“Where shall I go, father?” he asked.

The Squire was silent for a while.  He had exhausted himself by the energy with which he had spoken hitherto.  When next he opened his lips his words came more slowly and languidly.

“If I were in your place, boy, I should go forth and see what is doing at the seat of war.  I love not war for its own sake.  It is a cruel and terrible thing.  Yet there be times when it becomes a righteous thing; and methinks England is doing right to ally herself with the foes of France to crush the tyranny of that proud nation, whose king would fain be monarch of all Europe if he could.  I know not whether men untrained to arms may enlist themselves in the ranks of the great Duke of Marlborough, whose genius is winning renown for England’s sons.  But were I young, methinks I would go forth and see some of the great things that are doing in the world; and it might well be that a fine grown young fellow, with stalwart limbs, a firm seat on a horse, and a knowledge of sword play and the use of firearms, might even find a place in the ranks of the great general.  Whether or not, he would see life as he had never seen it before, and learn lessons which might make a man of him all his life.”

The prospect was attractive and exciting for Tom, who loved a fight as he loved nothing else, and who had a very exalted idea of his own prowess and skill in arms.  He could wrestle and throw better than any antagonist he had ever met, and was no novice with pistol or sword.  He had the good opinion of his powers which naturally came to one who had seldom or never found his match in his native place; and already in imagination he saw himself riding at the head of a troop of soldiers, and winning laurels on all sides by his bravery and address.

The Squire’s voice had sunk into the silence of exhaustion.  He had closed his eyes, and only opened them again after a long interval.  Their glance met that of young Tom, and the father seemed to read something of what was passing in his mind.

“Tom, lad,” he said feebly, reaching forth his hand and trying to grasp the great horny fist of his son, “strive to be humble.  Think not too well of thyself.  Seek counsel from God in all things.  Be not wise in thine own eyes.  If thou art self willed, vain, and headstrong, grief and pain will be thy lot.  Seek first the kingdom of heaven and its righteousness—­”

But here the voice failed; and Tom, his quick nature touched and sobered, rose hastily, and, with a muttered promise of quick return, threw himself out of the room, as though afraid to trust himself there longer.  He was such a stranger to keen emotion, that he fled from before it with a sense of dread.

The wife came back to her husband’s bedside.  He looked into her face and said, faintly: 

“The lad hath yet a warm heart.”

“I have always felt that,” she answered quickly.  “But oh, my husband, why send him forth to the perils of war?”