“I own that Philip saw me that night,” she said, with a self-control compelled by her perilous situation.  “He came here by stealth, and took me by surprise.  He found reason to suspect our plot, but till now I never knew ’twas really he that put the rebels on their guard.  I thought he would be too late.  ’Twas through no intention of mine that he guessed what was afoot.  I never told Tom and Bert” (these words were meant for our ears) “—­or Captain Falconer—­of his visit, for fear they might think, as you seem to, that I was to blame.  That’s all the truth, and we shall see whether Captain Falconer will believe you or me.”

Here Mr. Faringfield, whose patience at being so far ignored, though ’twas supported by the hope of receiving the desired enlightenment from their mutual speeches, was at length exhausted, put in with some severity.

“Pray, let us into these mysteries, one of you.  Margaret, what is it I hear, of a visit from Philip? of a British plot?  By heaven, if I thought—­but explain the matter, if you please.”

“I have no right to,” said she, her face more and more suffused with red. “’Tis not my secret alone; others are concerned.”

“It appears,” rejoined Mr. Faringfield, “it is a secret that abides in my house, and therefore I have a right to its acquaintance.  I command you to explain.”

“Command?” she echoed lightly, with astonishment.  “Is a married woman subject to her father’s commands?”

“An inmate of my house is subject to my commands,” he replied, betraying his hidden wrath by a dark look.

“I beg your pardon,” said she.  “That part of the house which Philip has paid, or will pay, for my living in, is my own, for the time being.  I shall go there—­”

“You shall not leave this room,” cried her father, stalking toward the door.  “You fall back upon Philip’s name.  Very well, he has delegated the care of you to me in his absence.  ’Tis time I should represent his authority over you, when I hear of your plotting against his country.”

“I have a right to be loyal to the king, above the authority of a husband.”

“If your loyalty extends to plotting against your husband’s cause, you have not the right under my roof—­or under Philip Winwood’s part of it.  I will know what this scheme is, that you have been engaged in.”

“Not from me!” said Margaret, with a resolution that gave a new, unfamiliar aspect to so charmingly feminine a creature.

“Oh, let her alone, father,” put in Ned, ludicrously ready for the faintest opportunity either to put his father under obligation or to bring down Margaret.  “I’ll be frank with you.  I’ve no reason to hide what’s past and gone.  She and Captain Falconer had a plan to make Washington a prisoner, by a night expedition from New York, and some help in our camp—­”

“Which you were to give, I see, you treacherous scoundrel!” said his father, with contempt.