It need scarcely be added that the rest of the company were not a little amazed at these cross-concessions, while Maud was exceedingly amused.  As for Mrs. Willoughby, nothing laughable ever occurred in connection with her husband; and then she would as soon think of assailing the church itself, as to ridicule one of its ministers.  Beulah could see nothing but what was right in her father, at least; and, as for the major, he felt too much concerned at this unexpected admission of his father’s, to perceive anything but the error.

“Have you not overlooked the injunction of scripture, my excellent friend?” rejoined the chaplain.  “Have you left to the rights of Caesar, all their weight and authority?  ’The king’s name is a tower of strength.’”

“Have not you, Woods, forgotten the superior claims of reason and right, over those of accident and birth—­that man is to be considered as a reasoning being, to be governed by principles and ever-varying facts, and not a mere animal left to the control of an instinct that perishes with its usefulness?”

“What can they mean, mother?” whispered Maud, scarce able to repress the laughter that came so easily to one with a keen sense of the ludicrous.

“They have been arguing about the right of parliament to tax the colonies, I believe, my dear, and over-persuaded each other, that’s all.  It is odd, Robert, that Mr. Woods should convert your father.”

“No, my dearest mother, it is something even more serious than that.”  By this time, the disputants, who sat opposite each other, were fairly launched into the discussion, again, and heeded nothing that passed—­“No, dearest mother, it is far worse than even that.  Pliny, tell my man to brush the hunting-jacket—­and, see he has his breakfast, in good style—­he is a grumbling rascal, and will give the house a bad character, else—­you need not come back, until we ring for you—­yes, mother, yes dearest girls, this is a far more serious matter than you suppose, though it ought not to be mentioned idly, among the people.  God knows now they may take it—­and bad news flies swift enough, of itself.”

“Merciful Providence!” exclaimed Mrs. Willoughby-"What can you mean, my son?”

“I mean, mother, that civil war has actually commenced in the colonies, and that the people of your blood and race are, in open arms, against the people of my father’s native country—­in a word, against me.”

“How can that be, Robert?  Who would dare to strike a blow against the king?”

“When men get excited, and their passions are once inflamed, they will do much, my mother, that they might not dream of, else.”

“This must be a mistake!  Some evil-disposed person has told you this, Robert, knowing your attachment to the crown.”

“I wish it were so, dear madam; but my own eyes have seen—­I may say my own flesh has felt, the contrary.”