He waxed pathetic over the danger to his vast estate; he pointed out the conservative attitude of the great patroons and lords of the manors of Livingston, Cosby, Phillipse, Van Rensselaer, and Van Cortlandt.

“What about Schuyler?” I asked.

“Schuyler’s a fool!” he retorted, angrily.  “Any landed proprietor here can become a rebel general in exchange for his estate!  A fine bargain!  A thrifty dicker!  Let Philip Schuyler enjoy his brief reign in Albany.  What’s the market value of the glory he exchanged for his broad acres?  Can you appraise it, Sir John?”

Then Sir John Johnson arose, and, for the only moment in his career, he stood upon a principle—­a fallacious one, but still a principle; and for that I respected him, and have never quite forgotten it, even through the terrible years when he razed and burned and murdered among a people who can never forget the red atrocities of his devastations.

Glancing slowly around the table, with his pale, cold eyes contracting in the candle’s glare, he spoke in a voice absolutely passionless, yet which carried the conviction to all that what he uttered was hopelessly final: 

“Sir Lupus complains that he hazards all, should he cast his fortunes with his King.  Yet I have done that thing.  I am to-day a man with a price set on my head by these rebels of my own country.  My lands, if not already confiscated by rebel commissioners, are occupied by rebels; my manor-houses, my forts, my mills, my tenants’ farms are held by the rebels and my revenues denied me.  I was confined on parole within the limits of Johnson Hall.  They say I broke my parole, but they lie.  It was only when I had certain news that the Boston rebels were coming to seize my person and violate a sacred convention that I retired to Canada.”

He paused.  The explanation was not enough to satisfy me, and I expected him to justify the arming of Johnson Hall and his discovered intrigues with the Mohawks which set the rebels on the march to seize his person.  He gave none, resuming quietly: 

“I have hazarded a vast estate, vaster than yours, Sir Lupus, greater than the estates of all these gentlemen combined.  I do it because I owe obedience to the King who has honored me, and for no other reason on earth.  Yet I do it in fullest confidence and belief that my lands will be restored to me when this rebellion is stamped on and trodden out to the last miserable spark.”

He hesitated, wiped his thin mouth with his laced handkerchief, and turned directly towards the patroon.

“You ask me to remain neutral.  You promise me that, even at this late hour, my surrender and oath of neutrality will restore me my estates and guarantee me a peaceful, industrious life betwixt two tempests.  It may be so, Sir Lupus.  I think it would be so.  But, my friend, to fail my King when he has need of me is a villainy I am incapable of.  The fortunes of his Majesty are my fortunes; I stand or fall with him.  This is my duty as I see it.  And, gentlemen, I shall follow it while life endures.”