle Sir Hugh, the father of the present Sir Harry Willoughby; after that I owed each step to hard and long service.  Your mother’s legacies have helped you along, at a faster rate, though I do trust there has been some merit to aid in the preferment.”

“Speaking of Sir Harry Willoughby, sir, reminds me of one part of my errand to the Hut,” said the major, glancing his eye towards his father, as if to prepare him for some unexpected intelligence.

“What of my cousin?” demanded the captain, calmly.  “We have not met in thirty years, and are the next thing to strangers to each other.  Has he made that silly match of which I heard something when last in York?  Has he disinherited his daughter as he threatened?  Use no reserve here; our friend Woods is one of the family.”

“Sir Harry Willoughby is not married, sir, but dead.”

“Dead!” repeated the captain, setting down his cup, like one who received a sudden shock.  “I hope not without having been reconciled to his daughter, and providing for her large family?”

“He died in her arms, and escaped the consequences of his silly intention to marry his own housekeeper.  With one material exception, he has left Mrs. Bowater his whole fortune.”

The captain sat thoughtful, for some time; every one else being silent and attentive.  But the mother’s feelings prompted her to inquire as to the nature of the exception.

“Why, mother, contrary to all my expectations, and I may say wishes, he has left me twenty-five thousand pounds in the fives.  I only hold the money as my father’s trustee.”

“You do no such thing, Master Bob, I can tell you!” said the captain, with emphasis.

The son looked at the father, a moment, as if to see whether he was understood, and then he proceeded—­

“I presume you remember, sir,” said the major, “that you are the heir to the title?”

“I have not forgot that, major Willoughby; but what is an empty baronetcy to a happy husband and father like me, here in the wilds of America?  Were I still in the army, and a colonel, the thing might be of use; as I am, I would rather have a tolerable road from this place to the Mohawk than the duchy of Norfolk, without the estate.”