I had not formed my plan of taking part in the coming insurrection without many misgivings lest I should by so doing bring harm upon the Cavendishes.  But on discussing the matter in all its bearings with Major Robert Beverly, whom I had ever held to be a man of judgment, he assured me that in his opinion there could no possible ill result come to such a household of women, especially when the head of it was of such openly-avowed royalist leanings.  Unless, indeed, he admitted, the bringing over of the arms and the powder was to be traced to Mistress Mary Cavendish.  This he said, not knowing the secret of his first wife’s tomb, and I feeling, as indeed I was, an arch deceiver.  But what other course is left open to any man, when he can shield the one he loves best in the whole world only at the expense of some one else?  Can he do otherwise but let the other suffer, and even forfeit his sense of plain dealing?  I have lived to be an old man, and verily nothing hath so grown in the light of my experience as the impossibility of serving love except at a loss, not only to others, but to oneself.  But that truth of the greatest importance in the whole world hath also grown upon me, that love should be served at whatever cost.  I cared not then, and I care not now, who suffered and who was wronged, if only that beloved one was saved.

I went home that night from Barry Upper Branch riding a horse which Dick Barry lent me, on learning that I had come thither without one, though not in what mad fashion, and Sir Humphrey rode with me until our roads parted.  Much gaming was there that night after we left; we leaving the Barrys and my Lord Estes and Drake and Captain Jaynes and many others intent upon the dice, but Humphrey and I did not linger, I having naught to stake, and he having promised his mother not to play.  “Sometimes I wish that I had not so promised my mother,” he said, looking back at me over his great boyish shoulder as he rode ahead, “for sometimes I think ’tis part of the estate of a man to put up stakes at cards, and to win or lose as beseems a gentleman of Virginia and a cavalier.  But, sure, Harry, a promise to a man’s mother is not to be broke lightly, and indeed she doth ask me every night when I return late, and I shall see her face at the window when I ride in sight of the great house; but faith, Harry, I would love to win in something, if not in hearts, in a throw of the dice.  For sure I am a man grown, and have never had my own will in aught that lies near my heart.”

With that he gave a great sigh, and I striving to cheer him, and indeed loving the lad, replied that he was but young, and there was still time ahead, and the will of one’s heart required often but a short corner of turning.  But he was angry again at me for that, and cried out I knew not for all I was loved in return, the heart of a certain maid as well as he who was despised, and spurred his horse and rode on ahead, and when we had come to the division of the road, saluted me shortly, and was gone, and the sound of his galloping died away in the distance, and I rode home alone meditating.