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1 
 
" The Canadian Monthly'' Prize Tale. 
 
 COLLECTION 
 
 OF 
 
 CANADIAN AUTHORS. 
 
 For King and Country : 
 
 A Story oi' 1812, 
 
 By a. M. M., 
 
 Author <i/ '^ Katie Johtistime'x Cross," d-'r. 
 
 TORONTO : 
 
 ADAM, STEVENSON «fi CO 
 1874. 
 
^i" 
 
 Entered accoriitHg to Act of the Parliau.eut of Canada, in the year 
 One Thousand Eight Hundred and Seventy-four, by Adam, 
 Sthvknson & Co., in tfu Office of the Minister of Agriculture, 
 
 Bhi.i. & Co., 
 
 Printers, 
 
 Toronto. 
 
Zo ^11 ^[ottng ^anabians 
 
 This Talk is Dedicated, 
 
 /;/ t/ie hope that the memories which it records 
 
 may stimulate them to endeavour^ in the 
 
 strength of that righteousness which 
 
 alone exalteth a nation^ to make 
 
 the future of Canada 
 
 abundantly worthy 
 
 of its past. 
 
A 
 
 time 
 rich< 
 have 
 The 
 tears 
 sun 
 pearl 
 sunb 
 glistc 
 Starr 
 upon 
 
FOR KING AND COUNTRY 
 
 A STORY OF 1812, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 AN AFTERNOON SIXTY YEARS AGO. 
 
 "This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks, 
 Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight, 
 Stand, like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic." 
 
 A SO FT, balmy afternoon in the beginning of June, 
 just in that sweet hopeful season when the spring- 
 time, with its blossoms of promise, is passing into the 
 richer bloom of the early summer ; — there could scarcely 
 have been a fairer day for exploring the "forest primeval." 
 The forenoon had been slightly showery, wavering between 
 tears and smiles; now the smiles had conquered, and the 
 sun shone softly out between the tender-tinted gray and 
 pearly clouds that dappled a sky of purest blue. The 
 sunbeanis, seeming the brighter for the preceding rain, 
 glistened on the wet glossy leaves of the " May," that 
 starred the forest depths with its snowy blossoms, and 
 upon the bright scarlet columbines that nodded among the 
 
FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 ferns, which clustered in nook and cranny of the lichened 
 rocks, here and there cropping out from the wooded ridge 
 that rose by the wayside. Farther off, they flickered in a 
 golden network in the winding vistas that occasionally 
 opened to view some of the dim forest recesses, which 
 might well tempt a dreamy, poetic wanderer to penetrate 
 depths so lonely, so untrodden, — where the jarring noises 
 of the world are silent, — where carking cares might be 
 forgotten, —where still the Great Spirit might speak, as of 
 old, to his Indian children, in the soft rustling of the leaves 
 and the soughing of the breezes, which seem caught and 
 embodied in the melancholy, musical cadences of the 
 Indian tongue. 
 
 But reality is sometimes stronger than romance, and 
 the passengers of the lumbering waggon, by courtesy 
 styled a "stage,'' which carried persons and goods be- 
 tween York and Newark,* on the primitive road, in the 
 year 1812, were more keenly conscious of the drawbacks 
 of the mode of locomotion than of the " impulse of a 
 vernal wood;" — sundry sensations reminding them un- 
 comfortably that they were composed of matter as well as 
 spirit, and had other organs than eyes and ears. Not 
 that the mosquitoes, the great scourge of the Canadian 
 woods, were as yet in full force ; only an occasional skir- 
 
 • Note.— Newark was the name given to what is now the town of 
 Niagara, at the mouth of the Niagara river, Fort George was situate4 
 lil^ut half a mile above the village, 
 
AN AFTERNOON SIXTY YEARS AGO. | 
 
 misher or two of the advanced guard hinted what they 
 would be ere long. Bul the road ! Prettily as it wound 
 up and down, through dell and ravine, past the wood- 
 crowned heights that rose beside it, it was a weary way, 
 nevertheless, to those who sat on the hard seats of the 
 springless waggon, as it swayed and bumped at a tedious 
 pace over ruts and stones and long stretches of corduroy 
 bridges that crossed the wayside " creeks," or the black 
 moist intervals of otherwise impassable bog which nour- 
 ished such rich, waving ferns, and such a luxuriant vege- 
 tation, and were altogether so inviting and so dec^'itful. 
 
 The passengers of the stage driven by John Wardle on 
 that particular day of June, 1812, were as dissimilar in the 
 traits that make up the outward man as in the more im- 
 portaut characteristics which constitute the inner one. 
 The one who sat beside the driver, and who would at first 
 sight have attracted most notice, was unmistakeably a 
 British officer in undress uniform. He might have been 
 recognised as such, even without the military accoutre- 
 ments, the clanking spurs, the sword, the military cap with 
 the figures "41," denoting the regiment to which he be- 
 longed. As unmistakeably did his English birth appear in 
 the fair though sunburnt complexion, the chestnut hair 
 with its broken gleams of gold, the clearly cut, refined 
 features, and the bright, keen, grey-blue eye which, if it 
 seemed a trifie cold, could take in so much at a glance. 
 There was perhaps a slight haughtiness of expression about 
 
4 FOR KTNO AND COUNTRY. 
 
 the curved lips, bespeaking a certain amount of pride in 
 the stinj^re aztil of the olil English rice, combined, at the 
 present moment, with an expression of discontent deeper 
 than the mere discomforts of the journey could have 
 called forth; while he occasionally glanced wistfully back 
 at the handsome bay steed which, walking slightly lame, 
 docilely followed the stage of its own accord, but with a 
 sort of mute protest in its intelligent face, that wore as 
 marked an expression of disgust as an equine physiog- 
 nomy can. 
 
 The seats next in rear of the driver were occupied by 
 a sharp- visaged, shabbily-dressed man, whose intonation 
 and style of expression indicated plainly enough that he 
 hailed from the other side of the line ; and by a saturnine, 
 sallow-complexioned individual of slender build, who 
 spoke with a broad Scotch accent, and whose general 
 aspect, combined with the air of dissatisfaction and inci- 
 pient radicalism that characterized his occasional remarks, 
 would have proclaimed him either a tailor or a shoemaker, 
 while the packages of leather beside him showed to which 
 of the two sedentary crafts he belonged. 
 
 Next to these sat a farmer and his wife, clad in stout 
 home-spun, the former with a cheerful, wrinkled, weather- 
 beaten face, that looked as if he had seen many a day of 
 tough, honest toil, and bright watchful eyes, that gleamed 
 out from under their grey pent-houses of eyebrow with an 
 expression that led one instinctively to trust him ; and 
 
AN AFTERNOON SIXTY YKARS AGO. 
 
 I 
 
 the other with a gentle, placid countenance, half hidden 
 behind the snowy cap-frills and the grey Quaker bonnet 
 that shaded it. They were accompanied by sundry large 
 packages of groceries and other household necessaries, 
 which they had been laying in at the nearest village, and 
 the gentle voice of the old woman was occasionally em- 
 ployed in quietinj.^ the restlessness of a pair of fowls of an 
 improved breed which she was carryinj^ home to her own 
 poultry yard. 
 
 On the last seat of all sat a quiet, commercial-looking 
 man, a Newark "store-keeper," who had been travelling 
 on business ; and beside him, shrinking shyly into the 
 farthest corner of the seat, a squaw, her dark eyes gleam- 
 ing, half-frightened, out of her blanket, or bent down in 
 maternal tenderness over the swaddled papoose that lay 
 in its primitive wooden cradle on her knee. Notwith- 
 standing the occasional friendly overtures of the good 
 woman in front of her, who was drawn towards her by 
 feminine and maternal sympathies, she looked solitary 
 and sad, like a bird of strange feather among an alien 
 race. 
 
 Among so heterogeneous a party, so placed, there could 
 be but little general conversation, and the talk limited it- 
 self chiefly to an interchange of inquiries and laconic 
 replies between the keen-visaged American and his Scotch 
 fellow-traveller, and to th-^ desultory remarks that passed 
 between the English officer and the driver, who still spoke 
 
i I 
 
 6 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 with a strong south-country accent, and who, loquacious 
 in any case, was evidently delighted with the chance of 
 talking so familiarly to one of His Majesty's officers. 
 
 "And this is supposed to be an inn?" exclaimed the 
 ofiicer. The jaded horses were drawing up, of their own 
 accord, before a rough log cabin, flanked by a rude driv- 
 ing shed, with a primitive pump, and a long log hollowed 
 out for a horse-trough, in front. A stick, placed upright in 
 a stump before the door, bore an inscription, which, after 
 some study, could be resolved into the name of " Barney 
 Finnigan," and the intimation below that " wiskey and 
 tabacky " were to be had within. Two or three chubby, 
 barefooted children were rolling about in a puppy-like 
 fashion among the tall grass and weeds by the way-side, 
 and a lazy-looking Irishman, in home-spun shirt, with hands 
 plunged into the pockets of his dilapidated breeches, 
 stood leaning in the open doorway smoking a short pipe 
 
 "Yes, yer honour;" replied John ; "and handy enough 
 it comes for the poor beasts, though it beant much like 
 our Red Lion at home, where my father used to have his 
 pipe and his mug o' beer wnen I was a boy ! Hallo, 
 Barney ! — taking it easy, as usual }" 
 
 " Shure, an' isn't it the best thing a craythur can do ? 
 An' it's glad I am to see yez. An hour beyant time, John 
 Wardle ! An' 'twas meself thought yez must have broken 
 down. An' it's dry the poor bastes is lookin' — the 
 craytburs 1" 
 
An AFTEkNOOi* SiXtY YEARS AGO. 7 
 
 " Got a heavy load in to-day, Barney, that's how it is," 
 said John, as he began to take out the horses to water, 
 and give them a short rest out of harness. Meantime 
 the passengers got out, too, to rest themselves by a change 
 of posture. The stout farmer helped out his wife, and 
 then kindly offered to assist the squaw to dismount. As 
 he did so, a tall, good-looking Indian, in a deer-skin tunic, 
 with a rifle on his shoulder, who had been waiting, un- 
 observed, in the shadow of the forest, gravely came for- 
 ward, and after a few words had been exchanged with 
 great apparent san^-froid and indifference, the two 
 walked silently away, — the Indian shouldering the woman's 
 little bundle, and the squaw her papoose. 
 
 The officer, whose baggage denoted his proper destina- 
 tion to be "Francis Percival, Captain H. M. 41st Foot," 
 was meantime leading his horse also to water, and his 
 interested gaze followed the silent, grave couple as they 
 retreated. 
 
 " Strange folk yon," said John, who stood close by, 
 undoing straps and bearing reins. " You'll never see 
 them smile or look pleased about anything ! Now, that 
 fellow would be shot before he'd let a soul see he was 
 pleased to get his wife and child back !" 
 
 " Do they live about here r asked the Captain. 
 
 "Oh, he's one of the General's Indian warriors — a 
 chief, and one he trusts a good deal ; — and they've a camp 
 not far off. She's been away among her people on Lake 
 
8 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 il 
 
 l\ I 
 
 i 
 
 Erie ; he's never seen the young 'un before, but he wouldn't 
 seem to want to look at it before hus ; not but what he's 
 like some English folk I've seen ;" added John, with a half 
 deprecatory glance at the officer, as if to see whether he 
 had gone too far. 
 
 Captain Percival, however, only smiled slightly at the 
 idea of extremes meeting in English and Indian impassive- 
 ness. The smile quickly passed away, and the discon- 
 tented, almost sad expression returned, as he stroked his 
 charger's glossy flanks. 
 
 " Hector, poor fellow !" he said, as he watched the 
 thirsty animal drink, " this is something new for you ! 
 You're not used to roads like these ," and he gently took 
 up the lame foot to examine it. 
 
 " A splendid animal," said John, still lingering n^'ar. 
 " We uon't often see the likes of him ! Pretty nigh thor- 
 ough-bred, ain't he now ?" queried he, with an appreciative 
 air, as he surveyed the clean, slender fetlocks, the graceful 
 flanks and arching neck. 
 
 " Yes, he comes of a good stock ; but he looks rather 
 a different horse from what he did when he left England. 
 He had a rough time of it at sea ; — that gave his foot a 
 twist, and your rough Canadian roads have made it worse." 
 
 " Oh, it'll soon come all right again, yer honour," said 
 John, as he went off" for his talk and smoke with Barney; 
 while Captain Percival, not inclined to accept the off"er of 
 " wiskey and tobacky," and preferring the sweet open air, 
 
AN AFTERNOON SIXTY YEARS AGO. 
 
 laden with forest fragrance, to the close atniosphere of the 
 " inn," sat down with folded arms on a mossy log, under a 
 spreading maple, whose fallen tasselled blossoms strewed 
 the ground around him. His depressed air and contracted 
 brow saowed that his meditations were not specially 
 agreeable, and if his inward soliloquy had found expres- 
 sion, it would have run somewhat in this wise :— 
 
 " So this is the way I've got to serve my king and 
 country ! Bumping over logs and through marshes, 
 among savages and wildernesses ; to be buried alive in 
 these out-of-the-way backwoods, just when Europe's all 
 astir, and there are such grand opportunities for winning 
 honour and promotion ! It is hard upon a man, after being 
 disabled so long, and dreaming of real work and glory, to 
 be out here in this sort of exile. If I had only been in the 
 45th now, with Harry Dacre and Jack Hunsden and the 
 rest of them, I might at this moment be with Lord Wel- 
 Hngton in Spain ; and won't they have a grand time of it !" 
 
 Captain Percival was joining, for the first time, his 
 regiment in Canada. The injuries occasioned by a fall 
 from his horse in hunting had caused a long period of 
 forced inactivity, and detained him unwillingly at home on 
 sick leave. But, now that he was again fit for active duty, 
 it was only with great reluctance, and after several unsuc- 
 cessful endeavors to exchange into a regiment more likely 
 to see service in Europe, that he had yielded to circum- 
 stances, and come to what was considered little better than 
 
ro 
 
 FOR King and country. 
 
 J 
 
 H I 
 
 lii 
 
 ii 
 
 a howling wilderness — a country of Hyperboreans and 
 bears. 
 
 Captain Percival continued to chew the cud of dis- 
 quieting meditation till John Wardle returned to his horses' 
 heads, and his fellow-passengers prepared to resume their 
 seats. The ** Yankee," however, who had been partaking 
 of Barney Finnigan's hospitalities, including the " wiskey," 
 removed from under hi" seat his small bundle, tied up in a 
 blue bandanna, and saying he " calculated he'd be nearer 
 his journey's end if he walked on from here," disappeared 
 by the same cross-path which the Indian couple had fol- 
 lowed. Captain Percival, as he sprang last into his seat 
 beside the driver, found the others exchanging suspicious 
 surmises respecting their late fellow-traveller. 
 
 " I don't like the cut of his figure head much,^' re- 
 marked John, shaking his grizzled head; "we've had more 
 than one such customer of late, and it's all 1 can do to 
 keep from coUarin' them, with their brag about * beatin' 
 the Britishers,* and their eternal questions." 
 
 " Ay ! ay ! that chap '11 no lose his way for want o' askin 
 it," interposed the saturnine Scotchman — Davie Watson 
 by name, — " an' his business is no all aboveboard, I'll be 
 boun' ! What do ye say, Maister Thurstane ? ye'U hae 
 seen lads like yon befora i*" 
 
 The keen eyes of the old farmer had taken steady 
 measure of the stranger. His reply was quiet, half- 
 careless : — 
 
AN AFTItRNOON StXTV YEARS AGO. 
 
 tt 
 
 disappeared i 
 
 " It is easy to see he's after no good, whatever his 
 errand is. Pity there's no law to take up such fellows as 
 vagrants." 
 
 " Do you think the fellow's a spy ?" inquired Captain 
 Percival, roused from his listlessness to some interest in 
 the conversation, and .iddressing the farmer. 
 
 Jacob Thurstane took a pinch of snufif before he re- 
 plied : — " Well, it's not my way to say things I can't prove; 
 but I'd be sorry to give him any news I could help giving. 
 They're sharp fellows, those Yankees, and they're sure to 
 have their eyes open for anything they can find out just 
 now." 
 
 " Do you think they really mean fight, then ?" 
 
 " Mean it ? Yes ! and we'll see it before long, sir, sure 
 as my name's Tliurstane. Hasn't the storm been brewing 
 these five years and more — ever since the Leopard raked 
 down the Chesapeake ? Thc^t was an ugly business, and 
 the Yankees have never forgotten it ; and what the folk at 
 home are about, not to see the breakers ahead, I can't 
 make out." 
 
 Well, they're having rather a lively time of it in Europe, 
 you know, with Boney and all the rest. It isn't easy for 
 them to keep their eyes everywhere," said Captain Per- 
 cival with a half sigh. 
 
 "Na," said the Scotch shoe-maker, grimly, "they'll 
 never see it till the meeschief s done. Then they'll mak 
 ootcry enough, and rin to * steek the stable door when the 
 
IS 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 ill 
 
 i|!' 
 
 i 
 
 steed's stown.' They'll open their eyes a wee, by and by, 
 when they fin' they've lost this gran' province, just by no 
 takin' tent in time !" 
 
 " Davie Watson," returned the yeoman, indignantly, 
 " don't you ever say such a word again. Lose this pro- 
 vince, indeed, — while there's many a brave yeoman in it 
 will give his heart's blood socner than see the Stars and 
 Stripes waving over it ! Yes, sir," he continued, turning to 
 Percival, " its not idle brag with me. I left as fine a farm 
 and homestead as a man would want to see, behind me in 
 the valley of the Connecticut, and came here, nigh thirty 
 years ago now, to fell the trees with my own hands to 
 build a log cabin to bring my wife into, sooner than to part 
 company with the Union Jack ! That was about as hard 
 a thing to do as I'm like to have to do again ; but I'm 
 ready, and my sons are ready, too, sir, to turn out to-mor- 
 row and shoulder a musket for the old flag still. And 
 there's hundreds, aye, and thousands, '11 do the same 
 throughout the province ! But, all the same, they might 
 back us up better at home." 
 
 Percival's somewhat cold blue eyo had lighted up a 
 little at the enthusiasm of ths old farmer, and he replied 
 soothingly : — 
 
 " So they would, I'm sure, if they realized the danger. 
 You know they have a good deal to think about just now ; 
 but England might well be proud to know what brave, 
 loyal subjects she has over here. I've not a doubt but 
 
AN AFTERNOON SIXTY YEARS AGO. 
 
 13 
 
 they're able to keep the country for her, with what help we 
 rej^Iars can give, even in the event of a sudden attack." 
 
 ** Ay, may be ; sma' thanks to her then, when our gude 
 blood's been spilt to keep it," grumbled Davie. 
 
 "Wait till your blood's been shed, Davie," remarked 
 the farmer, good-naturedly, but with significance. 
 
 *' If England only knew her own interest," said the 
 Newark shopkeeper, who had hitherto listened in silence 
 to the conversation, " she'd give a little more thought to 
 her property over here. It's always been the way since 
 she had any on this side the Atlantic. Folks at home 
 wouldn'; even take the trouble to see how the land lay, and 
 what should be done. The Boston tea troubles were all of 
 a piece with the rest, and a nice piece of work they made 
 of that. And then, how they've bungled our boundary line 
 for us ! Any one, that looks at the lie of the land on the 
 map even, could tell we should have had Maine, at least, 
 on our side, to say nothing of Detroit and that country. 
 But the Yankees were wide awake, and the folks at home 
 were half asleep — that's about how it was." 
 
 "Tak' care, Maioter Martin," said Davie with grim 
 satire ; "gin ye gang on at this gait, ye'll be ta'en up for a 
 rebel, and mavbe confiscated and sold out while ye're in 
 gaol, like puir Sandy McTavish." 
 
 " You're more likely to be taken up yourself, as far as 
 th<iL ;.,^oes," was the retort. 
 
 '' Deed, not 1 ; a puir shoemaker wi' nae gear but my 
 
n 
 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 
 14 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 last and a wheen hides. Na, neither the sheriff nor his 
 understrappers '11 covet anything in Davie Watson's 
 shop," he replied scornfully. 
 
 " Then look how we're kept down for want of capital," — 
 the trader went on, seeming pleased to get his grievances 
 ventilated on one who, for the time being, appeared to 
 represent the delinquent British nation. " If we only had 
 a little of the capital they sink in peppering the French, 
 or even of what they spend among our neighbours over 
 there, helping to enrich our enemies, we could get on, 
 and clear our land, and make roads, and raise such crops 
 as would astonish them. Aye, if they had but taken 
 thought in time, they might have raised enough wheat 
 out here to feed the famishing folk that broke in the 
 windows of the bakers' shops when they found themselves 
 starving ; and might have saved themselves the law 
 about brown bread, too." 
 
 The discussion was getting too warm for the officer, 
 who did not relish the attacks from which he found it 
 difficult to defend his country, in regard to matters, too, 
 of which he found himself very ignorant. He was glad of 
 an opportunity that presented itself for making a diver- 
 sion, when the driver, handing him the reins, sprang 
 from his seat in front of a hawthorn in full bloom, and 
 broke off some large boughs, with which he proceeded to 
 decorate the horses' heads. 
 
 " What's that for, John ? " he inquired. 
 
AN AFrERNOON SIXTY YEARS AGO. 1 5 
 
 ** For His Majest/s birthday," replied John. " ThU 
 
 [is the day, you know, and this is the way the horses used 
 
 I to coom into the Red Lion at Ashford ; and the Major 
 
 hkes to see it still, — that's Major Meredith, you know. 
 
 We'll be at * The Elms ' in a jiflFy." 
 
 " Ah," said Captain Percival, " I thought it was about 
 time we should be getting near there. That's my halting- 
 place for to-night." 
 
 " Oh, then, your honour knows him," — said John, with 
 great interest. "* 
 
 "No, I have never met him," was the reply; "but 
 he's one of my father's oldest friends. My baggage can 
 go on to Newark, all but my valise and that small box, 
 which is Miss Meredith's property. I suppose the 
 Major's pretty sure to be at home ? " 
 
 " That he is, sir, for this is trainin' day, you know, and 
 the Major's a great hand for keeping the volunteers in 
 drill. The fellows about here '11 stand fire with any in 
 the country. And will your honour be going on with 
 us next trip ? " inquired John, unwilling to part company 
 with his military passenger. 
 
 " Oh, I shall go on in a day or so ; but I hope 
 Hector's foot will be well enough to carry me the rest 
 of the way, and then I shall be independent of wheels." 
 
 "All the better for your honour ; and when you get to the 
 Major's you won't be leaving it in a hurry. He's mighty 
 glad to see ^^entlemen of the army, is the Major, as well 
 
ti 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRV. 
 
 he might be, bein', as he was, such a good soldier 
 himself. I served with him, sir, all through the American 
 war, and was his body-servant till I left the army. And 
 when he left it, he bought my discharge and brought me 
 here with him ; and many a day I've worked with him 
 at felling the big trees to build his first log-house. And I 
 helped to lay the foundation of the new one, and a real 
 foine house it is as any in these parts. So when I'd served 
 my time out in hard work, and was beginning to want a 
 little rest, he got me this job, as something lighter, though 
 your honour does think it hard work goin' over the 
 stumps. But he 'most always comes to have a word with 
 me when I'm passin'. And Miss Lilias — there isn't the 
 likes of her in these parts, so straight and so slim, just 
 like het mother as died nigh twenty years ago now, and 
 she do allays have a word for her old friend as has 
 carried her round the fields many a day." 
 
 "Ah ! that's the young lady I'm bringing out the box 
 for, I suppose." 
 
 " Yes, there's only one, sir. She's been away at York 
 on a visit, and the Major only brought her home a couple 
 of days ago. She'll be with him at the trainin' to-day, 
 for she allays goes about with him on her gray pony, 
 wherever he goes. There, I hear the bugle now, and like 
 enough we'll be at the Major's by the time he gets home." 
 
 It was not long before the stage emerged into a 
 comparatively open country, along the foot of the wooded 
 
 iK.iL 
 
AN AFTERNOON SIXTY YEARS AGO. 
 
 t? 
 
 ridge that still rose above the road on their right ; while 
 
 Ito the left, beyond partially cleared fields, stretched the 
 
 [calm expanse of the lake, sleeping softly, blue as the 
 
 Mediterranean, in the afternoon light. The curve of the 
 
 coast could be partially discerned, and the line of the 
 
 'distant horizon melted softly into the dissolving gray and 
 
 blue cloud tints. The free, wide expanse of water seemed 
 
 to refresh the tired travellers almost like a glimpse of 
 
 the sea. After passing two or three clearings, each with 
 
 its rough log hut and barns, the fields grew noticeably 
 
 more fertile, and free from the black stumps so obnoxious 
 
 to an English eye ; and John pointed out with pride 
 
 " the Major's farm." 
 
 "And there's the house;" he added, indicating the 
 place where a pretty large and substantial stone house 
 was dimly to be seen behind a luxuriant orchard, laden 
 with its pinky bloom. " They call it the 'big house' here- 
 about, for it's a good bit bigger than any in these 
 parts, but the Major calls it ' The Elms.' " 
 
 The name did not seem inappropriate, for at the gate 
 leading from the road into the shrubbery in front of the 
 house, two majestic elms, with round massive heads, whose 
 long pendants drooped gracefully almost to the ground, 
 towered hke warders over the entrance. Behind them, 
 weeping willows drooped beside maples and acacias, 
 between which a straight walk led up to the open door, 
 with its cool pillared porch festooned with Virginia 
 
' It 
 
 I 
 
 
 it''* I 
 h : 
 
 
 m FOR KINO AND COUNTRY. 
 
 Creeper, which spread its clinging arms high over wall 
 and window. A plain square house it was, with windows 
 comparatively small, as was the fashion of those days, 
 but looking home-like and substantial — a place for family 
 life to develop and run smoothly in, from childhood to 
 old age. Behind it, towards the lake, were more bowery 
 orchard trees in bloom, and on the farther side, a luxuriant 
 garden extended its thriving rows of vegetables — inter- 
 spersed with the substantial old spring flowers, such as 
 columbines, peonies, heart's ease, that are not apt to be 
 ashamed, like the modern summer flowers, to flourish 
 in the company of neighbours more useful than ornamen- 
 tal. . A little in the background were the substantial 
 barns and stables, some of them being the original log 
 buildings first put up for that purpose. 
 
 As the stage approached the gate, Percival could 
 distinguish two equestrians advancing rapidly from the 
 opposite direction, one of them being apparently a robust 
 elderly gentleman, riding with an upright military air, 
 and the other the slight, graceful figure of a young lady 
 in a dark blue riding habit. 
 
 " The Major and his daughter, I suppose ? " said he. 
 "The young lady trots well; better than most English girls." 
 
 "Aye, that she do! You see, she rides so much with 
 her father that she has learned to ride at his pace, as well 
 as he does himself, and that's saying a good deal ! He 
 sees us, and he'll stop till we come up, you'll see, sir." 
 
AN AFTERNOON SIXTY YEARS AGO. 
 
 >9 
 
 As he spoke, "the Major" dismounted, opened the 
 gate for his daughter to pass in, and while she cantered 
 round by a side avenue to the stables, her father, leaning 
 against the gate post, waited for the stage to draw up at 
 the gate, to make his usual inquiries concerning the latest 
 news ; unaware of the unexpected visitor that the lumber- 
 ing conveyance was bringin-- him. 
 
10 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 ii 
 
 i!'! 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A TETE-A-TETE. 
 
 " The floating clouds their state shall lend 
 To her : for her the willow bend ; 
 *■ Nor shall she fail to see, 
 
 E'en in the motions of the storm, 
 ("■race that shall mould the maiden's form 
 By silent sympathy." 
 
 UNDER the flickering shadow of the apple trees that 
 extended from the side to the rear of the "big 
 house," <i black boy, with laughing eyes and gleaming 
 white teeth, stood waiting to take "Miss Lilias' " pony. 
 He had surreptitiously left his field work more than an 
 hour before, to hang around in readiness for this import- 
 ant duty. ' 
 
 "Well, Sambo, how has Aunt Judy been getting on 
 since I have been away ?" inquired the young lady, as she 
 sprang lightly to the ground. 
 
 " Oh, fust rate. Miss Lilias, only for the rheumatiz ; 
 and her tea and sugar's been done this while back. She's 
 been takin' on to see you again." 
 
 "I intend to go to see her this very afternoon," Miss 
 Lilias replied, as, gathering up her long riding skirt, she 
 
A TETE-A-TETE. 
 
 21 
 
 passed on to the wide open house-door, in front of which 
 an old wolf-hound lay stretched, too sleepy to do more 
 than wag his tail in response to his mistress' greeting as 
 she passed him. 
 
 Just within the open doorway, an elderly woman sat 
 knitting,, dressed in a sort of tartan home-spun, a blue 
 checked apron, a snowy kerchief neatly folded over her 
 shoulders, and a wide-frilled cap as snowy as the kerchief. 
 The keen dark eyes surveyed the young lady through 
 their spectacles, with a half deferential, half protective 
 expression. 
 
