“Little fear of that, sir; at present it is a sort of colonial scramble for what they fancy liberty.  That they will fight, in their zeal, I know; for I have seen it; but matters have not at all gone as far as you appear to apprehend.  I question if they would even stop Gage, himself, from going through their camp, were he outside, and did he express a desire to return.”

“And yet you tell me, arms and ammunition are seized all over the land; that several old half-pay officers of the king have been arrested, and put under a sort of parole!”

“Such things were talked of, certainly, though I question if they have yet been done.  Luckily for yourself, under your present opinions at least, you are not on half-pay, even.”

“It is fortunate, Bob, though you mention it with a smile.  With my present feelings, I should indeed be sorry to be on half-pay, or quarter-pay, were there such a thing.  I now feel myself my-own master, at liberty to follow the dictates of my conscience, and the suggestions of my judgment.”

“Well, sir, you are a little fortunate, it must be acknowledged.  I cannot see how any man can be at liberty to throw off the allegiance he owes his natural sovereign.  What think you, Maud?”

This was said half in bitterness, half in jest, though the appeal at its close was uttered in a serious manner, and a little anxiously.  Maud hesitated, as if to muster her thoughts, ere she replied.

“My feelings are against rebellion,” she said, at length; “though I fear my reason tells me there is no such thing as a natural sovereign.  If the parliament had not given us the present family, a century since, by what rule of nature would it be our princes, Bob?”

“Ah! these are some of the flights of your rich imagination, my dear—­ Maud; it is parliament that has made them our princes, and parliament, at least, is our legal, constitutional master.”

“That is just the point in dispute.  Parliament may be the rightful governors of England, but are they the rightful governors of America?”

“Enough,” said the captain, rising from table—­“We will not discuss such a question, just as we are about to separate.  Go, my son; a duty that is to be performed, cannot be done too soon.  Your fowling-piece and ammunition are ready for you, and I shall take care to circulate the report that you have gone to pass an hour in the woods, in search of pigeons.  God bless you, Bob; however we may differ in this matter—­ you are my son—­my only son—­my dear and well-beloved boy—­God for ever bless you!”

A profound stillness succeeded this burst of nature, and then the young man took his leave of his mother and the girls.  Mrs. Willoughby kissed her child.  She did not even weep, until she was in her room; then, indeed, she went to her knees, her tears, and her prayers.  Beulah, all heart and truth as she was, wept freely on her brother’s neck; but Maud, though pale and trembling, received his kiss without returning it; though she could not help saying with a meaning that the young man had in his mind all that day, ay, and for many succeeding days—­“be careful of yourself, and run into no unnecessary dangers; God bless you, dear, dear Bob.”