“Soon after the affair—­or, as soon as we got some notion of its effect on the provinces, general Gage sent me, privately, with despatches to governor Tryon. He, governor Tryon, was aware of your position; and, as I had also to communicate the death of Sir Harry Willoughby, he directed me to come up the river, privately, have an interview with Sir John, if possible, and then push on, under a feigned name, and communicate with you.  He thinks, now Sir William is dead, that with your estate, and new rank, and local influence, you might be very serviceable in sustaining the royal cause; for, it is not to be concealed that this affair is likely to take the character of an open and wide-spread revolt against the authority of the crown.”

“General Tryon does me too much honour,” answered the captain, coldly.  “My estate is a small body of wild land; my influence extends little beyond this beaver meadow, and is confined to my own household, and some fifteen or twenty labourers; and as for the new rank of which you speak, it is not likely the colonists will care much for that, if they disregard the rights of the king.  Still, you have acted like a son in running the risk you do, Bob; and I pray God you may get back to your regiment, in safety.”

“This is a cordial to my hopes, sir; for nothing would pain me more than to believe you think it my duty, because I was born in the colonies, to throw up my commission, and take side with the rebels.”

“I do not conceive that to be your duty, any more than I conceive it to be mine to take sides against them, because I happened to be born in England.  It is a weak view of moral obligations, that confines them merely to the accidents of birth, and birth-place.  Such a subsequent state of things may have grown up, as to change all our duties, and it is necessary that we discharge them as they are; not as they may have been, hitherto, or may be, hereafter.  Those who clamour so much about mere birth-place, usually have no very clear sense of their higher obligations.  Over our birth we can have no control; while we are rigidly responsible for the fulfilment of obligations voluntarily contracted.”

“Do you reason thus, captain?” asked the chaplain, with strong interest—­“Now, I confess, I feel, in this matter, not only very much like a native American, but very much like a native Yankee, in the bargain.  You know I was born in the Bay, and—­the major must excuse me—­but, it ill-becomes my cloth to deceive—­I hope the major will pardon me—­I—­I do hope—­”

“Speak out, Mr. Woods,” said Robert Willoughby, smiling—­“You have nothing to fear from your old friend the major.”

“So I thought—­so I thought—­well, then, I was glad—­yes, really rejoiced at heart, to hear that my countrymen, down-east, there, had made the king’s troops scamper,”

“I am not aware that I used any such terms, sir, in connection with the manner in which we marched in, after the duty we went out on was performed,” returned the young soldier, a little stiffly.  “I suppose it is natural for one Yankee to sympathize with another; but, my father, Mr. Woods, is an Old England, and not a New-England-man; and he may be excused if he feel more for the servants of the crown.”