 " You'll be tired, Miss Lilias dear, ridin' about all the 
 afternoon. Just gang awa' noo, and rest yersel' till the 
 tea's ready." 
 
 " Oh, I'm not a bit tired, Nannie," replied the clear, 
 fresh young voice, " and I'm going before tea to see poor 
 old Aunt Judy ; I know she'll be looking for me every 
 day, now she knows I've come home, and I want to take 
 her the things I brought her from York. I'll be back in 
 good time for tea." 
 
 The girl's light figure speedily disappeared round the 
 sharp angle of the steep staircase. Her plain, white-cur- 
 tained chamber looked towards the back of the house, 
 across the orchard and two or three fields, to the blue 
 lake beyond. If it cont.iined little of modern luxury, it 
 had fresh air, snowy linen, sweet fragrance wafted in at 
 open windows festooned by the waving tendrils of the 
 
i: 
 
 ■ill 
 
 2i 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 Virginia Creeper, — as well as certain of the little tasteful 
 •arrangements with which a maiden usually likes to adorn 
 her chamber. I he little still old-fashioned toilet-table 
 was brightened by some dainty relics of an older world 
 and age : — a little hand-mirror set in ivory, a silver pounce 
 box, a quaintly carved sandal-wood fan, contrasted 
 strangely with (he otherwise simple appointments. Above 
 the little mirror, fancifully decorated with peacock's feath- 
 ers. hung, suspended by a blue ribbon, a small oval min- 
 iature, delicately painted on ivory, and as the girl stood 
 before the glass unfastening her riding habit with nimble 
 fingers, the face in the mirror and that on the ivory might 
 have seemed, at a careless glance, the same. There was 
 the same candid, open brow, framed by the same arch of 
 soft, dark chestnut hair; the same clearly-cut, refined 
 features and delicate profile; the same finely-pencilled 
 arched eyebrows, and graceful droop of eyelid, half veil- 
 ing the same clear, trustful grey eyes, and the same soft 
 curves of lip and chin. But the resemblance was with a 
 difference, if the observer looked more closely. The 
 appearance of excessive delicacy and fragility which char- 
 acterised the portrait was not nearly to the same extent 
 perceptible in the living face, on which the extreme fair- 
 ness and faint bloom of the picture were replaced by tints 
 more suggestive of health and freshness; the dark shade 
 beneath the eyes of the pictured face, symptomatic of ill- 
 health or sorrow, was absent from the girl's brighter coun- 
 
A TETE-A-TETE. 
 
 23 
 
 tenance, and the latter wore her hair dressed in a much 
 simpler fashion than that of the portrait, which, with its 
 elaborate loops and puffings, belonged to an earlier period. 
 The curves of the mouth, though as sweet, were stronger 
 in the face of the girl, and without the wistful sadness 
 which gave a touch of pathos to the picture, and the lines 
 of the chin of the flesh and blood maiden had an air of 
 strength and resolution about them quite wanting from the 
 painted ivoiy. Moreover, the rounded figure of the girl 
 — slenderly built though it was — had a firm elasticity about 
 it that could never have belonged to the original of the 
 portrait, — Lilias Meredith's fair young mother, — who, 
 transplanted to a rough and uncongenial atmosphere, had 
 drooped and died some twenty years before, — in the wild 
 Canadian home which had never seemed a home to her. 
 But Lilias, unconscious of privations the reverse of which 
 she had never known, and inheriting a portion of her 
 father's stronger nature, had grown up in her free, open 
 country life, faithfully tended by the old confidential ser- 
 vant who had come with her mother from her Scottish 
 home; and the petted and constant companion of her 
 father, both at home and abroad ; blossoming into a wo- 
 manhood as vigorous in its apparent fragility as the grace- 
 ful Canadian columbine that bloomed on her native rocks. 
 It was not long before Lilias, having exchanged her 
 riding habit for a nankeen walking dress and broad- 
 brimmed hat tied with a blue ribbon, had set out with her 
 
 ^ 
 
34 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY 
 
 
 m 
 
 I, 
 
 ih 
 
 '■J ' 
 
 fj 
 ■ ■] 
 
 'a , 
 
 Mil 
 
 small store of luxuries for Aunt Judy, by a little meadow- 
 path that led from the back of the house, and was a com- 
 paratively short cut to the old woman's cabin, close by the 
 lake shore. She was not aware, as yet, of the impending 
 visitor, with whom her father, still in the first eager flow 
 of questions and replies, vvas leisurely sauntering along 
 the road to the inn, — a slight improvement on the last 
 one ; — there to have a final word with John Wardle, and 
 treat him to a foaming mug of ale, as a reward for the 
 welcome guest he had brought him. Sambo, meantime, 
 whose quick eye had espied the arrival, was leading the 
 horses up the avenue to the stables, with many a glance 
 of admiration at the graceful proportions r.nd proudly 
 arching neck of the stranger's steed. 
 
 The meadow-path which Lilias had taken led her past 
 the rear of the churchyard surrounding the little church 
 of rough stone, which Major Meredith had had erected 
 for occasional sermons and weekly services held in it, but 
 partly, it must be admitted, from a desire thus to conse- 
 crate, in the way that seemed to him most appropriate, 
 the ground which contained the precious dust whose mem- 
 ory was still so dear to him. The same unavowed motive 
 had led him to plant the acacias and weeping willows, 
 through whose branches the soft summer breeze sighed 
 over the few soft green mounds that suggested the idea of 
 a deep, quiet, unbroken repose. Lilias loved the place 
 well; it was one of her favourite haunts, with its atmos- 
 
 iif 
 
H 
 
 A TETE-A-TETE. 
 
 25 
 
 
 phere of peaceful seclusion, and its outlook kcross the 
 green meadows to the blue, sleeping lake. She had not 
 been there since her return, and she found herself, almost 
 without knowing it, turning in at the little private gate, and 
 tracing the familiar path that led to the wide flat stone, 
 already somewhai; time-worn, which recorded the death of 
 " LiHas Ramsay, the beloved wife of Henry Meredith, 
 Major, &c., &c., who died May 30, 1794." 
 
 Lilias sat down upon the broad stone, tracing out the 
 inscription, now becoming a Httle broken and indistinct, 
 iind wiping the dust off it with her handkerchief, as she had 
 done so many and many a time throughout her orphaned 
 childhood, while she vainly tried to fancy how her life 
 would have been altered had the mother whose dust lay 
 below been spared to her. At last she started from her 
 reverie with a sigh, and, glancing wistfully around her at 
 the sweet, confused mingling of sunny verdure and flicker- 
 ing shadow, and distant blue of sky and lake, she prepared 
 to depart, when a movement near her made her turn to 
 see that she was not the only visitor to the churchyard. 
 The other was a young man, very plainly dressed, but 
 with an uhmistakeable air of refinement and cultivation 
 about him which would at once have distinguished him 
 from any of the Oakridge rustics, who had for some time 
 been leaning against a tombstone at a little distance, 
 watching the maiden's reverie, which he seemed half im- 
 patient, half reluctant to disturb. He now came rapidly 
 
I 
 
 2^ 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRV. 
 
 forward, a glad smile of recognition lighting up the ex- 
 pressive dark eyes that formed the most noticeable feature 
 in a face rather thin and care-worn for its youth, and 
 whose general expression was a grave and thoughtful, — 
 almost a sad one. 
 
 " Mr. Ernest ! I didn't know you were at Oakridge !" 
 said Lilias, acknowledging his greeting with a smile almost 
 as bright as his own. 
 
 "Having two days' holiday," replied the young man, "I 
 couldn't help coming home ; and hearing that you had 
 come home too, I was on my way to welcome you back, 
 when I turned in here to pay my visit too ;" and the smile 
 gave place to the grave expression it had dispelled, as he 
 slightly turned his head toward the small grave-stone be- 
 side which he had been standing. 
 
 " Yes ! home would hardly seem home without this 
 spot," — replied Lilias, in a subdued tone. 
 
 " Strange ! that there seems to be so much where there 
 is so little ; — when one knows that they are not there at 
 all ; — when there is no response, however one may want 
 help or sympathy ;" said the young man with a weary, 
 despondent air, in striking contrast with the animation he 
 had shown a few moments before. 
 
 " Yes ! only we know there is always help and sym- 
 pathy from where they are ! " repUed the girl, reverently, 
 yet half shyly. " But you seem tired. Did you walk over?" 
 
 -' Yes, of course ; but that needn't have knocked me 
 
 I 
 
A TETE-A-TETE. 
 
 ^1 
 
 up. I'm a tolerably good walker, you know, and I broke 
 the journey; — did half last evening and half this morning. 
 I started before tho boys had got done hurrahing for their 
 holiday. It made mc envy them, and look back with a 
 sort of regret to the time when I should have hurrahed too 
 for such a cause !" 
 
 " As if you were not really Iiappicr now, with so much 
 more capacity for enjoying, and so many far higher things 
 to enjoy !" 
 
 " Well, those two things may be granted, and yet the 
 happiness not follow. But I suppose I am a little fagged. 
 Teaching is a wearing thing after one has had a good wb.ile 
 of it, and I feel worried, often, that I can't go on with my 
 own studies as I should like. But I hope you have been 
 happy, and have enjoyed your visit ! You ate looking 
 well ;" — and the smile again chased away the gravity. 
 
 " Yes, I had a very pleasant visit, on the whole, except 
 for the York mud, which is frightful ; and it isn't nearly as 
 nice a place, take it all in all, as dear old Oakridge ; 
 though they laugh at us there as ' backwoods.' But every 
 one was very kind, from General Brock downwards. Oh ! 
 he is splendid, I think ; only of course he was away a good 
 deal of the time. I suppose you often see him at Newark." 
 
 " Yes, his tall figure is pretty famiUar there, riding 
 about on his gray charger. A splendid rider he is too ; 
 and a fine soldierly-looking man. The Newark people 
 respect and love him thoroughly." 
 
28 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 " So does every one, I think," replied Lilias, warmly. 
 " You should hear Marjorie McLeod talk about him ; she 
 almost worships him, I think ! Your old Greek heroes are 
 nothing to him, according to her." 
 
 " Well, very likely she's right there," said the young 
 man, smiling. *' I don't see why, in this advanced age of 
 the world, and with Christianity to help, we shouldn't have 
 better heroes than those old Pagan fellows, even Leonidas 
 and Aristides included ; and I think any one who can ap- 
 preciate a living hero, without being told he is one, de- 
 serves credit." 
 
 " I'll tell Marjorie when I see her. She'll be glad to 
 know that you admit his claim to be a hero, for she thinks 
 you a good judge." 
 
 " Does she.-* I'm afraid she's mistaken," — and the weary 
 intonation returned. " Which way were you going, and 
 may I go with you ? " he asked, very deferentially. 
 
 " I shall be very glad if you will. I was going to see 
 Aunt Judy, and bring her some little things from York. 
 No, you needn't take them ; I'm not half so tired as you 
 are, though I have been riding with papa most of the day;" 
 she remonstrated, as the young man took the basket from 
 her, respectfully but determinedly. 
 
 *' Yes, and how did the training go off? All the better 
 for your presence, I am sure," said he, as they walked 
 slowly onward. 
 
 " I don't know. I suspect that didn't make much 
 
 i! 
 
A TETE-A-TETE. 
 
 29 
 
 difference. Some of the new ones were awkward enough, 
 poor fellows ; but some of them do splendidly, almost as 
 good as regulars, my father says. He is quite proud of 
 his volunteers, and I really believe he is longing to lead 
 them into action." 
 
 " I earnestly trust there may be no need for it," was the 
 grave reply. " What a terrible unnatural evil such a war 
 would be ! " 
 
 " Do you think it is likely then ? " asked Lilias, an un- 
 easy fear vibrating through her clear voice. " I know my 
 father does, but I have been hoping it is only his military 
 zeal that makes him think so." 
 
 " I fear there is only too much likelihood. I know the 
 American feeling is very strong, and there is just, yes Just 
 as bitter a feeling here against them! When political feel- 
 ings gain the mastery, it is strange how they deaden every 
 sympathy and generous feeling. Many that are naturally 
 kind-hearted seem, when national antagonism comes into 
 play, to become hardened into wild beasts. If we do have 
 fighting, it will be fierce." 
 
 "Well, but your friends, the American j, have no right 
 whatever to molest us, who are not molesting them. If 
 there is fighting it will be their fault, not ours," — said Lilias, 
 with some energy. 
 
 Most unquestionably. Even national grievances — and 
 I think they have some to complain of — could not excuse 
 their bringing the horrors of war on a peaceful, unoffend- 
 ing province." 
 
30 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 " Then you won't join them in the raid against Oak- 
 ridge?" — said the girl, with a little arch mischief in her 
 inquiring glance, of which she repented when she saw the 
 look of pain in the young man's face. 
 
 " I should think you need hardly ask that. Miss 
 Lilias," he replied, with a painful, suppressed energy. " If 
 they do invade, I could not hesitate about my duty, hard 
 as it would be to find myself in arms against the country 
 my dear father almost died fighting for. But I hope, 
 against hope I sometimes fear, — that I may not be driven 
 into so painful a position." 
 
 " Then you would join the volunteers in case of war?" 
 said Lilias, a shade of satisfaction perceptible in her 
 voice, subdued as it was by the evident pain with which 
 the other spoke. " I half thought you might wish to re- 
 main neutral." 
 
 " Yes, I have thought the question over and over in 
 many a sleepless night these past months, and I don't see 
 that in such a case, and much as I dislike war in principle, 
 neutrality would be either practicable or desirable. And 
 in case of an invasion, I feel that it would be the duty of 
 every man who can, to use every means of repelling it. 
 So I have been training a little, as I could spare the time, 
 with the Newark volunteers, and though some of them 
 were jealous of me at first, as a * Yankee,' and a man who 
 couldn't know anything about military matters; they are 
 beginning to have a little respect for my soldiering quali- 
 ties now." 
 
of 
 
 
 A TETE-A-TETE. 
 
 31 
 
 ali- 
 
 " I don't wonder you're feeling fagged and worn out 
 then, with all that amount of work on your hands," said 
 Lilias, rather trying to repress the evident satisfaction 
 with which she had heard the last piece of intelligence. 
 She could not help being, as she was, thoroughly a 
 soldier's daughter, and a respect for military prowess, 
 above most other kinds, was, in spite of her own strong 
 inward reasonings to the contrary, blended with her very 
 life-blood. It awakened other thoughts, too — thoughts of 
 possibilities and contingencies that might arise out of 
 what seemed so strangely unreal and impossible, and yet 
 so thrillingly, nearly probable. Perhaps Ernest Heath- 
 cote also was thinking of possible contingencies. Silently 
 and thoughtfully the two walked on through the piece of 
 " maple bush" through which their path led, the slanting 
 sunbeams that quivered through the leaves making an 
 arabesque pattern on the brown ground below, and the 
 soft tinkling of cow-bells in the neighbouring pastures 
 sounding like a musical accompaniment to the pastoral 
 stillness, till they came out upon the bit of clearing where 
 stood Aunt Judy's tiny log cabin, close to the lake. 
 
 It was just where the shore curved round in a sandy 
 bay, and the blue of the water changed into a peculiar 
 pale green, as the waves, now slightly ruffled by a breeze, 
 plashed lightly up on the silvery sand. The little bay was 
 framed in on both sides by deep green woods, forming a 
 back-ground to the cabin standing in the midst of its bit of 
 
» 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 rudely-fenced garden. Far out to the horizon line stretch- 
 ed the expanse of blue water, broken only by the white 
 sails of a distant schooner. Familiar as the view was to 
 both Lilias and her companion, they paused for a few 
 moments to enjoy the sense of combined freedom and re- 
 pose which it suggested, before they passed around to the 
 front of the cottage, where old Judy sat on her door-step, 
 busy mending for her grandson Sambo, and crooning a 
 quaint hymn as she worked. The wrinkled brown face, 
 crowned with the woolly white hair that peeped out from 
 under a whiter cap, was bent down, intent on her work, but 
 at the sound of approaching steps she raised it, and her 
 bright old eyes beamed out the kindest of welcomes, as, 
 with a reposeful dignity of manner, and soft, low-toned 
 voice which many a would-be fine lady might have 
 envied, she came forward to greet " Miss Lilias." 
 
 " And so de Lord hab brought ye safe home, honey. 
 Well, He's good to His poor chil'en — dat's certain — for all 
 we do forget Him so much ! And ye're looking well too, and 
 as bright as a May posy. My old eyes has been longin' to 
 see you dis many a long day ! An' Mr. Ernest, I'm glad 
 to see you too ; but I can't say as you're lookin' so well." 
 
 " Mr. Ernest has been tiring himself out, Judy, be- 
 tween teaching and studying and drilling," said Lilias. 
 
 *' Jes' so," the old woman replied, shaking her head ; 
 " dat's de way wid you young folks ! Runnin' right 
 through de strength de good Lord gave, and meant to last 
 
A TETE-A-TETE. 
 
 31 
 
 all 
 and 
 
 to 
 rlad 
 lell." 
 
 be- 
 
 lad ; 
 ight 
 I last 
 
 de tree score years and ten ! You mind dat, Massa 
 Ernest, or you'll never see my aye. But 'bout dis drillin', 
 Miss Lilias," she added, anxiously, " does yer really tink 
 dem Yankees gwine to come over to dis ycre country ? 
 Some folks been frightened Sambo so, he come home 
 a-cryin' t'oder evenin' — tellin' him dey'd be over, and 
 he'd be took up and sold down South for a slave." 
 
 "That's all nonsense. Aunt Judy," replied Lilias, half 
 smiling, " and it was very wicked and mischievous in any 
 one who told poor Sambo so ; but still my father thinks 
 there may be fighting, and it's best to be ready, you know, 
 in case. But if they do come over, you maybe sure they'll 
 be sent home again without cither you or Sambo," she 
 continued reassuringly. 
 
 " Well, 1 aint much 'feard for myself, nor hadn't ought 
 to be for Sambo neither, scein' 1 know who's taken care of 
 dis yere poor creetur all her life long. An' it's He that'll 
 keep us all, honey, or dc watchmen 'II watch in vain." 
 
 " Right enough," said Ernest Heathcote, gravely, ''only 
 the watchmen must do their part too. They won't deserve 
 to be kept if they are lazy and careless, and go to sleep at 
 their posts. And I mean, for one, to keep awake." 
 
 Judy's reflections were, however, put to flight for the 
 time by the presentation of Miss Lilias' thoughtful gifts, — 
 the tea and sugar and other small luxuries so needful for 
 the poor old woman's comfort, and yet so costly and so 
 scarce in the remote wilds of Oakridge. It was not easy 
 
34 
 
 ^Ok ktNG AI^I) COUNTRY. 
 
 to get away from her gratitude, and her eager questions as 
 to all Miss Lilias had been seeing and doing during her 
 absence; but at last Lilias broke away, fearing lest she 
 should be keeping her father waiting for the tea-dinner 
 which formed his most substantial meal. 
 
 " What an all-absorbing topic this idea of a war is 
 getting to be," remarked Lilias to her companion as they 
 retraced their steps. " I am afraid we are going to have it, 
 if it be true that ' coming events cast their shadows before,' 
 as that poem you re ^d to me, last time you were here, 
 says. I mean the lasi time you were here before I went 
 away ; for I suppose you've been here several times since 
 then ?" 
 
 " Only once," he replied gravely. " But your speaking 
 of the poem reminds me of something I have here that I 
 hope you will like, —a poem by Walter Scott, which I had 
 heard of, but not seen before." 
 
 And he drew from his pocket a thin blue paper-covered 
 book, on the back of which, on a white label, was printed 
 " iMarmion," and placed it in Lilias' eager hands. 
 
 " How did you get hold of it ?" she asked. 
 
 " It was in my friend Martin's little stock of books. I 
 don't know how he happened to light upon it, but I'm sure 
 he was glad to get rid of it, for 1 don't think he had much 
 hope of selling it in Newark. The officers don't patronize 
 literature much, as a rule. 1 was very glad to get hold of 
 this, for I had seen a very shaip criticism of it in a stray 
 
 I 
 
A TETE-A-TETE. 
 
 35 
 
 number of the Edinburgh Review that came in ly way, 
 so I felt the more interested in it. But it seems to me 
 the reviewer is in the wrong box for once, for I think it's 
 a magnificent poem, if ever there was one ! Do just 
 Usten to the splendid ring of the measure." 
 
 And taking the book, he read, with a clear, forcible in- 
 tonation and genuine enthusiasm, the well-known opening 
 Hnes : 
 
 " Uay set on Norham's castled steep, 
 And Tweed's fair river, broad and deep," etc. 
 
 and Lilias, who always delighted in Ernest Heathcote's 
 reading, drank in, with kindling eye and flushing cheek, 
 the great magician's gorgeous picture, whose scenery and 
 colouring were so different from anything her native land 
 could show. 
 
 " It is beautiful!" she exclaimed, with a little sigh, as 
 he concluded. " I am sure it will be a great pleas" re to 
 read it. And may I let Marjorie McLeod read it } I 
 know she would enjoy it." 
 
 " I hope you will do me the pleasure of accepting it," 
 he replied. " I meant it for you to keep, if you liked it." 
 
 " Oh, thank you," said Lilias ; " it is very kind of you, 
 but I almost feel as if it were robbing you, — you love 
 books so ! " 
 
 " Not more than I do my friends, I hope," he replied, 
 smiling ; and then the grave look came instantly back, 
 and he walked silently on ; while Lilias, glancing at the 
 
FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 ' 
 
 ' 
 
 poem here and there, tried to shake off a certain sense of 
 embarrassment which the gift had brought, and which 
 she, in her free, simple Ufe, had not often felt. 
 
 •* And how are they all at the fiirm .-"' she said at last. 
 " What a shame for me not to have asked before." 
 
 "All well. Uncle Jacob and Aunt Patience have 
 been at Burlington Bay, but were expected home this 
 afternoon. Rachel and the boys are as usual." 
 
 " And Rachel is as pretty as ever, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Prettier ! I think I never saw her so fresh and 
 blooming — ^just like a rosebud beginning to blow ! Per- 
 haps it would be better for her if she were not so pretty ;" 
 he added, thoughtfully. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Oh, — well, I don't know if it really is of as much con- 
 sequence as I have been mrking it ; but I thought 1 
 would tell you, and perhaps when you see her you might 
 give her a caution. I wouldn't like to vex Aunt Patience 
 about it ; but there's a young officer from Newark who has 
 been round here several times, and he's managed to see 
 Rachel alone, and I'm afraid he's put a little nonsense 
 into her head. How he knew my uncle and aunt were 
 away, I don't know ; but this forenoon, when I walked in, 
 he was there, — was hot and tired, he said, and came in, 
 as he passed, to get a glass of milk. And Rachel, poor 
 girl, was blushing so prettily, and looking so pleased at 
 the fine speeches I found he had been making to her, 
 
A TETE-A-TETE. yf 
 
 that 1 could hardly find it in my heart to tell her not to 
 listen to him or believe him ; for, of course, he was only 
 amusing himself with her." 
 
 " What is his name ? " asked Lilias. 
 
 " Payne — of the 41st. He's a weak, frivolous, brainless 
 sort of fellow, and in Newark his companions are not 
 very creditable, and I know he's mixed up with a gam- 
 bling set." 
 
 " Oh, I have seen him once or twice with some of the 
 other officers," said Lilias, " but 1 know my father doesn't 
 like hun, and never asks him to his house. How did he 
 get to know Rachel ? " 
 
 " Indeed I am puzzled to know how, unless it is 
 through a fellow that used to be here, and is in Newark 
 now, — Bill Davis ; do you remember him ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ! I shouldn't be likely to forget how he used 
 to rob our trees of the best apples, and how angry he 
 used to make my father." 
 
 " Well, he's living in Newark now, — how, no one can 
 tell, but I suspect it is in ways that won't bear looking 
 into. At any rate he's a good deal mixed up with Payne's 
 set of gambling, betting fellows, and I suspect he must 
 have told Payne about Rachel, perhaps out of a spite he 
 has at me. He once professed to admire Rachel himself, 
 and because she wouldn't have anything to say to him, he 
 thought I had set her against him, and seemed to believe 
 it was on my own account ; so I suppose he thought he 
 
w 
 
 fit 
 
 m 
 
 38 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 would at once annoy me and propitiate Payne by showing 
 him a pretty girl to flirt with." 
 
 " What a wicked young man he must be !" exclaimed 
 Lilias, shocked at what was to her so new a development 
 of character. 
 
 " Indeed, I am sorry to say he is not a singular 
 instance. You don't know how happy you are, Miss 
 Lilias, to be so shut out from the knowledge of the 
 wickedness of the world as you are here. It makes one 
 ashamed sometimes of one's very manhood," he said 
 with almost a bitter earnestness, "when one sees the 
 things that go on and are tolerated by people who ought 
 to know better ! But it isn't a pleasant subject for a 
 lovely afternoon like this, is it ? — the knowledge of good 
 and evil ! A precious boon, certainly, for a tempter to 
 bring to Eden ! " 
 
 " I always <//V/ wonder at that," said Lilias, thoughtfully. 
 
 "It was the very ignorance of the evil that made the 
 temptation, I suppose. If we didn't know what evil 
 meant, we don't know how far curiosity might carry us. 
 But I am really concerned about poor Rachel," he added, 
 in a softened tone ; " and /^ you could caution her when 
 you see her, I wish you would ! She is so young and 
 simple ; and that fellow is good-looking and insinuating 
 enough to make him dangerous. I shouldn't like to see 
 her break her heart about him." 
 
 " I will try, if I can get an opportunity," replied Lilias, 
 
A TETE-A-TETE. 
 
 39 
 
 in a low tone. Somehow the request and the subject 
 made her feel uncomfortable. It was natural enough for 
 Ernest to be concerned about the happiness of his little 
 cousin, brought up by his side ; but yet his anxiety rather 
 troubled her, and she did not find it easy to talk with him 
 on such a subject. She • ', ould have smiled, even to herself, 
 at the idea of anything more than friendship existing be- 
 tween herself and Ernest Heathcote, yet there was an un- 
 derlying sensitiveness that made itself felt whenever its 
 province was encroached upon ; and the same sensitive- 
 ness perhaps was not without effect, by sympathy, on 
 her companion. Both, at all events, finished the walk in 
 a more abstracted mood than they had begun it, 
 although they still talked on, — Lilias describing some of 
 her York experiences, and Ernest talking of the studies 
 and books which had been occupying his mind, — usually 
 an interesting subject to his fair companion. 
 
 "You will come in to tea.'"' LiHas said, as they came 
 under the shade of the wide-spreading elms. " My father 
 will be glad to have a talk with you about Lord Welling- 
 ton and the Spanish campaign. You know I'm not so 
 good a geographer as you," she added smiling, — "so I 
 don't understand it half so well." 
 
 " Thank you," he replied, half hesitatingly, " I should 
 like it very much ; and perhaps after tea you would like a 
 French reading.-^ You know we left Athalii in trouble 
 last time." 
 
!il 
 
 . I 
 
 40 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 "As she deserved to be ! But who can that be with 
 my father?" she exchiimed, as tney came in sight of the 
 front portico, where Major Meredith sat smoking his 
 pipe, in company with a stranger, an EngUsh officer 
 evidently, who, Ernest could see at a glance, was tall, 
 handsome, and gifted with the additional indefinite grace 
 of '. Iture and high breeding. 
 
 Aiajor Meredith came eagerly forward to meet his 
 daughter, and after a courteous but rather patronising 
 greeting to " Mr. Ernest,'^ he said in a low tone — 
 
 ' ^ i'"'s, oiy dear, we have got an unexpected visitor — 
 Capta! *' — vr.l; my old comrade Percival's son— just 
 arriveu from ).o] le ! I hpve been waiting for you to come 
 in an ; h, introc 'o him ; and you must order tea at 
 
 once, for wl' are /_./ i^ry." 
 
 Captain Percival had risen, and was looking with 
 some evident surprise at Lilias, as he awaited her ap- 
 proach and the introduction. Ernest detained her for a 
 moment to say very respectfully — 
 
 " If you will excuse me, Miss Lilias, I'll not stay this 
 evening. I'll see you again before I go." 
 
 And, before she could object, he bowed and departed, 
 disappearing quickly among the shadows of the avenue, 
 while Major Meredith, inwardly applauding the propriety 
 of the young man's action, led his daughter forward, 
 with evident pride at being able to present to the stranger 
 so fair and graceful a maiden as — " My daughter, sir." 
 
 II 
 
A RETROSPECT AND A MEDITATION. 
 
 4i 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A RETROSPECT AND A MEDITATION. 
 
