Katherine turned promptly.  “Spiced ale and bread and meat give to the man, Lettice; and to Sir Thomas and Lady Swaffham remind him to take our respectful thanks.”

Hyde opened the papers with eager curiosity.  Little Joris was again with Tromp and Blake in the channel; and Katherine, remembering some household duty, left the father and son to their private enthusiasms.  She was restless and anxious, for she had one of those temperaments that love a settled and orderly life.  It would soon be spring, and there were a thousand things about the house and garden which would need her attention if they were to remain at Hyde.  If not, her anxieties in other directions would be equally numerous and necessary.  She stood at the window looking into the white garden close.  Something about it recalled her father’s garden; and she fell into such a train of tender memories that when Hyde called quickly, “Kate, Kate!” she found that there were tears in her eyes, and that it was with an effort and a sigh her soul returned to its present surroundings.

[Illustration:  “I must draw my sword again”]

Hyde was walking about the room in great excitement,—­his tall, nervous figure unconsciously throwing itself into soldierly attitudes; his dark, handsome face lit by an interior fire of sympathetic feeling.

“I must draw my sword again, Katherine,” he said, as his hand impulsively went to his left side,—­“I must draw my sword again.  I thought I had done with it forever; but, by St. George, I’ll draw it in this quarrel!”

“The American quarrel, Richard?”

“No other could so move me.  We have the intelligence now of their congress.  They have not submitted; they have not drawn back, not an inch; they have not quarrelled among themselves.  They have unanimously voted for non-importation, non-exportation, and non-consumption.  They have drawn up a declaration of their rights.  They have appealed to the sympathies of the people of Canada, and they have resolved to support by arms all their brethren unlawfully attacked.  Hurrah, Katherine!  Every good man and true wishes them well.”

“But it is treason, dear one.”

“Soh! It was treason when the barons forced the Great Charter from King John.  It was treason when Hampden fought against ‘ship-money,’ and Cromwell against Star Chambers, and the Dutchman William laid his firm hand on the British Constitution.  All revolutions are treason until they are accomplished.  We have long hesitated, we will waver no more.  The conduct of Sir Jeffrey Amherst has decided me.”

“I know it not.”

“On the 6th of this month the king offered him a peerage if he would take command of the troops for America; and he answered, ’Your majesty must know that I cannot bring myself to fight the Americans, who are not only of my own race, but to whose former kindness I am also much obliged.’  By the last mail, also, accounts have come of vast desertions of the soldiers of Boston; and three officers of Lord Percy’s regiment are among the number.  Katherine, our boy has told me this afternoon that he is half Dutch.  Why should we stay in England, then, for his sake?  We will do as Earl William advises us,—­go to America and found a new house, of which I and he will be the heads.  Are you willing?”