 " On every mountain crest 
 Is rest, — 
 On every vale beneath, 
 
 No breath 
 Disturbs the quietude ; 
 The little birds are silent in the wood : 
 Soon, patient, weary breast, 
 Thou too wilt rest ! " 
 
 IT was with a strong rising pain at his heart, stronger 
 than he could have reasonably accounted for even to 
 himself, that Ernest Heathcote hurried away from the 
 house where, a few moments before, he had expected to 
 spend some happy hours in a companionship the exceed- 
 ing sweetness of which, to him, he had only of late begun 
 openly to acknowledge to himself. But it was not only the 
 disappointment of the immediate deprivation that made 
 his heart sink so low. A vague, haunting fear for the 
 future, which had been dimly oppressing him, had seemed 
 suddenly to take a definite form from the unexpected 
 appearance of this stranger. Slight as the circumstance 
 was, it seemed to chime in only too well with the train of 
 thought which had been occupying his mind before. He 
 
4> 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 it! 
 
 walked rapidly on, fighting oflF thought by dint of exercise ; 
 and instead of pursuing his way to the " Lake Farm," — 
 his Oakridge home, — he turned aside towards the hilly 
 ridge which skirted the little settlement at a short distance 
 from the lake, and which, being well wooded with oak and 
 other trees, gave it its name. It was rather a steep 
 clamber up the rocky, wooded side, but the climbing 
 helped to take the edge off the inward pain ; and when he 
 at last reached the open knoll near the summit, toward 
 which he had been directing his steps, and threw himself 
 down to rest and think, Lis mood had become considerably 
 tranquillized. 
 
 It was a lovely summer panorama that lay spread out 
 before him. The wide expanse of lake, as softly blue as a 
 sleeping southern sea ; the green curving shore that swept 
 from Burlington Bay, on the one hand, round almost in a 
 semicircle to the Newark district on the other ; the heavy 
 masses of forest, in the distance dimly blue against the 
 horizon — near at hand showing such a variety of vivid 
 green, interspersed with the paler hues of occasional clear- 
 ings ; here and there a faint curl of smoke from the 
 chimney of a settler's cabin, denoting preparations for the 
 evening meal ; just below, the little grey church and 
 churchyard ; and, a little to the left, behind the gracefully 
 towering elms, among the apple and peach trees, the 
 creeper-covered walls of the " big house" to which his eye 
 turned so wistfully. The tide of thought swept in now in 
 
 
A RETROSPECT AND A MEDITATION. 
 
 43 
 
 full force, and the familiar features of the scene before him 
 seemed to weave themselves inextricably into the mazes of 
 the reverie, half retrospective, half anticipative, that took 
 possession of him. But, to understand the tenor of his 
 meditations, it is necessary to glance briefly at his past 
 history. 
 
 His father had been an officer in the revolutionary army, 
 and had gained his captaincy by gallant services during 
 the war of Independence. A year or two before its close 
 he had impulsively married a gentle Quaker maiden, grow- 
 ing up in a New England farm-house where he had 
 been nursed through a fever following upon wounds and 
 exposure after an engagement. Her fau^ily strongly 
 opposed the marriage, the more so that they were 
 opposed to the war in principle, and that the other 
 daughter was about to be married to Jacob Thurstane, a 
 keen and sturdy Loyalist. But the young officer's ardour 
 and the maiden's affection overcame all the opposition, 
 reasonable and unreasonable, of the simple, kindly country 
 folk, and the marriage took place, the young husband 
 being obliged, shortly after, to leave his bride with her 
 parents, while he again went to risk his life in the cause 
 into which he had thrown himself, heart and soul. It was 
 a sorrowful, anxious time for the young wife, whose 
 sympathies naturally went with the side on which her 
 husband's life was staked, while those of her own family, 
 and, more strongly still, those of her new brother-in-law, 
 
44 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 were entirely on the other. At last the contest was decided. 
 Captain Heathcote returned to his wife, — his life spared, 
 indeed, but with the seeds of disease in his constitution, 
 which were to bring him to a premature grave ; — and 
 Jacob Thurstane, determined to cling to the British flag, 
 left his well-tilled, flourishing farm, and took refuge in 
 Canada as a United Empire Loyalist. Captain Heathcote 
 and his wife lived on for some years with the old father 
 and mother in the quiet little homestead, where one sorrow 
 rapidly followed another. Children were born only to pine 
 away and die, while their lives were reckoned by months; — 
 the old father and mother ere long followed the little grand- 
 children ; and then Captain Heathcote's lingering malady, 
 aggravated by cold and exposure, developed itself so 
 rapidly that, almost before his wife could bring herself to 
 admit his danger, she found herself a widow, — alone in the 
 world but for the one infant of a few months old, who, un- 
 like its predecessors, seemed likely to be spared to her. 
 Tidings did not travel rapidly from Massachusetts to 
 Canada in those days, but when Jacob and Patience Thur- 
 stane received the sorrowful, painfully written letter which 
 told them of Rachel Heathcote's desolation, the strong, 
 gentle-hearted yeoman set out at once to bring her and 
 her baby to his Canadian home. 
 
 " It's rough enough yet, sister Rachel," said Patience, 
 as the two sisters wept together when Mrs. Heathcote 
 arrived ; " but if thee can like it after the dear old home, 
 
A RETROSPECT AND A MEDITATION. 
 
 45 
 
 decided. 
 5 spared, 
 5titution, 
 e ;— and 
 :ish flag, 
 2fuge in 
 sathcote 
 d father 
 I sorrow 
 • to pine 
 nths; — 
 
 grand- 
 nalady, 
 self so 
 rself to 
 
 in the 
 lo, un- 
 o her. 
 2tts to 
 Thur- 
 which 
 trong, 
 r and 
 
 ence, 
 icote 
 ome, 
 
 we'll try to make thee as happy as thee can ever be in 
 this world now, poor soul ! " 
 
 They kept their word, and the Lake Farm was at least 
 a peaceful home for poor Rachel Heathcote for the few 
 years that her life, worn down by sorrow, was prolonged. 
 And when she quietly departed to her real home, where 
 broken bonds are united and broken hearts made whole, 
 it was without the shadow of an anxiety for the future of 
 the son whom she confidingly entrusted to her brother 
 and sister's faithful guardianship. That trust had not 
 been disappointed. Jacob and I'atience Thurstane would 
 have been unkind to their own children sooner than to 
 their orphaned nephew ; and the former, seeing that the 
 boy was not nearly so strong as his own vigorous sons, 
 but that he "favoured book-learning," was anxious to 
 secure for him as good an education as was possible in 
 those days. As the settlement grew, a teacher now and 
 then came to Oakridge for the winter months, and Ernest 
 rapidly learned all that such not very thoroughly equipped 
 instructors could teach him. Major Meredith, to whom 
 steady, honest Jacob Thurstane had always been a trusty 
 friend and ally, pleased with the boy's evident ability and 
 love of study, presented him with a Latin grammar and 
 Delectus, in which he made such progress that, by Major 
 Meredith's advice, he was sent for a winter to the Gram- 
 mar School sometimes in operation at Newark, and sub- 
 sequently to Harvard College. This event was of no 
 
4« 
 
 rOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 small importance in the boy's life, since it not only won- 
 derfully enlarged his range of ideas and experience, and 
 stimulated his fast developing powers, but it also intro- 
 duced him to the country of his parents, and to scenes full 
 of interest to him from the reminiscences which, boy as 
 he was, he had treasured up, from his mother's lips, of his 
 father's campaigns. On his final return from college, 
 being still undecided as to his future career, he had, by 
 the advice of both his uncle and Major Meredith, under- 
 taken to discharge the duties of grammar-school teacher 
 at Newark, while he continued eagerly to prosecute his 
 own cherished studies. 
 
 At "The Elms" Ernest Heathcote had always been 
 a privileged visitor. The Major had always liked to 
 encourage the clever, .studious lad, who, he hoped, would 
 one day turn out a credit to his patronage. His early 
 lost wife, too, had taken a special interest in the young 
 widow, who was fading away very much as she herself 
 was ; and after Mrs. Heathcote's death, which happened 
 shortly before her own, she had felt an intense sympa- 
 thetic compassion for the poor boy left motherless, as she 
 knew her own infant child would be ere long. This asso- 
 ciation with a beloved memory still fresh in the Major's 
 inmost heart, strengthened the interest he would, in any 
 case, have felt in a promising boy growing up under his 
 immediate observation. 
 
 Little Lilias, as she grew up, became the poetry, and 
 
A ftRTROSPKCT AND A MEDITATION. 
 
 « 
 
 in no small measure the inspiration, of Ernest's quiet, 
 thoughtful life. He was accustomed to see her often and 
 familiarly, but he never forgot, as the sturdier Thurstane 
 boys sometimes did, the re?pect due to her higher social 
 position, but especially to her sex. Indeed, he was always, 
 with a natural chivalry, as deferential to her as ever was 
 knight to his liege lady. When Lilias rode over to the 
 farm on her pony by her father's side, as she often did, 
 and spent the hours, (while Major Meredith discussed 
 stock and road-making and improvements with the 
 farmer), in wandering about the farm, where she had the 
 child-like conviction that everything — frc i cows and 
 sheep down to cream and home-made buns and "Johnny- 
 cake," — was better than they had at home, Ernest wjis 
 her ready and delighted escort. Ho it was who went 
 with her to the shore, to watch the aves, white-crested 
 in the breeze, come curling over the sand;— who made 
 her tiny birch-bark tanoes, and enclosed a fairy pond 
 with stones, on whose unruffled expanse the tiny craft, 
 with beetles and lady-bugs for crew, might float in safety ; 
 — who taught her, with infinite pains, how to make the 
 little flat stones "skip" over the glassy waves, and, in the 
 season of the " dropping nuts," gathered stores of hickory 
 and butternuts for her special delectation. And then, 
 when tired with more active pleasures, Lilias liked nothing 
 better than to sit under a spreading maple or butternut 
 tree, while Ernest told her wonderful stories out of his 
 
pilpiwi^»ff a. P n ir M >*wii | ii .i w ^ i nij i 'j i in ¥ rtu iM Ui iipy» . ii j» i j wff " " i ^ n ii y > j] wf^i ^i: i i 
 
 f 
 
 # 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 Ovid, about Deucalion and Pyrrha, and men sprung 
 from dragons' teeth, and maidens changed into trees, and 
 Pyramus and Thisbe, and poor Ceyx and Halcyone, from 
 which latter he would translate whole pages, to which the 
 child would listen with dilating, dreamy eyes, gazing at 
 the sparkling waves before her, and imagining them the 
 very ones which engulfed the absent, wacched-for hus- 
 band. These stories, laden with the poetic breath of the 
 old heroic ages, and the strange distant lands, nourished 
 the child's imaginative faculty, and widened a mental 
 horizon that might otherwise have been comparatively 
 narrow ; and were — hardly less than the Bible stories that 
 Aunt Judy used to tell her in her quaint, confused way, 
 —^ vivid reahty in her inner world. And she, on the 
 other hand, was to Ernest a softening, refining mfluence, 
 and to some extent an embodiment of the ideal beauty 
 which vaguely floated before his imagination. In some 
 indefinite fashion she always blended with his dreams of 
 the future, though he would have felt it a profanation to 
 let those dreams take a tangible shape, as with a less sen- 
 sitive lad they might have done. 
 
 When, after each absence from home, he met Lilias, 
 who had herself been sent away for a year to a Montreal 
 boarding-school — a great piece of self-denial on her father's 
 part, — and recognized her increasing beauty and the grace 
 which enlarged social intercourse had added to her naturally 
 frank and simple manner, he was more than ever vividly 
 
y 
 
 A RETROSPECT AND A MEDITATION. 
 
 49 
 
 conscious both of the difference in their social position 
 and of the delight which he found in her society, — in 
 her very presence. Opportunities for enjoying it were 
 so numerous, and so easy, too, in his vacations spent 
 at the farm. The Major had a tolerably good library 
 for the time and place, chiefly stocked with standard old- 
 time histories — Gibbon, Robertson, Hume, &c. ; and as 
 Ernest was free to borrow and read as many as he pleased, 
 — and they formed the staple of his reading in a place 
 where books were otherwise so difficult of access, — they 
 furnished sufficient cause for many a pleasant visit to The 
 Elms. There was many a pleasant talk, also, during these 
 often prolonged visits ; for Lilias, stimubted by Ernest's 
 example, generally read the books that he read, and they 
 both found that comparing notes and opinions about them 
 was a great deal pleasanter than enjoying them alone. 
 The Major himself liked to join in some of these talks— 
 they recalled old days when he had been a greater reader 
 than he was now, and he liked to discuss the old English 
 campaigns and victories, comparing past times with pre- 
 sent, especially when he could do so with one so well able 
 to form and intelligibly defend an opinion as Ernest 
 Heathcote. 
 
 Then Lilias and he compared their respective acquire- 
 ments in French, in which Ernest had been his own in- 
 structor ; and as they found that, while Ernest was incom- 
 parably the better versed in the grammar and theory of 
 
11 
 
 .11 1 l, . 
 
 ■''H 
 
 50 KOk kiNG AND COUNtkY. 
 
 the language, Lilias had acquired from her French ill* 
 structress at school an acquaintance with its pronunciation 
 to which Ernest could not pretend, they often read it to- 
 gether for mutual improvement during the pleasant even- 
 ings that Eniest spent at The Elms ; and it was surpri- 
 sing how much life and interest seemed to be infused into 
 the pages of Corneille and Racine on these occasions, and 
 how much better Lilias could appreciate the beauty of the 
 dramas when aided by the thoughtful critical comments 
 of firnest's maturer mind. 
 
 It would have been almost impossible for any young 
 man, in such circumstances, and with Ernest's ardent 
 temperament, to have gone on enjoying a companionship 
 that was constantly becoming dearer to him, without 
 
 cherishing some fair visions of what might be, if ! 
 
 Had not far greater social differences been bridged by a 
 true and persevering love, winning, by its own determina- 
 tion, such a position as it would not be derogatory to the 
 beloved one to share? Such dreams would rise, to be con- 
 stantly checked by the feeling that Lilias, frankly glad as 
 he knew she was to have him for a companion and friend, 
 never looked beyond the pleasure of the present intercourse. 
 Her mind had never been imbued with such sentimental 
 ideas as most young ladies derive from novels, few of these 
 having ever penetrated to Oakridge ; and Corneille and 
 Racine were too much above the level of ordinary life to 
 suggest them. Then her life %vas such a healthy, happy 
 
A RETROSPECT AlMD A MEDITATK/N. 
 
 *i 
 
 one, — so full of the innocent interests which had sufficed 
 to it from her girlhood, that, if entire separation from 
 Ernest would have made any deeply felt blank in it, she 
 was as yet quite unconscious of the fact. And the Major, 
 kind as he always had been to Ernest, genuinely pleased 
 as he always was with his industry and success, was yet, 
 as the latter well knew, so staunchly entrenched in his old 
 Tory ideas of cas/t' that he would as soon have expected 
 one of Jacob Thurstane's rough farmer sons to dream of 
 marrying his daughter, as the " lad" whom he looked upon 
 as a sort of p}'ote'ge'; even though, — perhaps all the more 
 because, — his father had been one of those Republican 
 soldiers whom Major Meredith had never quite forgiven 
 for "b«.-ating the English." 
 
 Moreover, Ernest was feeling discouraged, of late, about 
 the realization of the strong hope he had always enter- 
 tained of winning an important and useful position ; — one 
 wherein the talents of which he was conscious should have 
 more scope than in ' »o cramping drudgery of a school- 
 master's work ; the depressing monotony of which, among 
 very rough and unpromising materials, was telling sensibly 
 upon his strength and energies. He was feeling, even in 
 his private studies, the want of a more definite aim to 
 stimulate .him to a more direct and vigorous coin-se 
 through the leinpting tieids of knowledge, liui that deh- 
 nite ain\ it was not easy to lix. !■ or the stiuly of medicine 
 he had no n itural taste or aptitude. Law, vrith its dry 
 
1! 
 
 
 li 
 
 M 
 
 s« 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 technicalities, repelled him. The Church, although the 
 preparatory studies would have chimed in far better with 
 his mental tendencies, Ernest Heathcote was too conscien- 
 tious to enter without a more vividly realizing grasp of the 
 great realities he should have to preach than he was con- 
 scious of as yet. With earnest longings after truth of all 
 kinds, and for communion with the unseen source of truth, 
 his heart had not yet found its centre ; he knew he lacked 
 the earnest whole-souled faith which he saw in his aunt, 
 Lilias and poor Aunt Judy, and he felt too strongly the 
 sacred responsibiUties of the ministry to enter upon it as a 
 mere profession. To equip himself for a professorship, or 
 the calling of a litterateur , would have been, in the state 
 of Canada at that time, a Utopian idea. There was nothing 
 for him, in the present, but to go on in the work, monoton- 
 ous as it was, which had come to his hand ; and to hope 
 that, by-and-by, the higher and more congenial vocation 
 which at present floated somewhat vaguely before his 
 inward sight might take shape and tangible reality. 
 
 Meantime the depressing influences of uncertainty and 
 hope deferred were aggravated by the conflicting emotions 
 which had been awakened by the hostility and antagonism 
 daily increasing between Canada and the United States. 
 Notwithstanding his New England birth, he was aS thor- 
 oughly Canadian in feeling as his uncle Jacob. To Canada 
 belonged all his early memories and associations, — all 
 tjie silent influences of solemn forest and changeful lake 
 
 ^»-4Ji>i 
 
A RETROSPECT AND A MEDITATION. 
 
 53 
 
 and quiet dewv country fields, which had interwoven 
 themselves with his impressible nature, and had as much 
 to do with developing his mind and character as his eagerly 
 studied books. All his fair youthful dreams were hnked 
 with Canada as firmly as with Lilias, and Lilias herself 
 was an additional and a strong link in the invisible chain. 
 For Britain, the country from which all his ancestors had 
 originally come — the land of so many heroic traditions — 
 the present upholder of continental liberty against tyran- 
 nical encroachments, he felt as strong and loyal an affec- 
 tion as Major Meredith or Jacob Thurstane. But then, 
 the young country which, like a restless, adventurous 
 youth, had thrown aside the paternal yoke, and somewhat 
 roughly vindicated its independence, had a place in his 
 heart, too, and he could not regard it, as the Major and 
 his uncle did, — as an insolent upstart, rearing its indepen- 
 dence on gratuitous disloyalty and unreasonable rebellion. 
 He knew well, from his mother's lips, as well as from her 
 expressive silence, how sacred to his father's heart had 
 been the cause of independence, which for him had been 
 the cause of loyalty ; and, stimulated by the filial desire to 
 find justification for his father's course, he had studied 
 with keen attention all he had been able to learn from 
 books or men as to the origin of the struggle. He had 
 heard, from the lips of those who still vividly remembered 
 those days of storm and bitterness, of the oppressions and 
 exactions and high-handed acts which, devised by unwise 
 
. » > > 
 
 H 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 f 
 
 i lit ^ 
 
 counsellors, so far from and so ignorant of the real con- 
 dition of the country they were undertaking to rule, had 
 made the old British blood of the colonists boil under the 
 sense of hopeless injustice, and roused true-hearted men 
 to rear the standard of defiance. Ernest felt that, had he 
 been one of them, he must have done as they did— that 
 they were actuated by a true loyalty, not to the then 
 Government of England, but to the traditions which had 
 made her the nation she was, — to the spirit which had 
 vindicated her liberty and freed her from kingly tyranny 
 on the field of Naseby. And so, when Major Meredith, 
 who had gained his promotion in the War of Indepen- 
 dence, would unsparingly denounce those " recreant Yan- 
 kees" as traitorous rebels, Ernest, who knew lictter than 
 to excite his ire by useless argument, was obliged, at least 
 by silence, to show dissent, — a circumstance not unnoticed 
 by the staunch old soldier, who would inwardly regret that 
 his young friend had sprung from so doubtful a stock. 
 For " blood will tell," he would say to himself ; and Ernest 
 was often painfully aware that his genuine and thorough 
 loyalty was secretly doubted by the Major, as well as by 
 other people. 
 
 He was, in truth, in a position especially liable to suffer 
 unjust suspicion and misconstruction ; — that of one who 
 cannot give unqualified sympathy to either side alone, — 
 who. sees too much of the faults of both to be a thorough 
 partisan of either, and who, consequently, meets the dis- 
 
A RETROSPECT AND A MEDITATION. 
 
 55 
 
 approval of both. For, while the unscrupulously aggres- 
 sive spirit of a portion of the American people towards 
 Canada awakened his indignation, he well knew that it 
 was equally distasteful to the better portion of that people 
 themselves ; — that, in his father's New England especially, 
 there were many who denounced the idea as strenuously 
 as any Canadian could do. And he knew, too, — for his 
 intercourse with his American kindred had enabled him to 
 look at matters from their point of view also, — that Britain 
 was not wholly clear of offence on her own part ; that 
 some cause had been given for the animosities that rankled 
 so bitterly in American hearts ; and that corresponding 
 animosities, as bitter, and often as unjust, in many cases 
 predisposed Canadians to unreasonable hostility on their 
 side. He had seen enough of unfairness and violent pre- 
 judices, on both sides of the line, to make him thoroughly 
 weary of the quarrel, and, at the same time, to give him 
 good cause to fear that a fierce collision must ere long 
 take place. If so, then he should have no difficulty as to 
 his own course. As he had said to Lilias, he felt that a 
 reckless, unscrupulous invasion of a peaceful country, 
 brought about by base men for selfish ends, must be re- 
 sisted to the death by every honest man. To take up arms 
 in such a cause was to fight not only for King and Country, 
 but for peace and good order, — for the sacred rights of 
 man, — for home and the dear helpless ones around the 
 hearthstone ; and against murder, rapine, crime,— all the 
 
I ;;■ ■, 
 
 I 
 
 >! J 
 
 r ' ' 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 5 
 
 •t 
 
 >ifvt*fiK-'v.m 
 
 III 
 
 56 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 countless villanies that must attend the success of reckless 
 marauders. Even Aunt Patience forgot her Quaker prin- 
 ciples, and ceased to preach peace, when her sons, and 
 even her loyal old husband, shouldered their hunting rifles 
 and went to drill. And Ernest, impressed with the need 
 of being prepared for the worst, and aware that enthusiasm 
 and determination, however strong, would not make up 
 for the lack of previous training, had joined a Newark com- 
 pany of volunteers, and had devoted himself to drilHng 
 with an ardour that told considerably upon his not very 
 vigorous strength. 
 
 It was not surprising, therefore, that in his present 
 somewhat morbid state, even the society of Lilias should 
 have failed to rouse him out of the painful thoughts that 
 had been harassing him, and that the appearance of this 
 stranger at the very moment when he had been inwardly 
 chafing at the invisible barriers between Lilias and him- 
 self, should have given him a stab-like sensation, like the 
 sudden, vivid realisation of a vague misgiving. He had 
 always feared lest the prize he so coveted might be carried 
 off before he could even make an effort to secure it ; for to 
 make any such attempt in present circumstances would, he 
 felt, be an ungrateful breach of trust towards the Major, 
 which would assuredly excite his indignation, even if it 
 succeeded so far as Lilias' own feeling was concerned. He 
 had an exaggerated sense of his own deficiences of manner 
 and appearance, as compared with Lilias herself, and of 
 
A RETROSPECT AND A MEDITATION. 
 
 57 
 
 many with whom she would, now especially, be brought 
 into contact. He felt, too, as if no man capable of appre- 
 ciating Lilias, and free to win her, could help being in- 
 spired with the same desire which filled his own heart. 
 IJut his hold upon her regard was, he thought, painfully 
 slight, sincere as he knew her friendship to be. He was 
 but one pleasant element in a life that had a thousand 
 other interests. And now, in this prepossessing stranger, 
 who would meet her on the familiar footing of an old 
 family friendship, and who was received with such favor 
 by her father, he felt as if he had seen the rival decreed 
 by fate to win the object of his own long-cherished hopes. 
 He knew how slender was the foundation on which this 
 idea had started up, but he could not reason himself 
 out of it. It was one of those sudden, almost unaccount- 
 able feelings that sometimes take possession of the mind 
 with tyrant force, and maintain their sway in spite of will 
 and reason. 
 
 Well ! it would be more in accordance with the fit- 
 ness of things, — he could not but confess to himself, — 
 than his own dream would be, could it be realised. Was 
 it not selfish to wish to keep Lilias in this remote wilder- 
 ness, shut out from the world she was so fitted to grace, — 
 from a career that would bring her into a more vivid life 
 and varied experience, side by side with one whom most 
 people would pronounce a far more fitting mate ? And 
 yet, would his darling be really happier than he could 
 
• > 
 
 'f 
 
 t.i 
 
 i 
 
 -1- 
 
 s> 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 make her, — in a tranquil, peaceful life of sympathetic aims? 
 Would any man devote himself more truly — nay, as truly 
 — to secure a happiness so precious to him, and to which 
 he believed he knew so well how to minister, having 
 watched every taste and preference from her childhood ? 
 It was a harassing conflict of thought and feeling, and he 
 began to see how fruitless it all was. What could he do, 
 after all, but leave events to take their course — nay, rather 
 leave them to the direction of Him who, as Aunt Judy 
 had said, must " keep the city, or the watchmen would 
 watch in vain ?" And as he looked up to the pure ethereal 
 sky above him, now taking the soft rich tones of sunset, 
 he tried to raise his heart, too, to that all-directing, invisible 
 power whose essence is Love, and the thought of Whom, 
 really believed in, must calm the most troubled heart. 
 
 His, at least, began to grow quieter, while he sat still 
 on the rocky knoll, watching the sunset, till the soft flood 
 of amber light in the west, melting above into the most 
 delicate green, and the light wreaths of rosy clouds float- 
 ing above, were all that were left of it ; while the placid 
 lake below lay suffused with an exquisite blending of hazy 
 purple and amber and rose. The rich verdure of early 
 summer and the outlines of the fair landscape were all 
 subdued and idealised in the soft evening light. Connect- 
 ing the scene before him with the thoughts that had been 
 passing through his mind, Ernest mused regretfully on the 
 sad perversity of selfish, passionate human nature, in 
 
 n I. 
 
 lU 
 
A kETROSPKCT AND A MEDITATION. 
 
 59 
 
 bringing in elements of destruction and suffering to n\ar 
 the divinely given beauty of the fair world. Should the 
 threatened war take place, some such sweet sylvan scene 
 as this would ere long be profaned by the horrid din of 
 arms and deadly human conflict, suffering and mutilation, 
 the " noise of the warrior and the garment rolled in blood." 
 And yet, it would only be adding one page more to the 
 many blood-stained pages of the world's history ! Think- 
 ing of this, with the sadness which it must bring to every 
 heart that vainly tries to solve the mysterious problem of 
 human life, Ernest thought, too, of the ** old, old story " 
 he had heard so often, with ears but half comprehending, 
 — of the Divine Love, which had become one with misery 
 that it might bring to it a full consolation, — which 
 had descended into the darkness that it might drive it 
 away with heavenly light, — into the evil that it might 
 overcome it with good ! And he seemed to feel, as he had 
 never done before, how, for his own troubj- , burdened 
 heart, as well as for a troubled, burdened world, there was 
 no rest short of that perfect, highest Love. As he slowly 
 descended, amid the deepening shadows of the maples and 
 pines, a strange peace seemed to fall on his heart as gently 
 as the dew ; for amidst the perplexities and burdens that 
 lay heavily upon his thoughts, that great Divine- human 
 heart that throbbed unseen, — the very pulse of the fair 
 "nature" around, — was drawing him to itself, to rest, with a 
 dimly reaUsing trust on its own perfect, all-sufficing strength. 
 
ItfBaiiMBHiHBHM 
 
 60 
 
 FOR KING ANl) COUNTRV. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 i 
 
 4 
 
 AT THE ELMS. 
 
 " Death is cold, but life is warm. 
 And the fervent day? wc knew, 
 Ere our hopes grew faint .ind few, 
 Claim, even now, a happy sigh, 
 Thinking of those hours gone by." 
 
 CAPTAIN PERCIVAL had been duly introduced 
 to Lilias, not neglecting the opportunity of paying 
 some delicate compliments, such as, in those days, were 
 a matter-of-course courtesy to ladies, and which Lilias 
 had seen enough of military society to take as such, 
 though in this case they represented the true sentiments 
 of the speaker more accurately than was often the case. 
 And, after a course of semi-starvation at wretched inns, 
 the Captain was quite in a condition to enjoy heartily 
 the hospitable meal which at The Elms was a sort of 
 compromise between the early country "supper" and 
 the late dinner of what the Major still called "civilized' 
 life. It was, with him, the most substantial mer' >* 
 day, and he enjoyed it especially, when, as in the cseni 
 instance, he had a guest with whom he could converse on 
 the congenial subjects of old FCngland and the militar) 
 
AT THE ELMS. 
 
 6l 
 
 news of the day. The meal was a pretty long one, 
 retarded as it was by the flow of questions and answers ; 
 for Major Meredith's appetite was keen for all details of 
 news from his old well-remembered county, and Captain 
 Percival was able to communicate so much. It was by 
 no means exhausted even when, leaving the room where 
 they had supped, the Major led the way to the pleasant 
 portico, where the air was laden with the lilac blooms, 
 dispensing their sweet evening perfume, and with the 
 other vague wandering fragrances of a summer evening. 
 It was very still, too, save for the occasional even-song of 
 the birds from the tall maples and thick spruces ; and the 
 mellow glow of the sunset lay in tremulous golden gleams 
 among the foliage, and on the unshaven grass below. 
 Lilias, with a bit of delicate muslin embroidery in her 
 hand, took a low seat at a little* distance from the gentle- 
 men, listening to their talk, while the aroma of the 
 Major's fragrant tobacco stole out to mingle with the 
 incense-laden air. The mellow cadences of the stranger's 
 voice, and his careless, graceful talk, were agreeable 
 enough, yet Lilias thought regretfully of Ernest, and 
 of the pleasant, quiet evening they would have enjoyed 
 but for the unexpected guest. Agreeable and polished 
 as he certainly was, the French reading and the talk 
 that would have followed it — pleasant talk about a thou- 
 sand things with a friend whom she had not seen for 
 several weeks — would have been very much more enjoy- 
 
62 
 
 VOk KING AND COUNTliV. 
 
 able than listening to a stranger's conversation about 
 people who were only names to her, or hearing him 
 describe with a soldier's enthusiasm — veiled, however, 
 by his habitually careles'^ tone — the siege of Ciudad 
 Rodrigo, full particulars of .vhich he had had in a letter 
 from an old comrade. At last, when the Major's thirst 
 for information had been pretty thoroughly ' satisfied, 
 and when he and his companion had exhau.sted their 
 conjectures as to Lord Wellington's probable course, 
 and the possible results of the campaign, the talk drifted 
 into channels nearer home, and the threatening aspect 
 of Canadian affairs. 
 
 " It's something quite new to me," said Percival. 
 " At home they don't sc^m to have any idea of such a 
 state of things." 
 
 *' Yes, they look at us through the wrong end of the 
 spy-glass just now, and it's my opinion they're making 
 rather a mistake. The people here are growing discon- 
 tented that the folks at home seem to care so little about 
 us, and though I always pooh-pooh such talk on prin- 
 ciple, — it's a bad habit to get into, you know, speaking 
 evil of authorities, — still, tntrt: nous, I do think some 
 one is making a mistake, not to be more wide awake to 
 the designs of our neighbours here." 
 
 And then the Major launched forth into an exposition 
 of the subject, explaining how old animosities were still 
 rankUng on both sides ; how the imprudent haval pre - 
 
AT tHE ELMS. 
 
 6s 
 
 tensions of Britain, and the rash, high-handed action 
 of Admiral Humphreys, had intensely exasperated the 
 existing ill-feeling ; how the American sympathy with 
 Napoleon mingled with American ambition and anti- 
 British feeling ; how the American Government seemed 
 trying to provoke a declaration of war, even going the 
 length of ordering such gratuitous acts of offence as the 
 firing at peaceful merchant vessels diopping quietly down 
 the Niagara river. 
 
 " The fact is," he added, " we've stood just about as 
 much from them as we ought to stand, and a little more, 
 in my opinion. We've just about come to the point when 
 forbearance becomes weakness, and if 7ve don't come to 
 the scratch soon, they will !" 
 
 " Well, I car:'t say I should be sorry if the rascals 
 should give us a chance to pepper them," said Percival. 
 "It wouldn't have quite so much rcnommc'e about it as 
 lighting the French, to be sure ; but it would, at least, 
 be better than vegetating in your woods here, hunting 
 deer, and the * coons ' the people talk about." 
 
 " Don't be afraid ; you'll have enough to do before 
 long, or I'm no prophet," was the Major's reply. 
 
 Captain Percival's speech was a natural one enough 
 for a soldier, tired of inaction, eager for the fray, and 
 troubling himself little with deeper thoughts. Hut on 
 Lilias, whose sensibilities had been excited by having 
 the real possibilities and consequences of war brought 
 
i !| 
 
 iPi 
 
 il 
 
 ■ '.I 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 
 ■i h 
 
 ! i 
 
 It 
 
 64 
 
 visibly before her imagination, it fell with a strong thrill 
 of repulsion. Her own military ardour, which was only 
 the romantic enthusiasm of youthful ignorance — seeing 
 the ideal through a mist of glory that conceals the horror 
 of the reality, — was not strong enough to prevent her 
 from being repelled and chilled by this seemingly cold- 
 blooded view of possible war. Captain Percival, with 
 his graceful exterior and bearing, seemed to sink to the 
 level of " common " human beings at once. 
 
 " The colonists here seem to think they have a good 
 many things to grumble at," he remarked, as he lighted a 
 new cigar. And he gave a condensed resume' of part of 
 the conversation in the stage. 
 
 " Well ! part of it is a true bill enough ! Even I can't 
 help seeing that, Tory as I am ! If there had on.y been 
 a little more ' gumption,' as Jacob Thurstane would say, 
 about the Colonial Office, they might have made Canada 
 a trump-card to Great Britain in her present troubles. 
 If they had taken the trouble to help us with a little 
 capital to make roads and open up the country, — offered 
 inducements to immigration, and, in general, taken a more 
 active interest in us, — she might have had a regular 
 granarv here, to supply her now she is cut off from the 
 European corn-fields. As it is, the stream of emigration 
 has drifted right past us, to add wealth and strength to 
 our neighbours. Yankees have come in and taken up 
 free grants, just to sell them and pocket a nice sum by 
 
 
AT THE ELMS. 
 
 6S 
 
 the speculation ; our roads are as you see them ; 
 
 and, to crown all, our Government here has exasperated 
 
 the people into discontent and irritation by a grasping, 
 
 selfish policy, and by unjust and despotic arrests. 
 
 [There's a nice state of affairs for you, with -a powerful 
 
 lenemy watching as a cat docs a mouse ; — with nearly 
 
 two thousand miles of frontier to defend, and about four 
 
 {thousand regular soldiers to do it with, and a volunteer 
 
 force small enough, and not over well organised. If Mr. 
 
 [Pitt had lived now, things might have been different, 
 
 Ibut England won't make good his loss in a huny. Well, 
 
 Ihere I am, talking radical enougli for our worthy shoe- 
 
 Imaker himself ! I am glad there arc none of our Oak- 
 
 Iridge people by to hear me. They would think I had 
 
 [gone ' clean daft,' as Davie Watson would say !" 
 
 And the worthy Major shook the ashes out of his 
 
 )ipe with a vigorous knock, and got up to walk off his 
 
 llittlc excitement by pacing up and down the avenue, 
 
 jwhile Captain Percival, turning to Lilias, began to talk 
 
 to her about the English relatives who were such strangers 
 
 to her beyond what she could learn of them through an 
 
 loccasional letter. 
 
 "Your aunt, Lady Herbert, told me to be sure to 
 
 [persuade Major Meredith to send you to them for a 
 
 /hile," he said. " She said they would undertake to 
 
 take excellent care of you." 
 
 Lilias smiled as she replied : ** 1 wouldn't be afraid 
 
 5 
 
 
 
66 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 H 
 
 of that, but I shouldn't go unless my father did ; I could 
 not leave him alone here. I should like very much to 
 see them all, though : — or even to know what they 
 are like." 
 
 - Captain Percival had been watching her attentively 
 while she spoke. A faint gleam from a light within 
 showed dimly the outline of her features and the turn 
 of her head, as she sat half facing him. He sat silent 
 for a few moments, as if a chord of memory had been 
 suddenly touched, and had abstracted him from the 
 present. Then he replied, rather abruptly and with a 
 slight sigh — 
 
 "Your cousin Marian, at least, strongly resembles 
 you." 
 
 Something in his tone or manner somehow struck 
 Lilias, and brought to her mind, all at once, a passage 
 from one of her aunt's letters some time before, in which 
 she had hinted at the evident attentions which a promis- 
 ing young officer had been paying to Marian, and she 
 wondered whether this could be the one. She said, 
 simply, as the only reply she could think of at the 
 moment : — 
 
 " I should be glad to think so, for I believe my 
 cousin is thought ^ry pretty as well as very amiable." 
 
 " She is the former," he replied, with a slightly bitter 
 intonation contrasting strangely with his usual gliding 
 smoothness of tone. " The latter she may be, to people 
 
AT THE ELMS. 
 
 67 
 
 jly resembles 
 
 in general, but I am unfortunate enough not to have 
 had any special reason to think so. Not that I mean, 
 however, to disparage Miss Herbert's excellent qualities 
 in the least ! I have no doubt any fault there may have 
 been was on my side." 
 
 Lilias was somewhat nonplussed at an answer so 
 different from what she had expected, and felt relieved 
 when her father, having walked himself into a calmer 
 mood, came up to invite Percival to go in and finish 
 the day by drinking a birth-day toast to his Majesty 
 in orthodox English fashion. " And then to bed," he 
 added, " for I am tired, and you must be doubly so, 
 after jolting all day in that lumbering affair which we, 
 out here, call a stage." 
 
 Lilias, after seeing that the stranger's room was in 
 all respects comfortably prepared for the guest, retired 
 to her own, and, putting out her light, made the moon, 
 just rising over the tall pines to the eastward of her 
 window, do duty instead. A good many thoughts came 
 crowding into her mind ere she slept. The new acquaint- 
 ance, in particular, furnished not a few speculations as 
 to why he spoke with evident bitterness of her cousin. 
 But Captain Percival soon vanished from her thoughts, 
 to be replaced by Ernest Heathcote. She felt very 
 sorry for him, for she saw he was feeling lonely and 
 depressed, and she knew that life was hard for him. 
 If it could only be made easier ! It was so easy for her 
 
■i -W 
 
 HM 
 
 a 
 
 FOR KINO AND COUNTRY. 
 
 ji 
 
 t i 
 
 I 
 
 —comparatively. Then she thought of his anxiety about 
 his cousin Rachel, and the words he had used, " on my 
 own account," — recurred to her thoughts. She wondered 
 whether it might not be a little " on his own account " 
 that he was troubled about the possibility of Rachel's 
 affection being gained by the young lieutenant. She 
 was so pretty and so winning ; and Ernest had been so 
 fond of her ever since she was a baby. It would not 
 be at all surprising ! And yet Lilias could not exactly 
 imagine Ernest, so thoughtful, so intellectual, finding a 
 life companion in a girl whose mind, as to either ideas 
 or information, was such a tabula rasa as that of Rachel 
 Thurstane. However, she had often heard old Nannie 
 declare that there was " nae accountin' for the fancies 
 men take, puir bodies." At any rate it was no affair 
 of hers, and she was angry with herself that the thought 
 should trouble her. If Ernest did care for and marry 
 Rachel, she would be his very good friend still, as she 
 always had been. And she would try to keep an eye 
 on Rachel, and prevent her happiness^ being wrecked 
 by the unscrupulous lieutenant. And, thinking thus, 
 she drifted off into the land of dreams. 
 
 Captain Percival slept soundly and long in a bed 
 whose comfortable softness and snowy linen presented 
 a striking contrast to the varieties of the species with 
 which he had made acquaintance in Canada, to say 
 nothing of ship-board. When he awoke, the full sun- 
 
AT THE ELMS. 
 
 <H> 
 
 shine of a June morning filled the room, screened though 
 it partially was by the white drawn-down blind ; for Vene- 
 tians were not yet, even in large houses like " The Elms." 
 
 Lilias had been up for a long time before Pcrcival 
 descended. She had been busily engaged in various 
 domestic avocations ; had paid her morning visit to her 
 four-footed favourites, fed the chickens, given thos<B 
 delicate fowls, the young turkeys, her especial attention, 
 helped in " seeing to " the breakfast, which, out of con- 
 sideration to the stranger, was unusually late ; and had 
 gathered the fresh bouquet of spring flowers that adorned 
 the breakfast table, set out with the fine old china which 
 Lilias' mother had brought with her as a bride, and 
 which was still reserved for special occasions. And 
 now, looking bright and fresh in her pale chintz morning- 
 dress, neatly and simply fashioned, she was sitting, deep 
 in "Marmion," by the open window, partly shaded by 
 the young green leaves of a trellised grape vine. She 
 was so absorbed in the poem that she did not notice 
 the quiet entrance of their guest until aroused by his 
 courteous "good morning." 
 
 " I hope you rested well .-*" she said, as she rose to 
 ring the hand-bell to summon her father in from his 
 morning round in the fields. 
 
 "Better than I have done since I left England," he 
 replied, and the improved and brightened expression of 
 his fair-complexioned English face seemed to show that 
 
u 
 
 1:1 
 
 V'l 
 
 ^;f 
 
 70 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 he had benefited by the rest. " May I look at the book 
 that interests you so much .'"' he added, taking up the 
 volume she had laid down. 
 
 *'Ah! * Marmion ;' no wonder it fascinates you! It 
 is a magnificent thing ! Even I, though no great poetry 
 lover, can appreciate it. It helped to aggravate a good 
 deal 'the winter of my discontent,' even while it made 
 me forget my ennui, — when I was lying by, confined 
 to one room, and even to one position. You see long 
 abstinence has made me ravenous for action," he said 
 smiling. 
 
 "Yes, it must have been hard to read anything so 
 stirring, when you had to keep quiet. But I am afraid 
 I don't wish you much action of the kind you want ;" 
 she added, with her characteristic frank simplicity, — the 
 frankness of one who had never known any need for 
 disguise. 
 
 " Oh, but you mustn't grudge us a chance to show 
 what we can do — we poor fellows who can't do much else 
 than fight ! " he replied. " Come, Major Meredith," he 
 added, after returning the Major's hearty greeting, " you 
 must help me to defend the noble art of war ! I am 
 afraid Miss Meredith isn't sound on that subject." 
 
 " Well, I don't know that I should like my little girl to 
 enjoy the prospect of it for its own sake. There's enough 
 misery about it always, to make one want to keep it away 
 as long as possible. I haven't forgotten Bunker's Hill 
 
 i: 
 
AT THE ELMS. 
 
 71 
 
 and Brandywine, and if I could, I'd keep it off yet, 
 even though I should have no fears for the result ; and I 
 think the first bugle-call wouldn't leave me behind I But 
 come, let us have breakfast ! " 
 
 The well-spread breakfiist-table was tempting enough, 
 with its light, home-made rolls, fresh eggs, dried venison, 
 and delicious "white fish" from the lake, fresh caught 
 that morning by black Sambo's net. Major Meredith 
 liked to give his guests a substantial breakfast, and to see 
 them enioy it. He " hadn't much opinion of a man who 
 couldn't take his breakfast,'' he used to say, and he set a 
 good example himself. 
 
 Captain Percival recurred to the subject of " Marmion." 
 " Since you like that kind of thing, Miss Meredith," he said, 
 " you must let me send you a later poem by the same 
 author, one just published — ' The Lady of the Lake. 
 Some people think it even finer than the other, though I 
 can't say I do ; but there's not so much fighting in it, and 
 that will be a recommendation in your eyes. The author, 
 a Scotchman, has become quite celebrated of late. His 
 poems are becoming very popular." 
 
 " It shouldn't be such a distinction to h^ facile princepSy 
 now-a-days, as in days I can recollect," said Major Mere- 
 dith. " There are not many great lights in literature now, 
 so far as I can see, away out of the world as 1 am here." 
 
 " Well, as regards poetry, there are the people they 
 call the * Lake Poets,' — Wordsworth, Southey, and so on 
 
 
r' i: 
 
 ii 
 
 72 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 Some people think a great deal of their poetry, though, to 
 my taste, any of it that I have seen seems very prosy and 
 dull. And there's a young nobleman — Lord Byron — has 
 made some very clever hits. I shouldn't wonder if we 
 heard more from him yet, if he doesn't kill himself soon 
 by the hard life he lives. Then there's Mr. Bentham and 
 some of his radical friends, who are bringing out all sorts 
 of queer notions in political economy;" added the young 
 officer, somewhat scornfully. 
 
 "Ah, those were the days ! the time when I was a 
 young fellow like you," pursued the Major regretfully, and 
 rather as if he were following his own train of thought 
 than replying to the other. " Why, my dear sir, when I was 
 your age, and was quartered in Kensington Barracks, one 
 had only to take a ramble about town to get a sight of 
 men, aye and women too, whose na.nes have been in 
 men's mouths ever since ! Or, if you went to Parliament 
 House, it's ten chances to one that you would hear Pitt or 
 Fox, or Burke — perhaps Hartley — a man that could speak 
 five or six hours on a stretch, and so was a natural curi- 
 osity, prosy as he was. Why, once he was known to 
 speak from five in the afternoon till ten, while his oppo- 
 nent, Mr. Jenkinson, went off for a ride into the country, 
 spent the evening out of town, and came leisurely back to 
 find him speaking still I Then you might hear Garrick or 
 Mrs. .Siddons at Drury Lane or Covent Garden ; and 
 there you might see in one row, sitting, with tears in 
 
At thk elms. 
 
 n 
 
 their eyes, listening to ' Romeo and Juliet/ — Burke and 
 Reynolds, and Gibbon, and Sheridan, and Fox, as I saw 
 them one night that I went there with your poor father 
 and Ned Selwyn, of the Navy, who went down in the 
 Royal George, poor fellow ! As for Fox, he made a point 
 of going to hear Mrs. Siddons whenever it was possible." 
 
 " Yes, I've often heard my father speak of those times," 
 said Percival ; " and he took me once, as a boy, to hear 
 Mrs. Siddons, who was magnificent even then." 
 
 " And if you went to Ranelagh or the Pantheon of an 
 evening, and knew who was who, what people you might 
 see! Horace Walpole, — Lord Keppel, — Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds, perhaps, or Mrs. Montague, or Mrs. Thrale, 
 with Piozzi. Or taking a walk along Fleet-street you 
 might see old Dr. Johnson sauntering along, with Bozzy 
 beside him, like a great hulking man-of-war with a smart 
 corvette alongside. Ah, those were tie times ! " he re- 
 peated with a sigh, forgetting his unfinished breakfast in 
 the train of reminiscences he had called up before his men- 
 tal vision. " And Lilias here doesn't even know what 
 Fleet-street or Ranelagh is like, — brought up among In- 
 dians and rustics ! " he added half regretfully. 
 
 " A deficiency of knowledge which I trust she will make 
 up ere long, when you take her over for a visit, Major, 
 Yet I don't know but Miss Meredith is quite as well with- 
 out some of the lessons she might have learned in the 
 ' great world ; ' " — added Percival, glancing with a certain 
 
74 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 respectful admiration at Lilias' bright, attentive face, its 
 innocent freshness all undimmcd by the glare and excite- 
 ment of London " seasons." " However," he added, " Miss 
 Meredith would find an abundance of things and people 
 to interest her in London, I do not doubt." 
 
 " I should like to see Mr. Wilberforce, Mr. Clarkson, 
 and Mr. Granville Sharp ; " said Lilias ; — these being the 
 heroes who loomed most largely in her imagination, seen 
 through the halo with which the enthusiastic admiration of 
 Ernest Heathcote had invested them. 
 
 Captain Percival smiled. They were not precisely the 
 class of objects he had thought most likely to interest a 
 young girl new to the world of London. 
 
 " My little girl is a devotee of the abolitionists," said 
 Major Meredith. " She's got an old negress here who 
 can tell something of the horrors of the slave trade ; and 
 hearing some of her stories of what she has felt and seen 
 makes even my old English blood boil up ! " 
 
 "Yes, there's no doubt it was a scandalous iniquity for 
 a free country like England to be keeping up such a traf- 
 fic, and Wilberforce and his friends deserve great credit ;" 
 replied Percival, but the faint praise sounded chilling to 
 Lilias, accustomed to Ernest Heathcote's intense feeling 
 on the subject. 
 
 " Of course you've heard. Major, of all the wonders 
 Watt and Arkwright have been performing with steam ; " 
 pursued the Captain. " They will revolutionise all our 
 
 i 
 
AT THE ELMS. 
 
 75 
 
 travelling, industrial arts, — everything, — if they go on as 
 they are doing." 
 
 " Yes, it's wonderful, —wonderful ! We've one steam- 
 boat down in Lower Canada, the 'Acommodation,' be- 
 tween Montreal and Quebec ; you came up in it, eh ? 
 Well, I took Lilias for a trip in it up and down, when I 
 was bringing her away from school, and I felt just like a 
 child looking at a new toy ! I couldn't take my eyes off 
 that witchcraft-looking walking-beam, going up and down, 
 up and down, till it makes one tired to look at it, and 
 never a sail to hoist or reef, or need to care which way the 
 wind blows ! It did seem more like black art to me than 
 anything else ! " 
 
 " Yes, it's a wonderful invention. I expect they'll be 
 crossing the Atlantic with steam vessels before long." 
 
 " I see they're talking of it, by the papers. Though 
 how they'll get fuel enough stowed away, I can't see. 
 Well, if ever that time comes, Lilias, I'll take you a run 
 across ! And then this wonderful project of running steam 
 carriages ; — that does seem a wild idea ! Do you think 
 they'll ever manage it ? " 
 
 " I shouldn't like to say what they might not manage ; 
 they've succeeded with so many queer things ; " replied 
 Percival. 
 
 " Just think, Lilias," said the Major ; " a carriage pro- 
 pelled by steam, puffing along our road here ! That would 
 be a change from John Wardle's lumbering stage, and I 
 
7<^ 
 
 fOR KINO AND COUNTRY. 
 
 suppose it would go a trifle faster. What a commotion it 
 would make, and how it would frighten all the horses and 
 cows ! " 
 
 And Lilias, as well as her father, laughed at the pos- 
 sibility. 
 
 " That objection has been urged against it at home," re- 
 plied Percival, gravely ; " but I suppose the creatures 
 would get used to it in time." 
 
 The breakfast and the talk being at last ended, Cap- 
 tain Percival volunteered his services in opening the deal 
 box addressed to Miss Meredith, which still stood in the 
 iobby. Lilias very willingly accepted the offer, for she 
 was rather impatient to have its concealed treasures 
 brought to light. The opening of a box from England 
 was always a pleasant little bit of excitement. Lady Her- 
 bert, who very much pitied the wild Canadian exile of her 
 brother's daughter, availed herself of every opportunity 
 to send contributions to her wardrobe of the latest Lon- 
 don style, so that " the poor girl might have something fit 
 to wear, if she did live in the backwoods ; " and there 
 were always some pretty, graceful trifles, besides, from 
 Lilias' cousins ; — little odds and ends, bearing the stamp 
 and exhaling the aroma of a world of civilization and in- 
 vention very different from the rude simpUcity of primitive 
 Canadian life. 
 
 So, on this occasion, after exhausting her own and old 
 Nannie's admiration over the delicately embroidered 
 
AT THE ELMS. 
 
 77 
 
 "frock" of India muslin, the "spencer" of rich "chang- 
 ing" silk, and the pretty cottage bonnet, with its wreath of 
 wild rosebuds, constituting a toilette that would have been 
 faultless on Oxford-street or the Mall, — Lilias delightedly 
 drew out of manifold paper and wrappers a pretty vase of 
 the new Wedgewood ware, gracefully painted ; a brightly 
 bound " annual ;" a gilt-topped scent-bottle ; and last, but 
 not least, a prettily painted miniature of her cousin, Marian 
 Herbert. This was the crowning gift of ail, for Lilias had 
 never before seen a portrait of any of her English rela- 
 tives, except the rather stiff one of her aunt, as a little 
 girl, which hung on the sitting-room wall. As she handed 
 the picture to Captain Percival for inspection, after a long 
 and admiring survey, she could not help glancing at him 
 with a little curiosity. She caught a passing expression of 
 pain, mingled perhaps with a tinge of pique ; but his 
 rather dry expression of opinion as he praised the like- 
 ness as a good one, did not enlighten her much as o the 
 feelings with which he regarded her cousin. 
 
 There was, however, in the box, along with the file 
 of newspapers, — a welcome sight to the Major, — and the 
 long letter from his sister, still more welcome in a time 
 when trans-Atlantic communication was even more unfre- 
 quent and precarious than usual, — a shorter letter to Lilias 
 from her cousin, in which, after the usual rather formal 
 expres'^.ions of cousinly good wishes and of the desire 
 that she would visit England, the fair writer seemed rather 
 
78 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 
 to dwell on the mention of Captain Percival, about whose 
 health, she said, his friends were still anxious. " If you, 
 my dear cousin," ran the letter, " will kindly mention par- 
 ticularly his health and welfare when you write, it will, I 
 am sure, be very grateful to his family while so widely 
 separated from him, as I will take care to tell them of any 
 tidings you may Gcnd me." 
 
 Lilias smiled to herself a quiet little smile, and re- 
 solved to keep her cousin well supplied with all the infor- 
 mation she could give her. 
 
 1 
 
AN AFIERNOON RIDE. 
 
 7$ 
 
 Ci AFTER V. 
 
 AN AtTERNOON RIDE. 
 
 " Right graciously he smiled on us, as rolled from wing to wing. 
 Down all our line a deafening shout, — God save our lord the Kuig !" 
 
 MAJOR MEREDITH had planned a little after- 
 noon excursion, on horseback of course, to 
 Tnuse his guest by showing him something of the sur- 
 ounding country, and what was more especially interest- 
 ing to himself, to point out the gradual improvements 
 that the settlers were matcing on their "clearings," and 
 other signs of progress and development. These, as he 
 felt himself to be in some sort grand seigneur of the dis- 
 trict, he took a pride in demonstrating to a stranger, fill- 
 ing in the picture with a graphic description of what /tad 
 been, only a few years before. 
 
 " We'll go back as far as Tom Winter's clearing, Lilias," 
 said he, " then come out en the lake shore by the Red 
 Cedars, and home by the Lake Farm. Mrs. Thurstane 
 will give us some curds and cream, and we'll show Cap- 
 tain Percival pretty little Rachel, and Jacob Thurstane. 
 Oh ! by the way, he was one of your fellow-travellers yes- 
 terday, Percival. There's a man would do credit to any 
 
 '111 
 
 ''■'11 
 
 s ii 
 
|q[ for king and country. 
 
 country, — sturdy, honest old loyalist that he is ! He's 
 been roy right-hand man for many a year." 
 
 The little party set out, Captain Percival mounted on 
 the best riding-horse the Major possessed, — Hector being 
 stir, hors de combai; — and taking a bridle-path that led 
 into the deep heart of the forest, rode gently along a de- 
 vious way; winding mysteriously amid soft confused 
 biondings of light and shade, now in a deep shadow 
 through which the June sunlight could scarcely penetrate, 
 now amid flickering sunbeams that struggled through in- 
 terlaced boughs of hemlock, oak and iron-wood. Some- 
 times the path lay along a damp morass, where mud-holes 
 were frequent, but where the stones were covered with 
 velvety emerald moss, and crested with clusters of im- 
 mense ferns, — and where the long trailing creepers of the 
 partridge-berry, with its snowy waxen blossoms, or the 
 deep, dark wintergreen, carpeted the way. Now and then 
 they came out upon a bright open bit of clearing, and 
 fields green with the young grain ; and from the log 
 " shanty " came out the inmates, well pleased to have a 
 visit from the Major, whose appreciation of and sympathy 
 with their labours they knew they could count upon, and 
 duly impressed with the honour of a visit from one of His 
 Majesty's ofiicers in active service. The men were eager 
 to knov/ from him what was said " at home " about the 
 " Yankees," and the women listened anxiously while war 
 possibilities were discussed, — the enthusiastic, hardy land- 
 
 au ■ i 
 
 m 
 
AN AFTERNOON RIDE. 
 
 8l 
 
 and 
 His 
 iger 
 the 
 war 
 
 tillers declaring their readiness to turn out for King and 
 Country, to the last drop of blood. 
 
 " It will go hard with us if we don't keep the country 
 for the King, God bless him ! " — said one of the loyal old 
 pensioners, between whom and United Empire loyalists 
 the land in the neighbourhood was pretty equally divided. 
 The visitors received many pressing invitations to partake 
 of such simple hospitality as their cabins could command, 
 and it was all the Major could do to get away from his 
 friends without giving offence. But when Tom Winter's 
 " shanty " was reached, the old wooden-legged seaman 
 would take no denial. " His honour, and the Captain, 
 and Miss Lilias too, must take a bit," or at least drink the 
 King's health with him in a glass of the " grog," of which 
 report said old Tom was rather fonder than was good for 
 him. Yet, if so, its bad effect was more than counter- 
 balanced by his laborious open-air life, for his ruddy- 
 brown complexion showed as hale and healthy under the 
 white hair and above the white beard as when, in the 
 West India squadron under Admiral Rodney, he had ex- 
 changed his original limb of flesh and blood for the 
 wooden one on which he now hobbled about. His " old 
 woman," full of old English idioms, as quaint as her mob 
 cap, was almost as bright and " clever " as when she had 
 danced on a village green around a May-pole, in days 
 when such an institution still flourished. Having got a 
 
 grant of land in Canada in lieu :>f pension, the old sailor 
 
 6 
 
 
 I 
 
 
FOR KING ANt) COUNTRV, 
 
 
 had gone to work with his axe as bravely as he had ever 
 helped to fire a broadside into an opposing squadron; and 
 now his little farm could bear a good comparison with 
 any in that fertile district. He led his visitors about it 
 proudly enough, telling the Captain, with whom he frater- 
 nised at once on the ground of " His Majesty's Service," 
 how many a tough battle he had had with the forest giants 
 before his log-hut was raised, intermingling his pleased 
 talk concerning his little crops, with anecdotes, which he 
 was never tired of ventilating, about his old commander 
 in the West India squadron, and the various chances of 
 the "American War," all of which were stiU. vivid and 
 fresh in a mind which, for so many years, had known little 
 to mark the passage of time save growing infirmities, and 
 the monotonous changes of the season in the forest wil- 
 derness. When at last, much against his will, he had to 
 let his visitors depart he gave them a feeble parting 
 cheer, md another for His Majesty — protesting to the 
 last, th;ii f those rascally Yankees did come, they should 
 lind a good broadside awaiting them from his old rifle, 
 which had shot a good many wolves and deer in its day. 
 
 The forest grew more open after leaving Tom Winter's 
 cabin, — the clearings more frequent. They passed open 
 rocky dells filled with a profuse growth of underwood, all 
 snowy with clustered blossoms — dog-wood, elder, wild- 
 plum and cherry, and Canadian hawthorn ; and some- 
 times, overpowering all the other sweet scents that filled 
 
AN AFTERNOON RIDE. 
 
 83 
 
 the air, a waft of luscious fragrance crossed their path 
 from an immense wild grape-vine, which threw its almost 
 tropical luxuriance from tree to tree in rich and graceful 
 festoons. Here and there a squirrel or " chipmunk" 
 darted across the path and sprang up the nearest tree, 
 whence it sent forth its eager chattering chirp ; or a bright 
 blue-bird or a scarlet tanager made a flash of coloured 
 light as it flew into the green shadow of the forest ; or 
 the plaintive cry of the cat-bird came mysteriously out of 
 some shady covert. Sometimes, too, what looked like 
 long striped sticks lymg in their path, moved and wrig- 
 gled away mto the shadow of the nearest shrub. *' These 
 are only harmless garter-snakes," explained the Major, 
 "but you need to be on your guard, for rattlesnakes often 
 lurk in these moist bits of woods, and may be upon you 
 before you know.'' 
 
 It was not long before they had ocular demonstration 
 of the truth of his words. At a turn in the road they 
 came suddenly upon a solitary squaw, sitting wrapped in 
 her blanket, on a stone by the road-side. She held a 
 papoose to her breast, and seemed overcome with fatigue 
 and drowsiness, for she was leaning with closed eyes, and 
 evidently half asleep, against the trunk of a tree behind 
 her. Captain Percival at once recognized the squaw who 
 had been his fellow-traveller the day before, but before he 
 could speak, Major Meredith darted forward with a shout 
 that awoke her at once. 
 
 1 
 
 ; -i^ 
 

 84 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 "A rattlesnake!" said Lilias, in a low tone of horror ; 
 and almost before Percival could distinguish the creature, 
 which, with erected head, was gliding towards the sleeping 
 squaw with its ominous rattle, the Major had sprung from 
 his horse and despatched the noxious reptile with one 
 blow of his riding-whip. The squaw started up, instinct- 
 ively clasping her child to her breast, before she saw what 
 the danger really was. The Major greeted her as an old 
 acquaintance, and pointing to the dead snake, addressed 
 her in the broken dialect, half Indian, half English, which 
 the Indians used, asking her how she came to go to sleep 
 in so dangerous a place. The squaw said hardly a word, 
 only looked timidly into his face with a half shy, half 
 mournful smile, her dark expressive eyes conveying the 
 thanks she could not speak. In a minute or two her 
 husband came up, rifle in hand, with which he had been 
 shooting squirrels. Then the squaw's tongue seemed 
 loosed, and she explained to him in her native language, 
 in low soft accents, pointing to the Major and the dead 
 rattlesnake. He c ime up to the Major, who had re- 
 mounted, and saluting him and LiHas with grave respect, 
 spoke a few earnest words of thanks, ending with, — 
 " Black Hawk no forget white Sachem saved squaw's life." 
 " He's a fine fellow that," said the Major as they moved 
 on ; " I have known him from a boy, and his father before 
 him. They belong to one of the bravest tribes of our 
 Indian allies. Yonder is their encampment, on that rising 
 
AN AFTERNOON RIDE. 
 
 «5 
 
 ground half hidden by the trees, on the other side jf the 
 creek." 
 
 Captain Percival could just distinguish, across the dark 
 glistening waters of the winding creek, the outlines of 
 several wigwams, so disposed as to be almost concealed 
 by the trees, the white bmoke curling from a fire in front, 
 around which some dark figures were flitting. 
 
 They came out at last on the fresh breezy lake, ruffled 
 out of its soft blue .)i ihe day before, into a deeper, colder 
 hue, on which in the distance some snowy white-caps 
 were to be distinguished. The captain declared ihat it 
 was almost as good as the sea, as the wide expanse 
 opened before them between the boughs of the majestic 
 cedars that here fringed the shore, some of them bending 
 over it in fantastic forms ; and the cool fresh breeze 
 that curled the wavelets over on the white pebbles fanned 
 their faces, heated with the long ride. 
 
 There was a mile or two of good road before they 
 reached the Lake Farm, and some level stretches of 
 beach, upon which the horses, inspirited by the breeze, 
 cantered gaily along. They rode up the lane, fringed 
 with low trees and bushes, Lilian talking with unusual 
 animation after the brisk ride. 
 
 The farm-house was built of logs, like most farm-houses 
 of that day, but was larger and more commodious than 
 most ; and about a rude porch, and over the front wall, 
 cUmbed a luxuriant wild vine, filling the air with the 
 
 
I' 
 
 86 
 
 FOR KINO AND COUNTRY. 
 
 delicious fragrance of its blossoms. The festoons of green 
 leaves framed a pretty picture — Rachel Thurstane sitting 
 at her spinning-wheel, her softly rounded, childish face, 
 with its fresh peachy tints, showing clear against the in- 
 terior. On the door-step Ernest Heathcote was sitting in 
 a half reclining attitude, apparently reading aloud. 
 
 " Ah ! quite an Arcadian picture !" exclaimed Captain 
 Percival to Lilias, in a low tone, as they approached. 
 " Corydon and Phillis only want crooks and shepherds* 
 hats to make it perfect ! I declare the little girl has quite 
 the face of a Grenze." 
 
 Lilias hardly knew why the Captain's light, careless 
 remark caused a slight thrill of pain, akin to that she had 
 felt the day before when Ernest had spoken of his cousin. 
 She was provoked with herself. Why should it annoy 
 her that Rachel and he should make an Arcadian picture ? 
 And why should he not be reading to his cousin ? What 
 could be more natural .'' Yet she would hardly have 
 thought there could have been intellectual sympathy 
 enough between them for that, for Rachel did not care 
 for books. Somehow, in spite of her efforts, Lilias' ani- 
 mation vanished, and it was with a grave, almost an ab- 
 stracted manner, that she responded to the delighted 
 greeting of Ernest, who came forward eagerly to assist her 
 to dismount, with a ready courtesy of bearing in which 
 even the critical Percival could find no fault. 
 
 Rachel shrank back on seeing a stranger with her old 
 
 !f !t 
 
AN AnERNOON RIDE. 
 
 «7 
 
 friends, while Mrs. Thurstane, in her grey homespun 
 gown, white kerchief and cap, and her sweet, cahn, 
 patient face, came forward to do the honours of her 
 humble home with the ([uict dignity of her Quaker 
 character, as her visitors gladly sat down to rest in the 
 cool, clean apartment which, half kitchen, half sitting- 
 room, was the family living-room ; — the small windows 
 needing no other curtains than the interlacing green 
 leaves of the vine. The Major greeted his favourite 
 Rachel with his usual playful friendship, and brought her 
 forward to be introduced. The child, for she was hardly 
 more, was really very pretty, with a soft fawn-like look, 
 and a slight archness about the blue eyes and rounded 
 eyebrov/s that gave some character to what otherwise 
 would have been a face of mere placid contentment. But 
 the presence of the strange officer made her shy and 
 silent, and she was evidently very glad when Lilias — with 
 whom she had always been a sort of pet— proposed that 
 she should go with her for their usual ramble. 
 
 Ernest gladly availed himself of the opportunity to ac- 
 company them, pleased to enjoy the society of Lilias for 
 a little while out of reach of Percival's observant eyes, 
 which, he felt or fancied, rested critically, if not curiously, on 
 himself whenever he tried to talk to her; even though he 
 did so, instinctively, with a deference of manner greater 
 than was usual to the frank and friendly terms of intimacy 
 on which they stood. There are other ways than words. 
 
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 rOA kiNO AND COtJNTfeV. 
 
 or even looks, by which we learn to understand the senti- 
 ments of others, and Ernest knew as well as if he had 
 been told, that this stranger, who, without any offensive 
 assumption of superiority, evidently considered him an in- 
 ferior, would set down as preisumption on his part any 
 token of the intimacy which really existed between him and 
 Miss Meredith. Lilias was quick to feel the difference in 
 his manner, and it added to the slight constraint of her 
 own, so that both breathed an inward sigh of relief when 
 they found themselves out in the fresh breezy pasture 
 fields, amid frisking lambs and placid browsing cows ; and 
 the influence of the sweet pure air, and the foam-flecked 
 lake, whose pale azure waves were curling on the sandy 
 beach below, dispersed the slight constraint and restored 
 the old frank freedom. They sat down to rest on the up- 
 turned old punt, now hopelessly leaky, in which Ernest had 
 often rowed Lilias and Rachel in summer evenings when 
 the lake lay calm as a sea of glass, and the placid water 
 over which they floated seemed, in its rich sunset tints, a 
 liquid commingling of amethyst and ruby, garnet and 
 topaz. Now it was a deep intense blue, crested with tiny 
 snow-wreaths, and they sat watching the pure limpid 
 green of the waves that curled at their feet, reflecting their 
 snowy crests in their glassy bosoms ere they fell in a con- 
 fused mass, to be succeeded by another and another ; — 
 emblems, as Ernest was wont to say, of the ever restless 
 tide of life. 
 
less 
 
 An At^EkNooit liibt. f^ 
 
 As they sat they talked of old times with the half-re- 
 gretful pleasure that is, somehow, slightly mingled with 
 sadness, even wl.lie the "old days" are not so very old, 
 and do not as yet seem cut off from the present by any 
 impassable gulf. 
 
 " And do you remember, Miss Lilias," said Rachel, in 
 the midst of their reminiscences, " the day when we tipped 
 over the boat and fell in, and how Ernest pulled us out ? 
 And I was so angry because he cared so much the most 
 about your getting wet, and was so afraid you would take 
 cold, not seeming to care whether I did ; and I went off 
 crying, and told mother ?" 
 
 " You were a silly child," said Ernest, laughifig, but 
 his eyes had met those of Lilias in an involuntary, half- 
 conscious glance. She did not know what there was in 
 the look to call forth the quick blush that, to her annoy- 
 ance, rose to her cheek, and Ernest stooped to pick up a 
 pebble to hide his own heightened colour. He changed 
 the subject by asking — 
 
 " Have you read * Marion* yet, Miss Lilias ?" 
 
 " Yes, a good deal, and I can't tell you how splendid I 
 think it is I Poor Constance Beverly ! How could women 
 be so cruel as those old abbesses ? And Marion— 1 
 hope he suffered for deserting her so ; though I'm sure he 
 didn't think he was leaving her to die. Captain Percival 
 says there's a later poem by the same author, which some 
 people think even finer. He has it in *!s baggage, and is 
 
90 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 going to send it to me ; and when I get it you shall read 
 it too." 
 
 £mest's expression clouded over somewhat. This 
 trilling circumstance seemed to bring back his misgivings 
 in full force ; but he said nothing, and they strolled back 
 to the farmyard, Rachel being eager to show Miss Lilias 
 her young broods of chickens, goslings and turkeys, before 
 she was called to partake of the hospitable repast that Mrs. 
 Thurstane was preparing. 
 
 The Major was inspecting the farmyard and fields 
 with his friend Jacob, and Captain Percival, who was fol- 
 lowing them about, looked so uninterested in their pro- 
 ceedings that, as "the boys" were out of the way, Ernest 
 sacrificed his own inclination to courtesy, and joining Cap- 
 tain Percival, invited him to come and see a span of 
 horses, raised on the farm, of which the farmer was very 
 proud. Being thus thrown upon each other for a time, 
 the two young men were compelled to talk ; and Percival 
 found, to his surprise, that Ernest, whom he bad looked 
 upon somewhat contemptuously as a "homebred Cana- 
 dian," could talk well, not only about horses, but about 
 other things too. 
 
 Lilias, meantime, managed to draw Rachel out about 
 her new admirer, which was not difficult, as the girl was 
 evidently glad to talk about him with a half shy pleasure 
 which, of itself, indicated danger. Lilias fully redeemed 
 her promise to Ernest, in warning Rachel, as gently, but 
 
aaa 
 
 AN AFTERNOON RIDE. 
 
 91 
 
 as earnestly as she could, not to attach any importance to 
 such admiration as he might profess, as it was not likely 
 to mean anything but a careless flirtation, such as young 
 oflicers were only too apt to vary their idleness with. 
 Rachel bore her moralising strain with a little visible 
 impatience, and rather coquettishly declared that she 
 couldn't help his coming and talking to her. 
 
 "Then never let him talk to you except when your 
 mother is by. Rachel dear." 
 
 Rachel blushed. She knew that the lieutenant had 
 always managed to see her apart from her mother, and 
 that her good mother knew nothing of the extent to which 
 he had carried his flirtation already. 
 
 " I know your mother would be vexed at your having 
 anything to do with such a young man as that is, and so 
 would your cousin" — continued Lilias, bringing out almost 
 unconsciously the thought that was still uppermost in 
 her own mind. 
 
 " Ernest ! Well, Ae hasn't anything to do with it at any 
 rate, if he did lecture me about it. I'm sure its no affair 
 of his who I like, or who likes me," said Rachel, with a 
 little saucy pettishness, like a spoilt child. 
 
 The girl's tone and words communicated a certain 
 sense of relief to Lilias' mind, not very intelligible to her- 
 self ; but she continued, from a sense of duty, to repeat 
 such words of warning as she thought most to the purpose. 
 Rachel — whose impatience manifested itself no further 
 
$1 ^Ok klNG AND COUNTRY. 
 
 than by twistmg at the folds of the blue homespun dress, 
 bare of ornament, which yet seemed to set off her bright 
 piquant face as daintily as Lilias* riding habit did her more 
 spirituelle loveliness — was not sorry when the tete-a-tete 
 was terminated by the approach of Mrs. Thurstane, 
 dressed in her Sunday grey gown and spotless white-frilled 
 cap, coming to ask Lilias, in her sweet quiet tones, to come 
 in and partake of the repast she had prepared for her 
 visitors. 
 
 It was spread in the family living-room, the only sittin ;- 
 room, in which the dresser, with its rows of dishes, and 
 the spinning-wheel set back near the door, did not, some- 
 how, look out of keeping with the book-shelves and flute, 
 and cushioned armchair on the other side ; such was the 
 air of harmony which Mrs. Thurstane's neatness, and 
 tasteful — not prim — orderliness gave to all her household 
 arrangements. The spotless white floor was spread with 
 several rag mats of bright colours, woven by the busy fin- 
 gers of the mother and daughter, and two or three rude 
 prints of sacred subjects decorated the walls, while an im- 
 mense bunch of lilacs and May-blossoms, in a brown 
 earthenware dish, made the whole apartment sweet with 
 vernal fragrance. 
 
 The farmer, and his wife and daughter, sat respectfully 
 by, not sharing the bountiful repast provided for their 
 guests, which included, over and above the " curds and 
 cream" requested by the Major, such other dainties as 
 
AN AFTERNOON RIDE. 
 
 91 
 
 chicken salad, custard, "Johnny cake," &c., which Mrs. 
 Thurstane was noted for her skill in preparing. Major 
 Meredith, as usual, talked jocularly to Mrs. Thurstane as 
 she waited upon them, pressing them to take everything 
 set before them ; and she responded with the usual gentle 
 smile, except when he touched upon the war. Then the 
 smile vanished, and a painfully anxious expression clouded 
 her usually clear brow. The mother of three sons, stal- 
 wart, vigorous young men, all " training" in the volunteer 
 militia, had too much at stake in any possible outbreak of 
 hostilities, — to say nothing of an intense aversion to war, 
 instilled by her Quaker training — to permit any response 
 to playfulness in approaching that subject, and the Major, 
 quietly taking the cue, with true gentlemanly feeling drop- 
 ped it at once. 
 
 Ernest had disappeared, and did not reappear till the 
 party were taking their departure. Then, however, he 
 turned up, ready to assist Lilias to mount, by his prompt- 
 ness forestalling Captain Percival in the attention. 
 
 " Woji't you come back with us, and spend the rest of 
 the evening .'*" Lilias asked as she gathered up her reins. 
 " You can get a horse in a minute and overtake us." 
 
 " No, thank you, I think I had better not," replied 
 Ernest, half reluctant to decline. 
 
 " Oh, do ! We have seen so little of you this time ; 
 and I suppose you will return to Newark on Monday. I 
 should think you would like to talk to Captain Percivali 
 
9i 
 
 VOk KmC AND COtJNTkY. 
 
 " No, thank you, that is no inducement," he said, with 
 a half smile. " I really wwj/ not." 
 
 Lilias felt a little vexed at his refusal. He had always 
 gladly accepted such invitations. Without stopping to 
 think, she said, half playfully, half in earnest — 
 
 " I suppose you want to mount guard over Rachel. 
 Are you afraid Lieutenant Payne is lurking about ?" 
 
 Ernest looked up at her in silent surprise. The sub- 
 ject of Rachel was so remote from his mind at that mo- 
 ment, and anything like banter of this kind was so unlike 
 Lilias' simple, straightforward frankness, that he had for 
 the moment no reply to make. But Lilias had repented 
 of her unconsidered words the moment they were uttered, 
 and Ernest's surprised look seemed to her a mute reproach, 
 which sent a warm flush over cheek and brow. Ernest 
 averted his glance the moment he saw her embarrassment 
 and then said, quietly — 
 
 " I should have thought you would have known that I 
 would be only too glad to go to the Elms at any time ! 
 But I don't feel as if I could, just nov/. Your new friend," 
 he continued, in a low tone, "evidently disapproves of me, 
 and I don't care to subject myself to his criticism. I can 
 see that he thinks me very presumptuous in talking to you 
 now." 
 
 " What nonsense ! that must be a mere fancy of yours. 
 He is cold in his manner at first — most Englishmen are, I 
 think ; but when you know him better, I think he is 
 very agreeable !" 
 
A^ AFTfiRNOON Rtt)E. 
 
 M 
 
 lours. 
 ^re, I 
 le is 
 
 
 Ernest was silent. If Lilias liked the stranger, he 
 would not commit himself to any unfavorable opinion 
 of him. But he checked his first impulse to say good-bye 
 at the door, and walked by her pony's side down the lane 
 that led to the road. Captain Percival riding on u\ front 
 with Major Meredith when he saw the young lady thus 
 accompanied. He was not himself conscious of any 
 special interest in Lilias, or of any particular wish to mon- 
 opolise her society. But her evident intimacy with Ernest 
 annoyed him, grating upon his fastidious ideas of the fit- 
 ness of things, and he could not resist saying to the Major 
 with a slightly significant air, which, however, was quite 
 lost on his companion — 
 
 " That young man seems to be a gieat friend of your 
 daughter's." 
 
 " Oh, yes,'' he replied, with his usual good humour, 
 " Lilias thinks a great deal of him ; and he deserves it, for 
 he's a fine lad — a diligent, steady lad, — and he has made 
 good use of his opportunities." 
 
 Percival let the subject drop, seeing that the Major 
 was quite obtuse to any possibilities that might arise from 
 the intimacy. The truth was that, owing to early habits 
 and training, the invisible social dividing lines were so 
 clearly fixed in his own mind, that he expected them to be 
 as distinct and rigid to every one else ; and he would as 
 soon have expected to see the stars straying out of their 
 courses as to find an attachment springing up between his 
 daughter and Ernest Heathcote. 
 
96 
 
 FOR KINO AND COUNTRY. 
 
 When Lilias, having said good-bye to Ernest, cantered 
 up to her companions, Captain Percivai at once started an 
 animated conversation, keeping up a sort of bantering 
 warfare on subjects on which they disagreed, in the 
 course of it he ventured on one or two remarks about Er- 
 nest, with just a soupcon of ridicule about them, which 
 Lilias was quick to perceive, and he was surprised at the 
 simple dignity of manner with which, though with a slightly 
 flushed cheek, she put down such attempts at once. He 
 did not repeat the experiment, seeing that she was too 
 staunch to her friend to permit any disparagement of him, 
 and having too much gentlemanlike instinct to persist in 
 what evidently annoyed her. Lilias' inward thought was 
 —"Ernest was right ; I am glad, after all, he did not 
 come !" 
 
 The next day being Sunday, the people of the little 
 hamlet, and of the neighbourhood for some miles round, 
 collected in the little grey church. Clergymen were then 
 so few and far between that it was but seldom what was 
 then considered the luxury of a sermon came in their way, 
 but the Major always had the Church of England service 
 read by a devout old man, with white flowing hair, who 
 had long officiated as a clerk '* at home," the Major him- 
 self leading the responses. The people around, of what- 
 ever rehgious name — staunch Puritans, like the Thurs- 
 tanes, — Presbyterians, like Davie Watson, — Methodists, 
 like aunt Judy,— gladly came together, and heartily joined 
 
An afternoon ride. 
 
 91 
 
 in the solemn service, which was their only opportunity 
 for social worship. And perhaps, on that sweet June Sab- 
 bath, with the fragrant breeze carrying in through the small 
 window the scent of the waving pines without ; with the 
 songs of the birds, the hum of insects, and the rustling of 
 leaves taking the place of an organ " voluntary ;" and all 
 nature breathing of peace and tranquillity, the hearts and 
 lips of the worshippers joined with intenser fervour than 
 usual in the words :— 
 
 " Give peace in our time, O Lord." 
 
 ** Because there is none other that fightcth for us, but only Thou, O God." 
 
 Words which repeated themselves in many a heart in the 
 anxious times that followed, leading them to look up above 
 the darkening horizon to the ever-present, Invisible Helper 
 — for sorely needed strength, comfort and hope. 
 
 After the service Ernest came up to Lilias, linger- 
 ing a little in the peaceful churchyard, to say good-bye, 
 as he was obliged to return to his duties at Newark next 
 morning. Lilias did not press him, this time, to come to 
 The Elms. 
 
 "And when will you be here again ?" she asked. It 
 seemed harder to say good-bye, this time, than usual. 
 
 " That must depend on a good many things," he said. 
 " And there is no knowing what may happen before I see 
 you again." 
 
 They looked at each other gravely. There is not much 
 to be said when the heart is full of vague oppressive fears 
 
 7 
 
98 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 that will not be put into words. But theiv eyes said more 
 than they knew. For a moment Ernest was tempted to 
 yield to his inward prompting to say something that wojild 
 show Lilias his heart. But the sight of Major Meredith's 
 grey head in the distance, the remembrance of his past 
 kindness, of the breach of trust which he would consider 
 such an attempt to be, checked him in time. He could 
 not help, however, the long pressure of Lilias' little gloved 
 hand, the long wistful look as he turned away, which 
 haunted her for many days after. And, somehow, as she 
 slowly turned her steps homeward by the private path, the 
 vague weight at her heart grew heavier and heavier, till, 
 by the time she reached her own apartment, she was 
 fain to find relief in a burst of tears, the traces of which 
 she had some trouble in removing before going down to 
 meet her father and Captain Percival at dinner. 
 
 That night Lilias found it hard to go to sleep. Ernest's 
 look had let into her mind a light which she would 
 not have allowed herself to put into words, but which very 
 much increased the vague anxiety and restlessness that 
 had begun to oppress her. And as she watched, with 
 eyes which would not grow sleepy, the late waning moon 
 silver the lake with a sorrowful sort of radiance, she felt 
 overcome by the sadness which besets us when any pleas- 
 ant, tranquil chapter of our past life seems closed for 
 ever. 
 
MARJORIK. 
 
 99 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 MARJORIE. 
 
 " A chieftain's daughter seemed the maid,^ 
 
 Her satin snood, her silken plaid, 
 
 Her golden brooch, such birth betrayed." 
 
 AWEFJK or two of the pleasant June we.ither had 
 glided by. The lilac blossoms had nearly all fallen 
 off now, and those which remained were faded and with- 
 ering. The spring flowers were over, and the June roses 
 were beginning to open their deep-tinted petals. The apple- 
 blossoms had long ago disappeared, and the young green 
 apples were already formed in their place. The little, 
 blue, spotted eggs in the nests that lay snugly ensconced 
 in the spruces at the Elms — whose young cones were now 
 making them so bright a green — had been chipped by tiny 
 beaks, and the nests held a callow, confused mass, from 
 which gaped wide little mouths as the parent-birds came 
 chirping home. The butterflies were beginning to dart in 
 and out among the leaves, the tiny humming-birds were 
 hanging from the opening honeysuckles, busily drawing 
 forth their sweet, hidden treasure, and the air was full of 
 the hum and stir and life of the rapidly maturing summer. 
 Lilias has finished her morning round of active duties, 
 
loo 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 : 
 
 which, this morning, has included bread-making, — for it 
 is washing-day and the other hands are full, — and has 
 taken out her needlework to the grassy, shaded grounds 
 in front of the house ; for on such summer days the rooms 
 within, with their small windows and spare dark furnish- 
 ings, look gloomy and uninviting, compared with the glory 
 and the beauty of out-door sunshine and quivering green 
 shadow. So Lilias sits at her work of mending household 
 Unen, with the graceful waving boughs of a large hickory 
 lying like a green cloud between her and the blue sky, and 
 the flitting shadows of the leaves glimmering over the 
 grass at her feet, and the soft warm air, full of summer 
 scents, disarranging her soft brown locks ; while she now 
 and then exchanges a pleasant word or two with old 
 Nannie, who is " putting out" some of her young mistress' 
 muslins and laces to bleach, where they are not so likely 
 to be interfered with by the profane feet of chickens or 
 geese as in the ordinary bleaching-ground. 
 
 Lilias is scarcely looking as bright and tranquilly happy 
 as is her wont, and her usually serene brow is slightly 
 clouded. Indeed she has been feeling, during the last two 
 or three days, while her father has been absent at Newark, 
 more lonely than she remembers ever to have felt in her 
 life before. For one thing. Captain Percival's departure, 
 after his stay of about a week, left a perceptible blank. For 
 he had shaken off his ordinary carelessness of manner, and 
 had really exerted himself to make his visit agreeable to 
 
MARJORIE. 
 
 lOI 
 
 ;, — for it 
 and has 
 grounds 
 le rooms 
 furnish- 
 he glory 
 ig green 
 )usehold 
 
 hickory 
 sky, and 
 3ver the 
 summer 
 she now 
 nth old 
 nistress' 
 ;o likely 
 
 kens or 
 
 y happy 
 slightly 
 ast two 
 ewark, 
 in her 
 larture, 
 ik. For 
 er, and 
 able to 
 
 his kind entertainers, a thing he was quite able to do if 
 he pleased. He rode and walked, and chatted with Lilias, 
 who could not help finding in him a very pleasant com- 
 panion : a companion, too, who knew much about many 
 things of which she was so ignorant ; who could tell her 
 much that she wanted to know, and behind all whose 
 pleasant flow of talk and anecdote there seemed to lie, 
 like a misty, sun-lit atmosphere, the "home" life and 
 *' home " scenes that had haunted her imagination from her 
 childhood. He was an accomplished rider, and, mounting 
 her upon his own steed, as soon as Hector had recovered 
 from his lameness, he gave her lessons in the art of leap- 
 ing, which she had as yet scarcely tried ; — Lilias finding 
 the beautiful, perfectly-trained animal the very ideal of a 
 spirited, yet docile steed, and being obliged to confess his 
 great superiority, even as a lady's horse, to her own pet 
 Canadian pony. In short, Captain Percival and she had 
 become very good friends — the more so that Lilias, pre- 
 occupied with the idea that there was " something be- 
 tween" him and her English cousin, and not knowing that 
 it was unusual with him to be so genial, never thought of 
 recognizing, — in looks and tones that might have suggested 
 the idea to a less simple-minded girl, — any special admira- 
 tion of herself. She was quite unconscious that his eye 
 sought hers more and more frequently, and she always 
 met his glance with a frank friendliness that knew no 
 cause for avoiding it. 
 
ri 
 
 |i 
 
 loa 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 But amidstall Percival's pleasant attentions, the thought 
 of Ernest was never long absent from her mind ; his ear- 
 nest, wistful look at parting was continually haunting her. 
 Unconsciously, almost, to herself, their last two interviews 
 had, without visible cause, given a different character to her 
 feeling for him — a certain feeling of property in him which 
 she would have shrunk from putting into words ; and of 
 responsibility and care for his well-being which she had 
 never known before. She never once thought of compar- 
 ing him disadvantageously with Percival, when the latter 
 was at his pleasantest. If ^^ had more of the outward 
 polish of a man of the world, Ernest's straightforward, 
 unaffected simplicity seemed to bring his real inner being 
 far nearer to her. There was a depth and strength of 
 sympathy between him and herself which she never could 
 feel with a man like Percival, who, with all his accomplish- 
 ments and arts of pleasing, never seemed to have thought 
 deeply about anything, or to have realised with any vivid- 
 ness the great spiritual realities that lie below the surface- 
 phantasmagoria of outward life, — to whom the prizes of 
 the visible world seemed everything, — whose judgment 
 and thoughts were bounded on all sides by the con- 
 ventionalities of " society." Indeed his code of conven- 
 tional rules often chafed and annoyed her, contrasting so 
 strongly with the free simplicity of her secluded forest 
 home, and of a life untouched by the worldly influences 
 which then swayed so tyrannically English social ideas 
 and habits. 
 
MARJORIE. 
 
 10^ 
 
 And now that his departure had left her time and 
 thoughts more free from distraction, he would probably 
 have been little flattered could he have known how slightly 
 his image retained its place in her thoughts, and how 
 completely his somewhat despised rival engrossed them. 
 Lilias' mind, indeed, was too full of Ernest and his well- 
 being for its own peace. Day by day, and hour by hour, 
 instead of simply enjoying, as she had formerly done, the 
 changing pleasantness of her daily life — the mere joy of 
 existence in a world so beautiful — she was inwardly fol- 
 lowing Ernest with a restless anxiety, wondering whether 
 he was well ; whether he was happier, or at least more free 
 from the depression which, she had seen, was weighing 
 upon him. She thought, now, of many things that she 
 would have liked to say to him , and she had no means of 
 saying them, for they had never corresponded, and she 
 could not, of course, write to him, unless some real neces- 
 sity should arise. She tried to do as Aunt Judy had 
 taught her — to carry all her anxiety to the feet of the all- 
 loving Father, who is so much nearer and closer to all 
 His children than any of them are to eacti other. But 
 though this soothed and calmed her for the time, it could 
 not quite dispel the vague weight of care that rested heavily 
 on her heart, and found expression in the frequent, unac- 
 customed sigh. The general feeling of anxiety about 
 public matters, too, — like "thunder in the air" — her father's 
 absence, and the scarcity of any authentic news, added to 
 the burden of uneasiness and suspense. 
 
P! 
 
 ■ 
 
 104 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 " What is the matter, Bruno ?" she said, as the faithful 
 old dog, who had been lying near her feet, half asleep, 
 but occasionally watching her with one half-open eye, 
 now shook himself, gave a few preliminary growls, and 
 then barked vociferously, — an unmistakable intimation 
 that some one was approaching. 
 
 " Who is it, Bruno ? " she said, wonderikigly, knowing 
 that her father could not be home before the evening. 
 
 Old Nannie set down the bowl with which she was 
 sprinkling the delicate fabrics on the grass, and, shading 
 her eyes, looked out towards the road, then came up to 
 her young mistress. 
 
 " It's just black Caesar, the Colonel's man, ridin' along, 
 tired-like, poor fellow ! I'll warrant he'll hae some word 
 till ye frae Miss Marjorie. She'll be wantin' ye up there," 
 said Nannie, the wish being " father to the thought." She 
 had been wishing for something to enliven her young mis- 
 tress, whose unusual depression her sharp eyes had quickly 
 noticed. And then, more eager to know tV e object of his 
 errand than was Lilias herself, she hurried away on her 
 old feet to the gate, where Sambo, who had always a keen 
 instinct for the arrival of visitors, had already waylaid his 
 black brother, and engaged him in a brisk conversaiion 
 not likely soon to come to an end. 
 
 Nannie pounced upon the letter which the man had 
 brought for Miss Meredith, and leaving the two " hoodie- 
 craws," as she called them, to saunter up to the stables, 
 
MARJORIE. . 195 
 
 finishing their talk at their leisure, she carried the epistU 
 in triumph to Lilias. It was an elaborately-folded and 
 heavily-sealed packet, such as letters used to be in days 
 when envelopes were unknown, and when the large, folded 
 sheets, too, used to contain a good deal more substantial 
 reading than modern epistles do in these degenerate days 
 of adhesive envelopes, postal cards and perpetually arriv- 
 ing mails. Lihas took it eagerly, for Marjorie was her 
 especial and devoted friend, and Marjorie's letters were 
 always worth reading — taking them even on their intrinsic 
 merits. She smiled as she glanced at the opening lines, so 
 characteristic of her friend's passion for the poems of 
 Ossian, which, at that time, were still attracting much at- 
 tention, and exercised a powerful influence over a certain 
 class of imaginative minds. They ran thus : — 
 
 " Dearest Lilias. — White-armed daughter of the 
 Lake ! Bright as the moon in autumn, as the sun in a 
 summer storm, come thou, O maid, over rocks (over cor- 
 duroy-bridges) to me. Alone I am, O Lilias — alone among 
 the pines ! Come and talk with me, Lilias ! come on the 
 light-winged gale ! on the breeze of the desert, come ! — 
 Let me hear thy voice as thou passest, when mid-day is 
 silent around!" 
 
 The letter then descended into a more ordinary strain, 
 recounting how lonely the writer was feeling without her 
 friend, and how rnany excellent reasons there \yere why 
 th^^ friend should come to her at once, on which accou^i^ 
 
 i! 
 
!^ 
 
 • 
 
 ■: 
 
 till 
 
 to^ 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 she had seized the opportunity of Caesar's being despatched 
 to that part of the country on business, and had sent him 
 six or seven miles out of the way in order to carry her 
 missive. She mentioned Captain Percival also, who had 
 called, bringing a note of introduction from Major Mere- 
 dith. Her father, she added, was delighted with his mili- 
 itary enthusiasm, and said that he was considered quite an 
 acquisition by General Brock, who had come over to Fort 
 George, — called thither, it was said, by warlike rumours, 
 and who was likely to attach Bercival to his staff. 
 
 " We have arranged an expedition to show him the 
 Falls next week," the letter went on to say, " and several 
 of the officers — my hero included — are to dine with us after- 
 wards ; and, of course, I want you for both occasions ; 
 so get Major Meredith to bring you over as soon as possi- 
 ble — to stay as long as possible." 
 
 The epistle closed with another pathetic adjuration to 
 the " white-armed maid — lonely sunbeam of my love," to 
 hasten to delight the heart of " her devoted Marjorie." 
 
 Nannie was, of course, speedily made acquainted with 
 the purport of the letter, and heartily endorsed the exhorta- 
 tion. " For," she said, " there's naething ava' to keep ye, 
 an' its but dowie for a young lassie to be here so much yer 
 lane wi' naebody but an auld wifie like me, when the Major 
 is awa' ! Sae I'll just mak' haste and get up yer mull mus- 
 lin there, an' the laces, an' ye'll tak' yer bonnie new perlins 
 frae hame to wear at the dinner ; for if the General him- 
 sel's to be there, ye'll need to be braw ! " 
 
-> 
 » 
 
 MARJORIE. t07 
 
 Lilias was herself in no wise disinclined for the pro- 
 position, for it was no small pleasure, in itself, to visit 
 Marjorie in her beautiful home on the banks of the Niagara 
 river, not far from Queenston heights ; and it would be a 
 great relief to unburden to her friend some of the thoughts 
 which, through their very repression, pressed so heavily 
 jpon her heart. Then, when she was, comparatively 
 speaking, so near Newark, she might sometimes hear of 
 Ernest, — might even see him, for he had been occasionally 
 invited to meet her on former visits at Dunlathmon, as 
 Colonel McLeod's residence had been Ossianically called. 
 Major Meredith returned towards evening, bearing to Lilias 
 polite messages from Captain Percival, who was finding 
 great favour at Fort George, and a packet containing the 
 promised poem of Scott's, with another small volume, both 
 of which he begged that she would do him the favour to 
 accept, and then Marjorie's invitation was communicated 
 and discussed. The Major readily acceded, always glad 
 of anything that promised to give his darling pleasure in 
 what he felt to be her somewhat lonely life ; and he 
 promised to remain himself to take part in the expedition 
 to the Falls, which greatly enhanced Lilias' pleasure in the 
 anticipation of the little excursion. 
 
 Caesar, who had been kept all day to rest, was accord- 
 ingly made the bearer of an affirmative reply, and Nannie 
 went on vigorously with her clear-starching operations, 
 while Major Meredith put his farming affairs in train for 
 
 t 
 P 
 
 
i ! 
 
 io3 
 
 FOR KINO AND COUNTRY. 
 
 another absence of a few days. When he found himself 
 able to start, Lilias' small trunk — not a " Saratoga" — was 
 consigned to John Wardle's care to be taken in the stage 
 to Newark, whence it would be sent for ; — while Lilias and 
 her father took a bridle-path through the woods on horse- 
 back, — a more direct route to Dunlathmon, — thus saving 
 a detour of several miles, and securing a much pleasanter 
 journey than by the jolting waggon on the regular road. 
 
 They started early in the morning, just as the rising 
 sun was dispersing the delicate opalescent hues of the 
 dawn, and before the early chorus of the birds was over. 
 It was a long journey for an equestrian one, but Lilias was 
 agood horsewoman, and ladies were used to long equestrian 
 journeys in those days, when there was hardly any other 
 mode of conveyance. The sweet balmy freshness of the 
 woods in the early morning was, of itself, a delight, which 
 the horses as well as the riders seemed to feel, and they 
 rode on as briskly as the nature of the path would allow. 
 As the day grew warmer, they did not need to dread the 
 burning rays of the sun, so impervious a screen was the 
 wilderness of green leaves and interlacing boughs above 
 their heads. Sometimes, indeed, they went, for shortness, 
 by what was called a " blazed path," marked out merely 
 by the trees being " blazed" or chipped by the axe ; and 
 there the wilderness sometimes became such a tangle of 
 underbrush and fallen logs, that it presented no slight ob- 
 9ts(cle to their progress. Where now wave golden wheat- 
 
MARJORIE. *d5 
 
 fields and rich fruit orchards, bending peach-trees and 
 trellised vines, there then stood almost a jungle of hemlock, 
 oak, maple and beech, crowded and massed in an inextri- 
 cable maze of tall lanky trees and thickly growing saplings, 
 waving above an undergrowth of brush and ferns and 
 lichens, clustering over the dank soil. Here and there 
 they came to a " clearing," with its " shanty," in one of 
 which they readily procured an extemporised luncheon of 
 bread and milk. Late in the afternoon they came out on 
 something more resembling a road, which was, however, 
 only a cart-path over the rough uneven ground, left just as 
 it had been " cleared." One side of this " road" was 
 bounded by the usual "snake-fence," enclosing appropriated 
 and sometimes cultivated land, while the other was, in most 
 places, skirted by the wilderness itself in all its tangled 
 density, fringed by fallen logs and tree-roots, each covered 
 with a second vegetation of moss and fern. 
 
 By the time they reached Dunlathmon, the travellers 
 were tired enough to see with pleasure the wide gate, rude 
 enough, as most gates were in those times, that opened 
 into Colonel McLeod's demesne. As they rode up the long 
 winding avenue, among the tall pines that surrounded the 
 house on all sides, and through which the setting sun was 
 darting long feathery lines of gold, the glimmer of a white 
 dress was discernible among the dark sweeping boughs, 
 and in a minute or two a tall girl, with flowing raven curls 
 and dark animated eyes, came, flushed with running, to 
 
rii 
 
 * /I 
 
 
 'I 
 
 II 
 
 ir 
 
 ^ 1 11 ■ -9'^ 
 
 ts 
 
 no 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 give her friend a warm, demonstrative greeting. In her 
 hand she carried a small book, handsomely bound for 
 those days, in dark brown leather and gold, at which 
 Major Meredith glanced with a goo(J-humoured smile, 
 after the first salutations, and said, banteringly : 
 
 " Ossian as usual, Marjorie ?" 
 
 " Of course," said Marjorie, returning the smile in kind. 
 " And why should it not be ? Do you know, Lilias, 
 Captain Percival tells me that IJonapartc's favorite read- 
 ing is Ossian, translated into Italian. So you see I have 
 an illustrious example. Major Meredith!" 
 
 " Illustrious scoundrel ! — begging your pardon, Mar- 
 jorie," — grumbled the Major, who never could see anything 
 good or great in England's foes, even in regard to better 
 men than Napoleon. " But there is my little kitten, Flo ! " 
 and he bent down from his saddle to give an affectionate 
 salutation to a girl much younger, smaller and more deli- 
 cately formed than Marjorie, who came bounding from 
 the house, attended by an equally frolicsome spaniel. 
 
 The house — rather larger than The Elms — had two 
 fronts, one with a pillared piazza towards the river, looking 
 down upon its green stream sweeping on between precipi- 
 tous banks ; the other towards the avenue, having a wide 
 portico, on which were sitting Colonel McLeod and his wife. 
 The former, a tall, stately, chieftain-looking man, rose on 
 the approach of his guests, and came forward to meet 
 them with the dignified Highland courtesy which was one 
 
MARJORIE. 
 
 Ill 
 
 of his prominent characteristics, Mrs. McLeod, a dark, 
 languid-looking West Indian, whom the Colonel had fallen 
 in love with and married when stationed at Harbadoes on 
 military duty, sat still till her husband had led Lilias up 
 the steps — making politely minute enquiries after her 
 health and welfare. Then she came forward slowly and 
 gracefully, to kiss her young guest's forehead, and to tell 
 her how " charmed she was to see her sweet face again." 
 Marjorie speedily carried off her friend to her own 
 room, that she might refresh herself and change her dress 
 before coming down to the hospitable and substantial tea 
 awaiting the hungry travellers. While she did so, Marjorie 
 began at once to pour out all the flow of questions and 
 answers which had been awaiting the arrival of her favour- 
 ite companion ; although it was only a few weeks since 
 they had been together in York, whither Marjorie had 
 accompanied her father to the sittings of the Legislative 
 Assembly, of which he was a member. Their talk was 
 interrupted only by a repeated and urgent summons to tea, 
 where Marjorie's tall brothers, just returned from training- 
 drill, and having taken especial care to make themselves 
 presentable for the occasion, were waiting to greet Lilias, 
 of whom one of them, at least, was a devoted admirer. 
 And when the merry tea-table talk was over, the young 
 people gathered upon the wide piazza, where the conver- 
 sation soon drifted to the graver things — then not far from 
 any one's mind — or ceased, hushed to thoughtful silence, 
 
 11 
 
 
1' 
 
 ■l ' ' 
 
 
 Hi 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 while they listened to the incessant rush of the stream far 
 below the dusky trees, and watched the fire-flies, which, like 
 irregular flitting stars, were glancing in and out among the 
 long dark pine and hemlock boughs. 
 
 It need' hardly be added that, notwithstanding Lilias' 
 long ride and the fatigue which she had a right to feel, 
 Marjorie and she found subjects to talk about till the night 
 was far advanced, and the rest of the household had been 
 long since hushed in sleep. The two girls were sufficiently 
 unlike in character, and sufficiently like in their tastes and 
 sympathies, to be very congenial companions. Their dif- 
 fering qualities of mind and disposition were, indeed, in 
 many respects, complementary of each other. The some- 
 what reserved character of Lilias, — shrinking from ex- 
 pressing feeling freely, notwithstanding her frankness in 
 matters of opinion^ — felt the happy influence of Marjorie's 
 warm-hearted impulsiveness, and the Celtic enthusiasm 
 that flowed out unchecked by the most unfavourable cir- 
 cumstances. On the other hand, Lilias' more thoughtful 
 and reflective mind was a salutary counterpoise to Mar- 
 jorie's somewhat too great preponderance of imagination 
 and romance. Both had been developed largely by the 
 circumstances of her early life, as well as inherited with her 
 Highland blood. Her mother, neither strong nor active, 
 would have hardly weathered the roughness of a settler's 
 life at all, but for her faithful negro maid, Dinah, the 
 mother of Caesar, who, once a slave, had accompanied her 
 
MARJORIE. 
 
 Its 
 
 young mistress to her Canadian home, and had taken upon 
 herself, as a matter of course, all the toil and drudgery of 
 the new forest life. Notwithstanding this, however, Mrs. 
 McLeod always felt herself over-burdened with her house- 
 hold cares and her growing family ; and Marjorie had 
 been left to roam about at will, and pick up such know- 
 ledge as she could from reading whatever came in her way. 
 A year at school with Lilias in Montreal had been the 
 only attempt at systematic education — with one excep- 
 tion. Mrs. McLcod had a naturally fine musical taste, and 
 had been, for the time and circumstances in which she 
 lived, a pretty good musician ; and as Marjorie had a fine, 
 rich contralto voice, her mother had taken both pride and 
 pleasure in training it, so that she could sing the spirited 
 old Highland songs and plaintive coronachs in which her 
 father delighted, in a style which he, in his inmost 
 heart, thought almost unequalled. The great secret of her 
 power in singing these lay, however, not so much in mere 
 musical proficiency as in the intense enthusiasm with 
 which she threw herself into the spirit of what she sang. 
 For Marjorie, though she had never been out of Canada 
 in her life, was as intensely Highland in her feelings and 
 sympathies as any chieftain's daughter that ever stepped 
 upon heather. Her long Highland genealogy, her father's 
 pride in the traditions of his family, which had suffered 
 considerably from its devotion to the Jacobite cause, and 
 
 his frequent and fond reminiscences of his boyhood's 
 
 8 
 

 'i\'. 
 
 I t \ 
 
 iU 
 
 it! 
 
 "4 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 home, — an old castle on the misty shores of an Argyleshire 
 loch, — had naturally tended to imbue her strongly with 
 this feeling. But to the influence of her favourite Ossian, 
 also, no small portion of it was due. Those were days in 
 which the imagination was not supplied with food so lib- 
 erally as it is now. Tl ^n, the whole mass of modern fic- 
 tion, good and bad, which began with Scott, was as yet 
 only entering into existence. Tennyson, the Brownings, 
 and all their contemporaries, — even Mrs. Hemans and 
 L. E. L., vrere, so far as their poetic fame was concerned, 
 still in the future. And of the poets then beginning to 
 form so bright a constellation, little more than the names 
 had as yet reached Canada, where the facilities for the 
 diffusion of literature, small even in Britain in comparison 
 with what they are now, had only a very rudimentary ex- 
 istence. Cowper and Pope were almost the only recent 
 English poets that had come in Marjorie's way, and they 
 were, on the whole, too tame for her ; though Lilias and she 
 had spent some pleasant summer days over the Iliad and 
 the Odyssey. Shakespeare, indeed, who in a bulky volume 
 occupied a conspicuous place in her father's small collec- 
 tion of books, afforded a rich pasture for an imaginative 
 mind, and she delighted especially in ** Hamlet," " The 
 Tempest," "Julius Caesar" and the "Midsummer Night's 
 Dream." But the great dramatist was not at all times in- 
 tense enough for Marjorie. His many-sidedness, his wide 
 range of character, his profound philosophy and deep 
 
MARJORIE. 
 
 "5 
 
 insight into human motive and passion, she could hardly 
 as yet appreciate, and his broad, sometimes coarse humour, 
 often repelled her. She had studied, till she almost knew 
 them by heart, her father's collection of old Scottish 
 ballads, in which mingled — with simple but often striking 
 imagery and touches of exquisite description — the clash of 
 wild, fierce warfare, or a thread of romance, often terrible 
 with the intensity of passion characteristic of impulsive, 
 undisciplined nature and a half-savage age. 
 
 But the small dark boards of her treasured copy of 
 Ossian contained an almost inexhaustible store of delight. 
 The wild northern poems, with their primitive simpHcity 
 and sublimity, enchanted and stimulated her imagination, 
 and excited the impassioned and somewhat exaggerated 
 admiration which an enthusiastic girl will often lavish upon 
 some particular poet, who may have chanced more espe- 
 cially to captivate her fancy. Mmy a summer hour had 
 been dreamed away over these poems among the old whis- 
 pering pines, when the wind, " soughing " among their 
 dark boughs, seemed to breathe the wailing tones of the 
 ancient bard. And when the autumn gales tossed about 
 the whirling leaves, and made the pine-branches creak 
 and sway in wild commotiouj and the clouds behind them 
 took strange fantastic forms in the dusky evening light, 
 and the river rushed more fiercely below the precipitous 
 foliage-clad banks— a deeper, colder green,— Marjorie's 
 fancy would call up the shadowy forms of Malvina and 
 
ii 
 
 
 
 ii6 
 
 FOR KING Ai^b COtJNTRV. 
 
 her lost lOver, of Comala and Oltha, and all the mournful 
 heroines who weep their heroes slain in battle. To her 
 they all had the most real existence. Whoever might 
 dispute the authenticity of the poems, she believed most 
 firmly that " Fingal fought and Osslan sang ;" and they 
 opened entrancing glimpses of the old, old times of her 
 father-land — times so dim and shadowy in the far-away 
 past. They coloured her feelings, almost unconsciously 
 to herself, and influenced her reception of natural in- 
 fluences. When she visited the Falls, she used to think 
 how the soul of Ossian would have delighted in the roar 
 of many waters, in the snowy, tossing foam, in the misty, 
 shadowy spray, and in the Indian legend of the spirit of 
 the thunder crouching beneath the mist and the surging 
 waters in the awful chasm. The Indian legends, which 
 she delighted to collect when she had an opportunity, 
 seemed to come the nearest of anything which she knew 
 to the wild old songs ; even, as she fancied, the grave sad 
 Indians, with their silent, dignified ways, and their occa- 
 sional grandeur of speech — when they did speak, — must 
 resemble to some extent the warriors of Fingal and Ossian. 
 She sometimes, too, beguiled the long, quiet hours, which 
 she had no magazines and few newspapers to enl'ven, in 
 moulding her favourite Indian legends into tolerably good 
 imitations of Ossian, which, however, were sacredly kept 
 from every eye save that of Lilias. 
 
 The same influence that had developed her poetical 
 
 '- ■^lW?".1'yg!^ l Bl^w>ww^^' 
 
MARJORIB. IVJi 
 
 and romantic tendencies, had also strongly drawn out her 
 patriotic feelings. It need scarcely be said that she was, 
 like her father, a thorough Jacobite ; that she blindly 
 adored Mary Queen of Scots, and believed in the " divine 
 right" of the Pretender ; that she could sing all the old 
 Jacobite songs, and envied Flora Macdonald her task of 
 chivalrous devotion, with all her heart. She often kept up 
 warm, though always good-humoured arguments with 
 Lilias, whose mind, enlightened by the more thoughtful 
 and wider views of Ernest Heathcote, could not sym- 
 pathise with Marjorie's one-sided enthusiasm, fascinating 
 as it was to her. But Marjorie's Jacobite sympathies, 
 nevertheless, did not make her one whit the less loyal to 
 the reigning House, or less staunch in her allegiance to 
 Great Britain. And, as the " land of her sires,*' after all, — 
 dear as it was to her, — was but a distant and somewhat 
 misty idea, her patriotic feelings found a more immediate 
 and definite object in "her own, her native land," to 
 which, despite its comparative destitution of mountains 
 and of traditions, her heart clung with a passionate fervour. 
 The troublous times which had been closing around it, 
 during these last years, and the dangers which seemed to 
 threaten it, had only deepened and intensified this fervour, 
 by giving it a more definite centre ; and in her heart she 
 often wished herself a man, or, at least, another Joan of 
 Arc, that she might go forth with her brothers, donning 
 sword and rifle, to train for meeting the invader, should 
 he really come, 
 
tl8 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 This being her state of mind, it was no wonder that 
 when, in General Brock's noble character and high 
 qualities, the whole country believed that it saw its de- 
 liverer — the leader who should safely extricate it from dif- 
 ficulty and danger, — Marjorie, who could observe for 
 herself his high-mindedness, his magnanimity, his whole- 
 souled devotion to duty — all enhanced by the knightly 
 courtesy and grace of his manner, especially towards 
 women, — should elevate him at once to the first rank of 
 heroes in her Valhalla, and lavish upon him a laigo por- 
 tion of the hero-worship of which her heart was so full. 
 And, certainly, he was worthier than are most " heroes " 
 so worshipped of the perfectly pure and disinterested 
 devotion with which Marjorie regarded him. For though 
 he had become the first of men to her, she had no thought 
 of becoming anything to him. To her mind, 
 
 •• His soul was like a star and dwelt apart ;" 
 
 and any approach to the affection which desires to mono- 
 polise would have seemed the greatest presumption. She 
 was content to worship him from a reverential distance, 
 and his kindly smile and cordial words, when she hap- 
 pened to be in his society, were quite sufficient return. 
 And so it happened that, as the girls lay awake and talked, 
 Marjorie had much more to say of " her hero " than Lilias 
 had of Err.cst Heathcote, whom she did not regard at all 
 in the light of a " hero," but as a dear and trusted friend. 
 
 ^. 
 
 : 
 
GOLDEN HOURS. 
 
 119 
 
 der that 
 id high 
 ' its de- 
 rom dif- 
 ;rve for 
 5 whole- 
 knightly 
 towards 
 
 rank of 
 igc por- 
 
 so full, 
 heroes " 
 iterested 
 - though 
 thought 
 
 mono- 
 She 
 istance, 
 le hap- 
 
 return. 
 
 talked, 
 n Lilias 
 d at all 
 
 hend. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 GOLDEN HOURS. 
 
 > " Or in the all-golden afternoon, 
 
 A giiest, or happy sister sung, 
 Or here she brought her harp, and flung 
 A ballad to the brightening moon." 
 
 ALL this time, though the Canadians in general knew 
 it not, masses of American troops were concentrat- 
 ing in Michigan, preparing for the sudden onset on 
 Canada, which was to test, at once, Brock's qualities as a 
 general, and the mettle of the Canadian people. But, as 
 yet, all was outwardly tranquil, and Lilias and Marjorie, 
 as they paced the wide cool corridor that ran through the 
 house at Dunlathmon, — both doors thrown wide open to 
 catch every breath of air, — half persuaded themselves and 
 each other that the storm might yet blow over, and that 
 such horrible realities as war and bloodshed, so discordant 
 with the fair summer scene around them, might be still 
 averted. True, Marjorie's hopes only half pointed in the 
 direction of peace, for though she truly dreaded the horrors 
 and miseries of war, there was yet in her heart an under- 
 current of longing for something thrilling, something ex- 
 citing, — something to interrupt the tame current of peace- 
 
no 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 fill everyday life with the experiences more worthy of an 
 heroic age. And that there were heroes ready to make 
 heroic episodes, she was sure she knew. 
 
 Colonel McLeod's house was as strange a mingling of 
 the old and the new world as were its inmates. In the 
 hall, a stuffed wild cat and panther, — trophies of the 
 Colonel's hunting skill, — guarded the entrance with some- 
 what startling effect. The large antlers of a deer did duty 
 as a hat stand, and a majestic stuffed eagle spread its wings 
 above it ; while, on the side, a hunting rifle, a Highland 
 "claymore" and an officer's sword were crossed with 
 martial effect. In the large airy drawing-room, skins 
 chiefly did duty as carpets, and a fox-skin took the place 
 of a hearth-rug. An ornamental dirk set with cairn-gorms, 
 coral and shells from the West Indies, and spar and petri- 
 fied moss from the Falls, were among the table ornaments, 
 and two or three really good family portraits, — both oil- 
 paintings and miniatures, — gave animation to the walls. 
 Besides these there were other " curiosities " scattered 
 about, relics of the Colonel's military experiences in differ- 
 ent parts of the world. Lilias was never tired of looking 
 at them when she visited Dunlathmon, and of hearing 
 Marjorie's account of their history, and, sometimes, Mrs. 
 McLeod's reminiscences of her West Indian home, with 
 its intense burning sunshine, rich tropical foliage, coral 
 ' , T and still, glassy, palm-fringed lagoons. The pictures 
 Wi.'»r. her words called up seemed to open to Lilias 
 
 ti! ! 
 
GOLDEN HOURS. 
 
 121 
 
 ^ of an 
 ) make 
 
 jling of 
 In the 
 of the 
 I some- 
 id duty 
 s wings 
 ighland 
 d with 
 1, skins 
 le place 
 -gorms, 
 d petri- 
 ments, 
 oth oil- 
 walls, 
 altered 
 dififer- 
 ooking 
 earing 
 , Mrs. 
 e, with 
 coral 
 pictures 
 Lilias 
 
 glimpses of the distant strange world without, which her 
 imagination, bounded by its Canadian experiences, sought 
 wistfully to penetrate. 
 
 It need scarcely be said that the new acquisitions of 
 poetry which Lilias had brought with her were soon pro- 
 duced and were eagerly seized upon by Marjorie, who 
 devoured "Marmion" in a few hours; reading it with 
 flushed cheek and quickened breathing, as the stirring 
 scenes, so vividly depicted in thrilling words, passed before 
 her mental vision. The small volume which Captain Perci- 
 val had sent with the " Lady of the Lake " was Coleridge's 
 " Ancient Mariner," which, though it had been first pub- 
 lished more than ten years before, was as new to the girls 
 as were the poems of Scott ; for in those days new books 
 were few and rare in Canada, and often arrived there only 
 by tardy and roundabout means. Both poems were 
 enjoyed by the girls together, sitting under the shade of 
 the balmy pines, or ensconced in some bosky nook on the 
 steep declivity overlooking the river ; till, driven in by the 
 heat or the mosquitoes, they were fain to seek shelter in 
 the cool shady hall, or the drawing-room. It would be 
 difficult to tell whether Marjorie enjoyed most the " Lady 
 of the Lake " or the " Ancient Mariner ; " the first appeal- 
 ing so strongly to her Highland sympathies, and picturing 
 so vividly the glorious scenery of her fatherland, as well as 
 giving thrilling voice to her own love of country, and the 
 second gratifying her passion for the weird and super- 
 
122 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 natural, — the sublimity of the vague and undefined, the 
 suggested, rather than described. But to Lilias, the chief 
 charm of this fascinating poem lay — and this was owing 
 in no small degree to the influence which Ernest Heath- 
 cote's mind had had upon her own — in the high moral 
 feeling and purpose which breathe like a soul through the 
 poem, not in the least injuring, but rather heightening its 
 artistic beauty. And by their talk over the poems as they 
 read, the two girls mutually increased and widened each 
 other's enjoyment of them. Captain Percival had soon 
 discovered the fact that Lilias was a guest at Dunlathmon, 
 and had ridden over on Hector to pay a morning call, 
 which ended in his remaining for an early dinner and 
 staying the greater part of the day. Marjorie's watchful 
 eyes, always keen enough in such matters, soon discov- 
 ered, under his usual nonchalant and cool manner, a degree 
 of special interest in Lilias which he evidently desired to 
 conceal. She could see that while he talked freely with 
 her^ yielding to the influence of her lively animation and 
 determination to " draw him out of his shell," and while he 
 played at flirtation with merry little Flora, it was to Lilias 
 that he always turned for sympathy or approval of any 
 opinion or sentiment which came really from his heart. 
 But Marjorie, though she heartily approved of his taste in 
 admiring Lilias, had in her secret heart no desire to see 
 him the successful woer of her friend. She by no means 
 disliked Captain Percival, in whose society she always 
 
 ** 
 
 ^'^i l .' ' l > ! l> »Hl! 
 
GOLDEN HOURS. 
 
 1^3 
 
 enjoyed, to a certain extent, the sense of collision with a 
 nature very dififerent from her own. She liked to carry on 
 skirmishing conflicts on subjects regarding which there was 
 war to the knife between them, and delighted in taunting 
 him with his ignorance of Canadian history, as well as in 
 enlightening it to some extent : for, as she playfully told 
 Lilias, she had given him a synopsis of it from the time 
 Jacques Cartier set up his wooden cross on the shore of 
 Chaleurs Bay, — her information being chiefly derived from 
 the tales and traditions of old colonists. But she had no 
 great admiration for Percival's character, so far as she 
 could see it ; and for Ernest Heathcote she had a strong 
 and faithful regard, and had long ago sketched out a little 
 romance for him and Lilias, which she would have been 
 very sorry to see interfered with by any interloper, so 
 inferior to Ernest in all that in her eyes constituted real 
 nobihty, as was Francis Percival. It may fairly be 
 doubted, however, whether she fully appreciated the latter, 
 whose apparent lack of sensibility and enthusiasm repelled 
 her, so that she could not discern the really fine qualities 
 that lay under the outward shell of cynicism and seeming 
 callousness. 
 
 But, that Ernest might at least have fair play, — though 
 she would not have dared to hint at her object to Lilias, — 
 Marjorie arranged that one of her brothers should bring 
 him over for a visit to Dunlathmon. And there, one " all- 
 goiden afternoon," when her father and Major Meredith 
 
 I 
 
m^ 
 
 W4* 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 were aw.iy dining at Fort George, the three — but especially 
 Ernest and Lilias — spent .some inexpressibly pleasant 
 hours, wandering among the pines, breathing their aromatic 
 fragrance and enjoying the shimmer of the golden sun 
 rays on the brown carpet of " needles " below, — listening 
 to the rush of the river, and indulging in the half-dreamy 
 talk of past and present, which such a summer day, with 
 its iiolce far niente, is so fitted to promote. Lilias got 
 Ernest to read aloud for them the "Ancient Mariner," 
 which was new to him also, and which he read, as she 
 knew he would do, with his heart in his voice — for which 
 indeed he could find no fitting epithet of admiration, so 
 completely did it chime in with the at once imaginative 
 and reflective tone of his own mind. After it, even the 
 spirited numbers of Scott seemed commonplace, a descent 
 from the lofty mountain tops of spiritual insight, with their 
 rarified atmosphere, to the woods and pastures, fair though 
 they be, of outward material life. The spiritual problems 
 furnished by the poem, with its exquisite close, gave them 
 subjects for a long earnest talk, while the rich warm sun- 
 set hues of sky and landscape faded into gray twilight, and 
 the young moon gleamed out from the pale sky above the 
 line of dark forest on the opposite shore. 
 
 One thing, by common unexpressed consent, they kept 
 out of their talk as far as possible, so as not to spoil the 
 golden hours as they glided by : — the future, with all its 
 Ijrooding possibilities. As a recognised object of dread^ 
 
GOLDEN HOURS. 
 
 1*5 
 
 yet one apparently vague and uncertain, the thought of 
 war, so incredible and so discordant with the outwardly 
 peaceful present, was gladly kept out of sight, that the 
 passing moments, at least, might be enjoyed undisturbed 
 by it. Mrs. McLeod, alone, would put 1 rnest through the 
 routine of questions with which she persistently plied 
 every visitor, as to what he thought about the prospect of 
 peace or war, — what the Americans would be likely to do 
 first, &c., &c., with regard to all which she never received 
 much satisfaction. Her anxiety generally seemed to cul- 
 minate in the question what they should do with their 
 plate and valuables in the event of a successful invasion 
 of the frontier. 
 
 Marjorie diplomatically and benevolently managed to 
 let Ernest and Lilias have a tete-a tete, while she played 
 and sang to them as they sat in the piazza in the summer 
 twilight. It is not to be denied that they both inwardly 
 enjoyed it, for though they said nothing that Marjorie 
 might not have heard, they could both speak more freely 
 and more confidentially when alone together: especially 
 while the rich plaintive strains of Marjorie's music floated 
 out to them through the open windows, and seemed to 
 break down the barriers of matter-of-fact every-day life, 
 and to attune heart and speech to higher chords. Ernest 
 freed to some extent from his late reserve, talked a little of 
 himself and his own affairs, and Lilias was glad to find 
 that he was more at rest, — less oppressed by anxiety and 
 
Ii6 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 iit 
 
 restless longings than when she had last seen him at Oak- 
 ridge, because he had learned more the secret of laying 
 his burdens on the one heart that can receive the soul's 
 burden and imparl strength instead. 
 
 About his cousin Rachel he was still anxious, for, from 
 rumours and hints that occasionally reached his ear, he 
 knew more than he cared to tell of Payne's unscrupulous- 
 ness and of his disposition to prowl about Oakridge. 
 Lilias promised to keep a vigilant watch when she re- 
 turned, and, if possible, to shield Rachel from his influence, 
 without disturbing her mother's peace. 
 
 But Ernest still kept absolute silence upon the subject 
 nearest to his heart, — the feeling of honourable responsi- 
 bility for his use of the confidence reposed upon him, still 
 sealing his lips. There had grown up, however, insen- 
 sibly, a deep mutual consciousness, underlying all their 
 intercourse, which would not let them be quite as they 
 once had been, and which almost superseded the need of 
 words. And when Ernest took his leave of the two girls, 
 who had strolled to the gate with him on his departure, 
 his parting clasp of Lilias' hand seemed to tell her all she 
 needed to know. 
 
 When they next met, both forgot that each had not 
 had more definite expression of the other's feelings. 
 
 J 
 
 riv 
 
 thj 
 pn 
 otl 
 Di 
 coi 
 hal 
 the 
 ove 
 qui 
 
A RIDE TO NIAGARA FALLS. 
 
 127 
 
 id not 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A RIDE TO NIAGARA FALLS. 
 
 " The roar of waters t— from the headlong height 
 Niagara cleaves the wave-worn precipice, 
 The fall of waters ! rapid as the light 
 The flashing wave foams, shaking the abyss. 
 
 "There stirs the feeling infinite, so felt 
 In solitude, where we at least alone ; 
 A truth which through our being then doth melt 
 And purifies from self!" 
 
 JUNE was almost over before the projected excursion 
 to the Falls could be carried out. At last a day ar- 
 rived when all things favoured the expedition. The morn- 
 ing broke warm and bright, and the party mustered early, 
 that the ride might be accomplished ere the day grew op- 
 pressively warm. Captain Percival and the two or three 
 other officers who were to accompany them breakfasted at 
 Dunlathmon. Marjorie, Lilias and Mrs. McLeod had 
 come down to breakfast ready equipped in their riding- 
 habits, with blue veils to protect them from the glare of 
 the sun ; and as soon as the bright, cheerful meal was 
 over, the horses were brought round and the party were 
 quickly mounted. Marjorie never looked so well as when 
 
1 j 
 
 ■ i 
 
 i 
 
 T 
 
 i 
 
 •j 
 
 i 
 1 
 
 1 
 1 1 
 
 1 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 f 
 
 i 
 i 
 
 i 
 
 1 
 
 i 
 
 ■' i 
 
 ! 
 i 
 
 ! »■ 
 
 liji 
 
 tlS 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 seated on Oscar — her glossy black steed, — her lithe, well- 
 proportioned figure showing to especial advantage as, with 
 firm seat and steady hand, she controlled the spirited 
 beast, while her cheek took a richer glow and her eye 
 sparkled with a brighter animation. Lilias and she pre- 
 sented an effective contrast; for, if Marjorie lacked her 
 friend's more delicate and regular loveliness, the anima- 
 tion of her bright mobile face, v. ith its greater vividness of 
 colouring, seemed to make ample amends for other defi- 
 ciencies ; and her physical strength and buoyancy seemed 
 a true index of the strength of feeling and character within. 
 Both girls combined with their perfect simplicity of man. 
 ner a high-bred grace and refinement which were theirs 
 by birthright, and which latter the daughters of the first 
 colonists retained longer than did their brothers, who had 
 to rough it among all kinds of companions. The graceful 
 feminine dignity of bearing, the musically modulated and 
 gentle tones — " an excellent thing in woman " — of both 
 Lilias and Marjorie, unaffected as they were, afforded a 
 striking contrast to the "loud" and familiar manner 
 affected by some modern " girls of the period," which is 
 certainly a descent from the old ideal of womanly grace, 
 and is too suggestive — though sometimes unjustly so — of 
 a lack of real refinement of nature. 
 
 Marjorie was in high spirits, although her glee had 
 had a slight check in the news that General Brock could 
 not, as she had ventured to hope, join the party. But 
 
 A-o. 
 
JU- -J ^ ..- - J. — - -.U-. 
 
 he, well- 
 as, with 
 spirited 
 her eye 
 she pre- 
 cked her 
 e anima- 
 ridness of 
 ther defi- 
 ;y seemed 
 er within, 
 y of man. 
 ere theirs 
 f the first 
 ;, who had 
 e graceful 
 ilated and 
 I"— of both 
 .fforded a 
 ,r manner 
 ' which is 
 .nly grace, 
 |tly so— of 
 
 glee had 
 [•Qck could 
 irty. But 
 
 MARJORIE. 129 
 
 then, it had hardly been expected that he could do so, for 
 the unceasing engagements of his busy life, — especially 
 busy just now, — left but little leisure for private pleasure 
 or telaxation to one, who 
 
 " Scorned delights, and lived lal)orious days" 
 
 However, he had promised to meet them on their return, 
 and accompany them home to dinnner in the evening ; 
 and the prospect of this was pleasure enough for Marjorie 
 to live on all day. So her brighr.ness and unaffected glee 
 made the life and sunshine of the expedition, as she 
 cantered off briskly, wherever the road would admit of it, 
 playfully challenging her friends to try the speed of their 
 chargers against Oscar, of whom she v/as very proud, anj 
 with whom she was perfectly en rapport. Or, when the 
 road would not admit of such rapidity of pace, she chatted 
 gaily with her nearest companion of the moment, making 
 even Percival laugh heartily as she related some amusing 
 instance of the contretemps and liarmless disasters of pri- 
 mitive bush-life. 
 
 The little cavalcade wound down among the pictur- 
 esque dingles that lie around Queenston Heights, and pur- 
 sued the shady road that followed pretty closely the wind- 
 ings of the river, as it rushed, strong and vividly green, in 
 its deep rock-hewn chasm below. They drew up for a 
 few minutes beside the whirlpool, to look down into its 
 solemn depths, dark and sombre as a mountain tarn, set 
 
 m 
 
i30 
 
 tok KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 in the midst of dusky pines ; and to trace its giddy whirl- 
 ing eddies, while they tossed down broken branches to be 
 sucked into the circling vortex. It was a spot Marjorie 
 delighted in, — one of her " Ossianic places," as she called 
 it ; and she loved to construct in fancy a " bower" for her 
 favourite bard, among the overhanging pines. 
 
 About a mile farther on, Marjorie called a halt, and 
 commanded Percival to listen attentively. 
 
 " Don't you hear it." she said : — " ' the sound of many 
 waters?'" 
 
 Percival Hstened ; his ears were not quite so quick as 
 Marjories. But presently he heard it — that indescribable, 
 distant mt-rmur which can only be compared to the voice 
 of the sea when at its grandest — a mu.niur softer than 
 fairy-bells, yet with an ineffable expression of majesty, 
 power and sublimity — a sound that few who have heard 
 it can easily forget. Even Percival's usually determinedly 
 impassive face changed and softened as he listened, and 
 a certain quietness came over the mood of the little party 
 as they went on their way. 
 
 Niagara Falls, then visited by comparatively few, was 
 looked upon as a greater and more mysterious wonder 
 than now, when it is beheld annually by thousands, who 
 emerge upon its grandeur, fresh from the shriek of the 
 steam whistle ; or catch a passing glimpse of its white 
 surge from the windows of the train, in which they are 
 borne swiftly through the air across the thread-like. Sus- 
 
 """••-"■~-*nn'inrr'''TTr'T"'-'*--'-'--rr'"T'-" 
 
MARJORIE. 
 
 nt 
 
 / whirl- 
 ;s to be 
 larjorie 
 e called 
 for her 
 
 lalt, and 
 
 of many 
 
 quick as 
 cribable, 
 the voice 
 fter than 
 majesty, 
 e heard 
 minedly 
 nod, and 
 |tle party 
 
 few, was 
 wonder 
 
 ^ds, who 
 of the 
 
 ts white 
 
 |hey are 
 ike. Sus- 
 
 pension Bridge. Many of these, too, when they " visit the 
 Falls," come, not so much for the sake of really seeing and 
 enjoying them, as because they have a vague idea that it 
 is a right and fitting thing to do in certain circumstances. 
 But in those days of tedious and difficult travel, few went 
 out of their way to see the Falls, who were not impelled by 
 a very earnest desire to behold a sight which early travel- 
 lers had described in language fitted to produce a deep 
 and^ perhaps, even exaggerated impression of its awfulness 
 and sublimity ; and who thus came with their minds pre- 
 disposed to feelings of awe and veneration, and were, 
 therefoiv?, affected accordingly. 
 
 In those days, too, the immediate vicinity of the cata- 
 ract Wt'.s not disfigured and vulgarised, as now, by hotels, 
 museums, photograph-galleries and other obtrusive em- 
 bodiments of the commonplace. Germans would have 
 managed better, had their land been endowed with a 
 Niagara Falls ; and would have had nothing, within sight 
 at least, so lamentably out of keeping. But, at that time, 
 the comparatively humble inn was not conspicuously ob- 
 trusive amid the surrounding forest, and when the eques- 
 trians had left their horses there, and walked on to get a 
 full view of what they had as yet seen on!" as a veil of 
 white mist glimmering through the intervening trees, they 
 approached the brink of the cataract by a road which still 
 possessed much of the beauty of unspoiled nature. 
 
 At last they stood at a point where there was no more 
 
i iini i 
 
 !■ I 
 
 
 t32 
 
 FOR KIN<S ANt) COUNTRY. 
 
 foliage to intercept the view, and had before them the full 
 reach of the great, wide basin, sweeping round in its mag- 
 nificent curve. Opposite to them rose the rugged, deeply- 
 scarped clififs of the American shore, crowned with rich, 
 green forest ; then, the white wall of shimmering, ever- 
 shifting foam, lost below in swift ascending clouds of 
 shadowy spray ; next, the shady bosquets of Goat Island, 
 set like an emerald among the boiling surges; and then 
 the black, foam-sprinkled rocks and the gteat curve of the 
 Horse-Shoe Fall. In the bright summer sunshine, its 
 central waters gleamed in their purest, most pellucid green, 
 flecked with tossing wreaths of snowy foam ; at its feet 
 boiled a chaos of spray and seething foam, from which 
 constantly ascended the white vapoury veil that sometimes 
 concealed altogether the green depths behind, and on 
 •which, as the sunbeams pierced its edge, rested the bril- 
 liant Iris, the bow of peace. Far down below, the turbu- 
 lent river, boiling and tossing, rushed foaming along, to 
 grow somewhat calmer as it filled the full width of the 
 basin, and then, contracting betwr?n narrower banks, to 
 become a deep intense green, witi^. almost the apparent 
 solidity of malachite— this illusion being increased by its 
 being seemingly caked and cracked into masses separated 
 by white veins of foam, caused by hidden rocks and 
 shallows. 
 
 The little party stood for a good while absorbed in 
 silently contemplating the scene before them, which, 
 
 iU! 
 
the full 
 ts mag- 
 deeply- 
 ith rich, 
 ig, ever- 
 louds of 
 t Island, 
 ind then 
 ve of the 
 hine, its 
 id green, 
 t its feet 
 tn which 
 )metimes 
 and on 
 the bril- 
 ,Q turbu- 
 lalong, to 
 Ih of the 
 anks, to 
 pparent 
 :d by its 
 parated 
 :ks and 
 
 kbed in 
 which, 
 
 MARjORIfi. !13, 
 
 whether one beholds it for the first or the hundredth time, 
 takes despotic possession of the whole being, with a fasci- 
 nation as resistless as its own mighty surge, while the 
 great, unceasing, overpowering " sound of many waters." 
 seems to pervade and overflow every avenue of conscious- 
 ness, — to fill far more than the mere sense of hearing. 
 Majorie forgot, for a time, the existence not only of the 
 companions around her, but of everything else in the 
 world except this one majestic presence, seeming almost 
 an independent existence ; or, to speak more truly, so 
 forcible a manifestation of the Eternal Being who origi- 
 nates and maintains all things, whose "pavilion round 
 about Him are dark waters and thick clouds of the skies^" 
 Percival, for the time, felt his ordinarily careless mood 
 subdued and solemnised by the irresistible sense of a Pre- 
 sence of which he usually thought but little ; and, in the 
 confused maze of thought which the impressions of sight 
 and sound seemed to evoke, there glimmered before him 
 a sort of higher ideal of himself, an image, as it were, of 
 the being he was meant to be, and might be yet, if he 
 would. Lilias, too, felt strongly the intense fascination ; 
 though, unlike Marjorie, she had not lost in it the feeling 
 of all other things, but was keenly sensible of a strong 
 undertone of regret that Ernest, who would enjoy this so 
 intensely, should not be here to share the.delight with her. 
 She knew he had often seen it, for he thought nothing of 
 the fifteen-mile walk from Newark, on a holiday, to secure 
 
i i 
 
 ^1 
 
 134 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 i i 
 
 
 
 i 1 
 i ■ 
 
 N - 1 
 
 a few hours there ; but they had never been there together, 
 and she felt, rather than thought, how much this would 
 have enhanced the enjoyment to both. But, as she looked 
 and listened, the regret seemed to fade away in a blissful 
 dreamlike -et , , in which, not only did she seem lifted 
 nearer the Invisible .Source of Love as well as of Power, 
 but seemed to have as close a fellowship with Ernest as 
 though he were by her side. 
 
 But the St". . -i ^'^cnse feeling of any kind can never 
 last long with oax c ,0. ..:itf: mortal organizations, and the 
 silent mood of most of i' e ^artv was at length broken in 
 upon by Cc^onfi : .a-L r^d — ,. acted as generalissimo — 
 declaring, in his sonorous Hij^ ..lULi.d tones, that it was 
 high time they had something to eat after their long ride. 
 This hint was followed by the appearance of a substantial 
 array of sandwiches, biscuits and ale, ordered down from 
 the inn, which the excursionists, throwing themselves 
 down on the grass, in the most comfortable attitudes they 
 could find, incontinently proceeded to discuss. Marjorie 
 was the hardest tj awaken from her trance; but, when 
 once aroused, she became, by a sudden reaction, the mer- 
 riest of the party, declaring that she found herself raven- 
 ously hungry, and that mortals, however they might delight 
 in the beautiful and sublime, could not, in the meantime, 
 live upon it. Lilias, who could not change her mood so 
 easily and was much less disposed to talk, found it a 
 burden to answer Captain Percival ; even though he was 
 
MARJORIE. 
 
 135 
 
 speaking, with fin earnestness not usual with him, of his 
 impressions of the wonderful sight before them ; and she 
 felt the merriment of the party generally, rather oppressive 
 in those particular circumstances. She would gladly have 
 been alone— or better — alone with Ernest, free to talk, or 
 not to talk, as she liked ; — enjoying the communion of 
 silence, which only those whose natures thoroughly har- 
 monize with each other can share. 
 
 Luncheon over, the little party scattered in various 
 directions — the elders preferring to rest, while the Major, 
 Colonel McLeod, and one or two of the senior officers en- 
 joyed, at the same time, their " whifif " of fragrant tobacco. 
 Percival, and a young lieutenant named Grant, who was 
 an especial admirer of Marjorie's, sauntered slowly up the 
 river bank with the two girls, watching the wildly tossing 
 rapids as they dashed and tuml?led along, now flowing 
 down a slope with a deceitful oily smoothness, and then 
 leaping high into the air, tossing their snowy crests in 
 seeming fury as some unseen rock opposed their progress. 
 They walked on to the spot, about a mile above the Falls, 
 where, perhaps, the rapids are finest, where they show 
 their grandest slope and dash, fonming over innumerable 
 black ledges of rock, in as many tiny cascades, each 
 worthy of admiration and study as a miniature cataract. 
 Everywhere the same ceaseless untiring rush; the same 
 hurrying flow of water, knowing no more ebb or stay than 
 time itself, making the beholder wonder when the madly 
 
It 
 
 12^ 
 
 rOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 surging tide will be spent by the very force of its own 
 violence, — whence comes the mighty inexhaustible supply 
 that keeps its flood-gates full ; and filling up the whole 
 being with the one idea of rush and motion. 
 
 None of the party talked much ; the young lieutenant, 
 who might have waxed loquacious had he received en- 
 couragement, being rath jr repressed by the more silent 
 mood of his companions. The walk would have been an 
 oppressively hot one, at that hour, but for the shade of the 
 tall trees which overhung the path during the whole way. 
 But the mosquitoes, which haunted tae moist ground they 
 were passing over, made such good use of their opportuni- 
 ties, that Percival was fain to swallow down a muttered 
 execration, and to declar j that sight-seeing in Canada was 
 certainly subject to pains and penalties. 
 
 After strolling slowly back, Marjorie and Lilias sat 
 down to rest on Table Rock, while the young men per- 
 formed the feat, possible only to the stronger sex in those 
 days, of climbing down the face of the clifif to the ledge 
 below by means of a rough Indian ladder, — a huge hem- 
 lock with branches partially cut off, — which was then the 
 only means of descent. It had been honoured, however, 
 by being used by a royal prince, on the occasion of the 
 Duke of Kent's visit to Niagara ; and what the rude stair 
 lacked in ease and safely, it made up in the excitement 
 and hazard of the descent. The young men enjoyed it,— 
 enjoyed, too, the cooling drenching they got from the 
 
 iXjim 
 
&{ARJORIE. 
 
 137 
 
 spray, as they stood below, and the magnificence of the 
 spectacle above them, — the massive descending column of 
 water, the wreathing clouds of spray and vapour, — while 
 the girls above marked their progress by their receding 
 voices, and, when all was still, waited somewhat anxiously 
 for their re-appearance. They did re-appear at last, 
 flushed, excited and triumphant, and assuring their com- 
 panions that it was " magnificent, glorious," down there ; 
 that, " in fact, you could have no conception of what the 
 Falls really were till you had seen them from below !" 
 Captain Percival was really for once excited and enthusias- 
 tic ; and Marjorie declared to Lilias, sotto voce, as they still 
 lingered a little on the rock, that it was almost as well 
 worth seeing as the Falls, to have ocular demonstration 
 that he could be so stirred. 
 
 " Do you notice how handsome it makes him ?" she 
 asked Lilias^ — " with that flush, and his eyes gleaming out 
 so brilliantly ! He really looks almost like the Prince in 
 the fairy tales. I should fancy he would look just like 
 that when leading his men into action. Come, Lihas," 
 she added, a little mischievously, " confess, — isn't he far 
 handsomer than Ernest Heathcote ? " 
 
 But Lilias would not confess anything of the kind; for 
 to her eye Ernest was the handsomer of the two. How- 
 ever, she admitted that he was looking very well, and en- 
 joyed watching his fine face, so unusually brightened by 
 animation, as she would have admired a picture. 
 
! 
 
 i 
 
 138 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 The young men were waiting for them a little way off 
 but the girls could hardly tear themselves away from their 
 fascinating post of observation. Then Marjorie insisted 
 on going up once more to the very brink of the Falls, and 
 standing as close as was possible to the headlong tide. 
 At last she grasped Lilias' arm with a nervous shudder, 
 and exclaimed : — " Come away ! That strange feeling is 
 coming over me ! If I don't go away at once, 1 shall throw 
 myself over!" 
 
 And, clinging fast to Lilias, who was not unaccustomed 
 to such manifestations of the excitable temperament of 
 her friend, she willingly turned away from the fascination 
 that was becoming too strong, and they rejoined the rest 
 of the party. 
 
 Meantime, unobserved by them, the day had been 
 growing more sultry, the air had become absolutely still, 
 and an ominous deep blue cloud had risen rapidly above 
 the horizon, and was already beginning to darken the sky. 
 They found the others scanning the aspect of things rather 
 anxiously. 
 
 " We're in for a thunder-storm, that's certain," said 
 Colonel McLeod, who was a capital weather-gauge, " and 
 it's no use to think of getting home before it comes. So 
 the best thing we can all do is to get under shelter at the 
 inn, and wait till it's over. And there's no time to lose, 
 for it will be down directly ! " 
 
 Taking the Colonel's advice, all hastened to the inn, 
 
 ik 
 
inn, 
 
 MARJORIE. 139 
 
 while, even as they went, the cloud increased rapidly, ex- 
 panding into ragged-edged black fragments that spread 
 themselves over the sky, and taking strange lurid lights on 
 its upper masses. Hardly were they well under shelter 
 before, simultaneously with the peal of thunder that fol- 
 lowed the first flash of lightning, came down the heavy, 
 pattering drops, which soon became a rushing, lashing 
 shower. 
 
 The room of which they took possession at the inn was 
 a good-sized, somewhat bare apartment, with windows 
 opening out on a wide upper piazza, supported by tall 
 hemlock pillars, rising to meet the roof. Here, while 
 sheltered from the force of the storm, they could enjoy the 
 grandeur of its effects, and could catch a glimpse of the 
 river, and of the upper portion of the Horse-Shoe Fall, 
 whose pure, transparent green had changed into dusky 
 brownish grey, now that the storm had obscured the sun- 
 shine and churned up the sediment from below into its 
 usually clear stream. The storm would evidently soon 
 exhaust itself, and, in the meantime, Marjorie and Lilias, 
 at any rate, intensely enjoyed watching it wreak its fury ; 
 the woods without bending and swaying beneath the force 
 of the wind and dashing rain, and the jagged flashes of 
 lightning darting from the dark clouds, while the long, 
 rolling peals of thunder, harmonizing grandly with the 
 hollow roar of the Falls, were yet not so long or so close 
 »s to ftlarm ^hem. At last the sky began to grow clearer, 
 
t¥> 
 
 FOR KING Al^D GOONTRY. 
 
 the wind lulled, the lightning ceased, the violence of the 
 rain abated, and, in an incredibly short time, the sun 
 broke out, re-asserting its power, and dispersing the clouds, 
 while the dripping foliage sparkled with a thousand bril- 
 liants in the glowing sunshine. 
 
 As a good deal of time had been necessarily lost by the 
 delay, the horses were ordered out at once, and the party 
 were soon remounted for the homeward ride, for which, 
 now that the air had been cleared and refreshed by the 
 storm, both horses and riders fell^much mpre spirit. The 
 roads, which the rain had covered with streams of water, 
 were drying fast under the influence of the warm sunshine, 
 and the woods around them seemed to be rejoicing after 
 their bath, and to wear a fresher, tenderer, more vivid 
 green. 
 
SUDDEN TIDINGS. 
 
 141 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 SUDDEN TIDINGS. 
 
 "Alas, must war again begin, 
 
 And must men fiKht and die ?" 
 
 " I wis, in all the Senate 
 
 There was no heart su bold, 
 But sore it ached, and fast it beat 
 When that ill news was told ! " 
 
 IF Lilias could have had Ernest Heathcote for n 'Com- 
 panion on the homeward ride, it would have seemed to 
 ^er, in the renewed beauty of the hour, ahiiost Hke a ride 
 through the garden of Eden. As it was. Cap' tin Percival 
 took care to keep his place beside her, and I. ing himself 
 in an unusually animated mood, he succeeded in drawing 
 her out of the partial abstraction which she had allowed 
 to creep over her in the early part of the day. They 
 were, indeed, chatting very pleasantly, and "getting on" 
 unusually well, when Marjorie threw a chance, or perhaps 
 a mischievous missile, into the midst of their talk. Percival 
 asked how Lilias liked the volumes of poetry he had sent 
 her, and she was very heartily expressing her admiration, 
 when Marjorie, who was just in front, looked round, ex- 
 claiming: 
 
i4i 
 
 roR KtNG AND C0I)NTRY. 
 
 I 
 
 " Oh, / was so much obliged to you, too. Captain 
 Percival ! I don't know when I have read anything I en- 
 joyed so much! — especially 'The Ancient Mariner!' 
 Ernest Heathcote read it aloud to us the other evening, 
 and he reads so beautifully that we enjoyed it doubly." 
 
 Captain Percival bit his lip, and perhaps the colour on 
 his cheek glowed a little more deeply. 
 
 " Oh, indeed ! " he said, " I wasn't aware that Mr. 
 Heathcote was an elocutionist as well as a schoolmaster. 
 I suppose he teaches his ' young ideas ' to declaim 
 
 ' My name is Norval,on the Grampian hills ! ' " 
 
 There was a sneer in the tone as well as in the words. 
 Lilias flushed a little, but made no reply ; only drew her- 
 self up more stiffly in her saddle. Captain Percival must 
 have seen her annoyance, and perhaps it exasperated him 
 a little. He continued after a short silence: 
 
 "There are some not very creditable rumours afloat 
 about this black swan of yours, Miss Meredith." 
 
 " Indeed ! " Lilias replied, in a tone so determinedly 
 calm and indiflerent as to completely belie the heart which 
 the words had set wildly beating beneath. 
 
 " Yes," replied Percival, somewhat aggravated by her 
 tone, " they talk of him as a half Yankee, which I believe 
 he is, and say that he's playing double, having too much 
 to do with the Yankee spies and sedition-hatchers that are 
 hanging about." 
 
SUDDEN TIDINGS. 
 
 U3 
 
 I en- 
 iner!* 
 
 "Then I am sure they slander him most wickedly!" 
 exclaimed Lilias, surprised this time into some vehemence 
 of manner. " There is no man in Canada, I am certain, 
 more truly loyal than Mr. Heathcote !" 
 
 "Well, I only repeat what I have heard," said Percival, 
 with aggravating nonchalance. " You know the old say- 
 ing, * where there's smoke there's fire.' But Mr. Heath- 
 cote is fortunate in his friends ! When my character is 
 assailed, I hope I may be as ably and warmly defended ! " 
 
 Lilias, in no wise propitiated by the conclusion of this 
 speech, vouchsafed no reply. Almost immediately after- 
 wards, a diversion was caused by their meeting General 
 Brock, mounted on his grey horse " Alfred," near Queen- 
 ston Heights, where he had been reconnoitring with some 
 of his staff; and she managed to change her companion in 
 the general disarrangement that took place, taking care to 
 prevent Captain Percival from regaining his post by her 
 side. If he suffered in any wise by this proceeding, it 
 added another to the little accumulation of grudges which 
 had been growing up in his mind against Ernest Heath- 
 cote. 
 
 At General Brock's suggestion, they made a little 
 detour in order to ascend Queenston Heights and enjoy 
 the view from thence. The ascent was pretty rugged, but, 
 once on the brow of the Heights, the scene that lay spread 
 before them was fair enoucjh to repay the trouble ; 
 although, from the almost unbroken monotony of the ex- 
 
144 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 tensive forests around them, it presented much less variety 
 of beauty than the same view does now. The opposite 
 banks, indeed, showed a good many traces of settlement 
 and cultivation, and the scattered hamlet of Queenston 
 straggled around the Heights ; while here and there a 
 clearing, with its house or " snanty," might be seen. But 
 far to westward stretched almost unbroken masses of 
 forest for thousands of miles, where now it is replaced by 
 the houses and spires of many a town and village, a net- 
 work of railways, and many a fertile field and orchard. 
 Just below them, the same as now in all essential features, 
 flowed the river, green and rapid in its narrow channel, — 
 long since spanned by a suspension bridge, — and winding 
 away between high, steep, or sloping banks to the distant, 
 soft blue lake. Fort George and Fort Niagara frowning 
 across at each other at its mouth. In the opposite direc- 
 tion, a white cloud of mist, brooding over one point of the 
 high table-land that trended away to the westward, indi- 
 cated the spot where the forest hid in its bosom the 
 mighty cataract. The whole scene, lying bathed in the 
 soft rays of the afternoon sunshine, — one or two light 
 clouds making fine effects of light and shade in the 
 picture, — looked so sylvan, so peaceful, so secluded from 
 the world of action, that it would have seemed impossible 
 to associate it with scenes of war and bloodshed. Yet, 
 when some of the party next met on that spot, it was 
 amid the clash of arms and the rattle of musketry ; — man 
 
SUDDEN TIDINGS. 
 
 HS 
 
 dyeing, with the blood of his brother man, the fair inno- 
 cent ferns and green forest leaves, and leaving a sad 
 though a noble, memory to the place for ever. 
 
 General Brock was, according to his wont, scanning 
 every feature of the situation with his keen, military eye, 
 and remarking in a low voice to the officers about him its 
 characteristics. " A splendid position this would be," he 
 said, *' to hold against an assailing enemy ; and a despe- 
 rate place to lead up a forlorn hope, if the enemy were en- 
 trenched here. There would be some rough work on both 
 sides, in either case," — he added, looking thoughtfully 
 down at the steep, jagged, precipitous rocks which were, 
 indeed, to be the scene of "rough work," ere many weeks 
 had passed. Ma> jorie eagerly caught up what was said ; 
 everything connected with the war or warlike operations 
 was intensely interesting to her, and, much as she dreaded 
 it, her spirit rose at any allusion to it, with a thrill of ex- 
 citement which was not altogether painful. As for Lilias, 
 she was too much absorbed in tb ideas which Percival's 
 remarks had called up, — anxiety about the rumours he had 
 mentioned, and their effect upon Ernest's comfort and 
 prospects, — to take much heed of what, at another time 
 would have had a strong, though painful interest for her. 
 It was with no small effort that she managed to attend 
 sufficiently to her companion's not very interesting talk on 
 the way home, to put in the expected replies at the proper 
 places, and to prevent their being noticeably irrelevant. 
 
 10 
 
146 
 
 roR KiNC And coUKtRV. 
 
 
 
 As the party rode up to the house at Dunlathmon, d. 
 tall, stalwart figure, strongly built, and firm and light of 
 limb, clad in a rough serviceable suit, which did not, how- 
 ever, hide a thoroughly gentleman-like bearing, emerged 
 from the portico and came rapidly to meet them. 
 
 " Talbot ! as I live !" exclaimed Colonel McLeod, 
 springing from his saddle to give the stranger a hearty 
 grasp of the hand. " Why, what wind blew you here from 
 your wigwam ?" 
 
 " You may well ask that," replied the other, " for the 
 wind did blow me here a little faster than I should other- 
 wise have come ! The storm overtook me, and my beast 
 and I got a pretty good ducking before I could reach the 
 shelter of your hospitable roof; and here I've been walk- 
 ing about in the sun drying myself, and waiting your 
 return with what patience I could muster." 
 
 " Well, you're thoroughly welcome, my good fellow ! I 
 only wish you'd let us see you a little oftener ;" — and when 
 the stranger had paid his respects to the ladies and shaken 
 han^s with Major Meredith, he was introduced to General 
 Brock and the rest of the party, as " Colonel Talbot." 
 General Brock greeted the Color I most cordially, saying 
 that, though he had never met uim before, he had often 
 wished to do sc, — to which Colonel Talbot responded, 
 with bluff heartiness, that he was the very man whom at 
 present he most wanted to see, as he wished to find out 
 what possibilities of assistance he might have, in casQ 
 
SUDDEN TIDINGS. 
 
 U? 
 
 ion, a. 
 
 those "rascally Yankees" should, as he had heard they 
 had some intention of doing, make a raid upon his distant 
 and prosperous settlement. 
 
 Leaving the gentlemen to discuss politics and possibi* 
 lities of attack, on the verandah, the ladies, accompanied 
 by Flora, who had been left at home to help Dinah, and 
 look after her brothers' comfort, retired to change their 
 dresses with all convenient despatch. For the dinner, 
 which Dinah had been busy all day in preparing, that it 
 might be sumptuous enough for the occasion, was, as she 
 declared, " spilin' itself waitin' ;" and, shifting her roU 
 from head-cook to ladies' maid, she came up to help her 
 young ladies to "get into their finery" as speedily as pos- 
 sible. She was very proud of them when they were ready, 
 and declared that they looked "jest like two new-blown 
 roses." Both Marjorie and Lilias, indeed, showed some 
 traces, in their heightened colour, of the day's exposure to 
 the sun ; but to the rather pale complexion of Lilias this 
 was an improvement, while Marjorie's dark complexion 
 also looked all the better for the glow that gave it an 
 added brightness. Both girls wore white evening-dresses, 
 for Colonel McLeod liked to keep up a little of the pomp 
 and circumstance of old-country customs on special occa- 
 sions. Lilias was most becomingly attired in the " sprigged 
 muslin," with its delicate embroidery and Flanders lace, 
 of which mention has been made before, — its whiteness 
 relieved by a rich blue sashj while Marjorie had some- 
 
I\ 
 
 m 
 
 148 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 what fantastically brightened up her plainer India muslin, 
 destitute of modern "protrusive disguises," with a silk 
 scarf of McLeod tartan, thrown over one shoulder and 
 knotted at the other side below her waist. Flora, excited 
 and eager, looked very pretty in her simple white muslin 
 and pink ribbons. As the three girls — having first taken 
 a look into the dining-room to see that the table arrange- 
 ments were all right, and that Flora's vases of flowers were 
 properly placed, — entered the drawing-room, where the 
 gentlemen had now assembled, they made a prettily-con- 
 trasted group, — a vision radiant enough, at least, to disturb 
 the somewhat earnest conversation which had been going 
 on before their entrance, and, for the time, to turn talk and 
 ideas into a different channel. 
 
 As there were still a few minutes to wait for Mrs. 
 McLeod, who was always slow in her movements, Cap- 
 tain Percival seized the opportunity to come to Marjorie 
 for information about the new comer, who, — still of course 
 in the rough attire in which he had come, — was eagerly 
 talking with General Brock and Colonel McLeod, — his 
 rough, careless dress presenting a curious contrast to the 
 faultless attire of the General and to the high-collared 
 blue coat with bright buttons, which had been Colonel 
 McLeod's well-preserved dress suit for many a day. 
 
 " Do tell me who that ' stranger ' is, as your Yankee 
 neighbours say," said Captain Percival. "He looks like 
 a thorough gentleman, notwithstanding his rough ex-, 
 tenor" 
 
SUDDEN TIDINGS. 
 
 i49 
 
 "And he is a thorough gentleman!" said Marjorie; 
 "and a most independent gentleman, of very extensive 
 accomplishments ! Did you ever read of a gentleman and 
 a basket-maker who were cast ashore on a desert island, 
 among savages ; and the basket-maker turned ' boss,' as 
 the people here call it, and not only saved the poor gentle- 
 man's life by his skill, but finally took him as an appren- 
 tice in basket-making ? Well, Colonel Talbot could have 
 done basket-maker as well as gentleman. He can fell 
 trees, plough and sow, reap, milk, chum, cook, wash, 
 brew, bake bread, and clean his own boots ! " 
 
 Captain Percival raised his eyebrows slightly and said, 
 with mock humility: — "Your Highness is pleased to jest 
 with your humble servant." 
 
 " Not at all, I assure you ! He not only can do, but 
 has done all these things, and, moreover, besides all this, 
 he performs all the marriage ceremonies in the settle- 
 ment." 
 
 " Has he practised on himself then, in that line?" 
 
 " No," said Marjorie, smiling, " I believe he doesn't 
 care to have a woman about him, not even a female ser- 
 vant. People say that it was a love disappointment that 
 brought him to bury himself in the woods ; but I don't 
 know whether there's anything in that ! It was, I believe, 
 thought very odd that he should leave the army and 
 society, (he's of a noble family, you know), and should 
 choose to come and live in the woods with none to speak to 
 
150 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 but the Indians and the rough men who helped him to 
 clear his land. But he seems to like it. He's been there 
 ten years now, and he very seldom comes even as far as 
 this. It's more than two years since he has been here 
 before, although my father is one of his most intimate 
 friends, and goes to see him about once a year." 
 
 " How did he come to take up the idea ?" asked Per- 
 cival, interested in the singular phenomenon. 
 
 " Oh, he first came out with Governor Simcoe as his 
 aid-de-camp, about twenty years ago ; and went with him 
 on a surveying expedition all through the great western 
 district when Governor Simcoe was looking about for a 
 site for a new capital. So he took a fancy to found a 
 colony in the great wilderness, on the shore of Lake Erie, 
 where there were then only a few wandering Indians. He 
 says he believes what first put it into his head to come, was 
 his reading in Charlevoix that that country was the par- 
 adise of the Hurons, and, as he was determined to get to 
 Paradise by hook or crook, he came. But at any rate 
 he resolved to found a colony, and he has done it, through 
 tremendous difficulties and hardships. He has cleared 
 farms, cut roads, and settled numbers of emigrants, 
 and he reigns as a sort of king among them, in his log 
 palace on the cliff. Indeed, I believe he's a regular despot, 
 although he has a great deal of generosity and kindness of 
 heart. It's about ten years now, since he first took pos- 
 session of a qcrant of a hundred thousand acres th^t he got 
 
SUDDEN TIDINGS. 
 
 IJI 
 
 Per- 
 
 from the Home Government, and my father says it's won- 
 derful what a change he has made since then." 
 
 "Why, it sounds like one of the old stories I used to 
 read as a boy ! I didn't know you had such adventurous 
 paladins out here," said Percival, both amused and inter- 
 ested by the recital, " I must see if I can get him to tell 
 me some of his experience by and by." 
 
 " I have no doubt he will, if you show him proper re- 
 spect ;" replied Marjorie, gravely. " Remember he is used 
 to a great deal of deference in every one he meets." 
 
 "Thank you, I shall remember yjur hint. May I have 
 the honour of taking you in to dinner ? " 
 
 For Mrs. McLeod had made her appearance by this 
 time, and the move to the dining-room had begun. Colonel 
 McLeod, of course, offered his arm to Lilias, and General 
 Brock followed with his hostess. Percival found himself 
 almost opposite to Lilias, but the position was of little use 
 to him, as he could rarely manage even to catch her eye. 
 For Colonel Talbot, who sat on her right hand, and who 
 could wear even a courtly grace when he pleased, in talk- 
 ing with ladies, seemed willing to take full advantage of 
 his present privilege, — so great a contrast to the voluntary 
 isolation of his ordinary life ; and managed to carry on a 
 lively conversation with her and Flora, in the intervals of 
 the more earnest talk that circulated at the table. In 
 these circumstances, Percival consoled himself as well as 
 he could by watching the peculiarities of this remarkable 
 
»S2 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 ii 
 
 man, in whose history he had become a good deal intei"- 
 ested. 
 
 Colonel McLeod, as usual, did the honours of the table 
 with the dignified Highland courtesy for which he was 
 noted even in that age of old-fashioned politeness, beside 
 which our modem manners often seem rough and careless. 
 He was, himself, a distinguished-looking man, and the 
 rest of the party were a very favourable representation 
 of the best colonial society of the time. But the honoured 
 guest of the evening was, of course, General Brock, whom 
 all, by unexpressed consent, united in treating with special 
 deference, and whose commanding, graceful figure, and 
 calm noble face conferred on him a natural distinction 
 and pre-eminence ; although his own gently courteous 
 manner, unaffected modesty and simplicity of bearing 
 seemed to ignore any pretension of the kind. Such 
 careless observers, indeed, as are in the habit of asso- 
 ciating assumption with power, would hardly have im- 
 agined that this man, so nobly simple in his mien, held 
 in his hands the destinies of a province. Yet, though as 
 yet hardly bearing the narks even of middle age, he had 
 already bravely served his country in the West Indies, in 
 Holland and in Denmark, and had been called, not to the 
 military administration only, but also to preside for a time 
 over the government of a colony which he had found 
 divided, and to some extent disaffected, by injudicious 
 management ; but to which his wise and firm rule, free 
 
SUDDEN TIDINGS. 
 
 tss 
 
 from party bias and interest, seeking with enlightened zeal 
 the union and prosperity of the Province, had restored 
 order, harmony and hearty co-operation. And now that 
 a threatened storm was lowering around them, thousands 
 of peaceful people, scattered through an almost defence- 
 less territory, were looking to him as the guardian hero 
 who would safely pilot them through a crisis so fraught 
 with imminent peril to life, to property, and to interests 
 dearer than life itself. 
 
 But General Brock was far too much occupied with 
 the duties and responsibilities that lay upon him, to have 
 any room in his mind for thoughts of his own conse- 
 quence, — too much absorbed by his anxiety to do his duty 
 well and faithfully, to dwell upon the thought that he was 
 the man called to a work of no ordinary responsibility and 
 importance. When, as now, the prospects of the war 
 became the theme of conversation, it was his habit rather 
 to Hsten than to talk ; — to receive the ideas and sugges- 
 tions of others, rather than to express his own sentiments ; 
 — not so much from any intended reticence, as from a 
 desire to learn all that could be learned on the subject 
 under consideration ; and in this way he often gleaned 
 most valuable information. 
 
 From the threatened war at home to the existing one 
 abroad, was a natural transition ; and Captain Percival, 
 as the latest arrival, was plied with questions concerning 
 the Peninsular campaign, in which he had several friends 
 
tS4 
 
 FOR KINO AND COUNTRY. 
 
 and comrades engaged. Colonel Talbot was the only 
 man at the table who seemed to care nothing about it, 
 in whom even Ciudad-Rodrigo awakened little or no inter- 
 est. He had long, by force of the habit of isolation, 
 settled down into an almost total indifference as to the 
 course of European events, in one of the most stirring 
 periods of European history. His ambition as a soldier, 
 his home sympathies, had, in the pursuit of his one ab- 
 sorbing idea, almost faded away ; and Canada, and* 
 above all, his own little territory, blotted out to his mental 
 vision the whole world outside. But when Canadian 
 politics were touched upon, when his favorite theme — 
 British mismanagement of Canadian affairs — was alluded 
 to, he became all alive at once, and brought a shade of 
 redoubled gravity to General Brock's earnest, thoughtful 
 countenance, by relating, with great animation, one of his 
 favourite anecdotes in reference to the blunder which he 
 believed had been made in the cession of Detroit and 
 large tracts of the adjoining territory to the Americans. 
 
 " Why,'' said he, " I was talking one day with one of 
 the English Commissioners, and I just took the map and 
 showed him the foolish bargain they had made, and the 
 extent and value and resources of the ceded territory. 
 When the light did break in upon him at last, the man 
 covered his eyes with his hands and fairly burst into 
 tears!" 
 
 But the conversation soon passed to pleasanter sub- 
 
dVDDEN TIDINGS. 
 
 w 
 
 jects, for the dinner had reached the stage when men 
 prefer to avoid painful thoughts and topics. As the soft 
 rays of the fast descending sun stole in through the 
 western windows, penetrating the dusky pines with long 
 lines of golden light, and seeming to bring with ther; the 
 sweet pine odours, while the guests enjoyed the mellow 
 flavour of Colonel McLeod's old wine, — brought from 
 home and reserved for special occasions, — the talk drifted 
 away to the memories of the dear old land, so dear and 
 so close, despite all official delinquencies, to every true 
 colonist's heart. Major Meredith and Colonel McLeod 
 had each their memories of "merrie England" and 
 "bonnie Scotland," which seldom found expression except 
 on some such occasion as this ; and then Colonel 
 McLeod, as he often did at such times, reverted to his 
 favourite poet, "the Harp of Cona," through whose 
 strains still comes down the wailing voice of the wind 
 sighing on the heath-clad hill- side, breathing the lament 
 for departed beauty or fallen valour. He was soon in 
 the midst of an eager discussion as to the genuineness 
 of the poems, warmly defending the affirmative, and 
 praising their power and beauty. 
 
 "Where," he said, "will you find a finer expression of 
 
 .n« thought than this, in almost the closing lines?" 
 
 I he repeated, first in Gaelic and then in English, in 
 
 • (lies whose sonorous cadences fitted well the simple 
 
 majesty of the words, the following passage: "The 
 
156 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 chiefs of other times are departed. They have gone 
 without their fame ! The sons of future years shall pass 
 away. Another race shall ari^e. The people are like the 
 waves of ocean, like the leaves of the woody Morven, 
 they pass away in the rustling blast, and other leaves lift 
 their green heads o i high !" 
 
 Just as he uttered these concluding words the tramp 
 of two horses was heard rapidly galloping up the avenue to 
 the door. Somehow, the sound seemed to indicate hasty 
 tidings ; and this idea was confirmed when black Caesar 
 appeared to say that Colonel McDonell — General Brock's 
 Aid-de-camp— and another gentleman, wished to speak 
 with the General. He rose at once and left the room, and 
 an expectant stilness crept over tl.e partv during his 
 absence, which lasted for a considerable time. No one 
 seemed able to start a new subject or continue an old one, 
 except Mrs. McLeod, who talked on to her neighbours 
 unfiaggingly in her soft mixture of West Indian languor 
 and vivacity. 
 
 At last the door opened, and General Brock entered 
 alone, paler than when he had left the room, as if touched 
 by some recent emotion, and grave with the look of respon- 
 sibility which every thoughtful man must wear when 
 called to act in some new and momentous crisis, even 
 though it may have been expected and prepared for. He 
 stood for a moment silent, his hand resting on the back of 
 his chair, the last rays of the setting sun lighting up his 
 
SUDDEN TIDINGS. 
 
 157 
 
 ave gone 
 shall pass 
 re like the 
 Morven, 
 leaves lift 
 
 he tramp 
 avenue to 
 ite hasty 
 •k Caesar 
 1 Brock's 
 to speak 
 >om, and 
 ring his 
 No one 
 old one, 
 Sfhbours 
 languor 
 
 moved but calm and resolute face ; and it was with a 
 solemn impressiveness of voice that told how deeply he felt 
 the weighty import of the tidings he had to communicate 
 —tidings which he knew had their special and intense 
 interest for each one who heard him — that he said, at last, 
 in low but distinct tones that thrilled through the stilness 
 of every expectant ear : — " I have just had private intelli- 
 gence from Washington ? War was declared there on the 
 eighteenth/" 
 
 entered 
 ouched 
 'espon- 
 when 
 > even 
 . He 
 ack of 
 up his 
 
! 
 
 1' 
 
 
 i 
 
 ■'■ji 
 
 1 
 
 i 
 
 n 
 
 t|» 
 
 *^0k KiNQ AKD COUNTRV. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 TO ARMS ! 
 
 "The harvests of Arretium 
 
 This year, old men shall reap • 
 ^'L'^^r';'y°""gt»oysinUmL 
 A„H ,u""^" 'he struggling sheep ; 
 And m the vats of Luna '^' 
 
 This year, the must shall foam 
 
 nication excited in the mi„H r ^ ^"""''' ~™""- 
 
 a cHsi. i„.„„„, „:::::;- -"""-'< '»• s«ch 
 
 stability of things -so m ^'""^' °'<'='- «nd 
 
 almost refuses to 'JerT, ""''"'"^^ ^'^'^ '"^ -^"'^ 
 -y have been expected „ IT """"' '""^™^ '""^ " 
 denness, and a stunned difficl J"? ^"'"^'^ -" -d- 
 
 -*-Ha. Which attends de:rierT-~- 
 Silence that succeeded th. ^ momentary 
 
 by excavations orit?::;™- "^ »» ^^^^^ 
 damnation of the American r ""P^"^'™^ "^ con- 
 
 strong according to, hot. ^'"'^™'"^'«. '"ore or less 
 
 'Heyemanated/Arr-;':;;-----n,„^ 
 
 »PP0«ed b, ;etferso„.s o.„ C" ™r.r::' 
 
to AkMS. 
 
 m 
 
 long as he remained in office, had done all in his power to 
 restrain the " torrent of passion " that was directed towai'd 
 war, and to bring in " another umpire than that of arms," 
 I. e. the embargo ; that he had been firm and sincere in 
 warding off war as long as possible, — only desiring that, 
 if it must come, it should come at a time " when England 
 has a Bonaparte upon her hands." But the Canadians at 
 that time did not see it exactly in this light. To them, — 
 and even to such keen and careful observers as General 
 Brock,* — it had seemed that, so far back as 1808, the 
 American Government had been scheming to provoke a 
 war which, as regarded Canada, appeared to them the 
 wanton and rapacious invasion of an unoffending country 
 at a time when their natural protector was crippled in her 
 
 * The following passages, extracted from letters of Jefferson and General 
 Brock, will show how differently the same things appear from different points 
 of view : — 
 
 Jefferson (in 1812), 
 
 " If ever I was gratified with the possession of power, and of the confidence 
 of those who had entrusted me with it, it was on that occasion when I was 
 enabled to use both for the prevention of war, toward which the torrent 
 of passion was directed almost irresistibly, and when not another person in 
 the United States less supported by authority and favour could have resis- 
 ted it." 
 
 General Brock (in 1808). 
 
 " We have completely outwitted Jefferson, and all his schemes to provoke 
 us to war. He had no other object in view in issuing his restrictive procla- 
 mation ; t)ut failing in that, he tried what the embargo would produce, and in 
 this he has been foiled again. Certainly our Administration is deserving of 
 every praise for their policy on these occasions. Jefferson and his party, 
 however strong the inclination, dare not declare war, and therefore thtj 
 endeavour t9 attain their object by every provocation ;" <Scc. 
 
 ,' 
 
 lili 
 
 II 
 
 Uh 
 
 I'! 
 
i6o 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 \:i ■ 
 
 power to aid them by hostilities at home. When, there- 
 fore, the declaration of war by Congress was really placed 
 beyond a doubt, it seemed to them only the climax of a 
 long continued policy, — especially marked in President 
 Madison — designed to aggravate hostile feelings and to 
 excite the popular mind to the point of invasion. And it 
 can scarcely be wondered at that those who had to bear 
 the brunt of the contest without having done anything to 
 provoke it, — who saw their peaceful homes exposed to be 
 ravaged by a formidable enemy close at hand, without 
 almost a reasonable hope of effectual defence, should at 
 times have found it impossible to repress the tide of indig- 
 nant feeling and bitter words. 
 
 The ladies took the first opportunity of retiring from 
 the dining-room and leaving the gentlemen to what natur- 
 ally resolved itself into an informal council of war. Pos- 
 sibilities and plans of operation were discussed with much 
 eagerness ; — Colonel McLeod and Major Meredith rous- 
 ing up at the defiant prospect of real action, as an old war- 
 horse does at the sound of the bugle-call. Meantime 
 Mrs. McLeod sat in the drawing-room with Flora, her 
 rich, stiff damask disposed in graceful folds, on which her 
 eye complacently rested while, with languid loquacity, she 
 lamented the situation to Dinah, who had come up eager 
 to hear what the sudden news hid been. Marjorie and 
 Lilias wandered up and down ii. the bright moonlight 
 without, talking occasionally in under tones, but, for the 
 
TO ARMS. 
 
 I6l 
 
 most part, thinking silently of possibilities that had long 
 dimly floated before their minds, but now seemed to 
 menace, so much more closely and definitely, the welfare 
 of their nearest and dearest. Marjorie's thoughts were 
 too much engrossed with her hero, on whom lay the 
 load of responsibihty, — the necessity for instant action, — to 
 think much of the mere personal aspects of the impending 
 conflict. But Lilias was thinking of her father, who, she 
 knew, would rush foremost into the danger with all the 
 English heartiness and fearlessness of his nature ; and of 
 Ernest, with enemies, as it s-^emed, on all sides of him, and 
 before him the serious chances of war, in the faithful dis- 
 charge of the duties to which he would assuredly be called, 
 and from which, she knew, and was glad to know, he 
 would not shrink. 
 
 They went into the drawing-room at last ; and to divert 
 Mrs. McLeod from the gloomy forebodings in which it 
 seemed to give her a sort of pleasure to indulge, Marjorie 
 sat down to the small, old-fashioned piano, a rare luxury 
 in Canada in those days, and sang one of her father's 
 favourite Jacobite songs, vibrating with the thrill of 
 national enthusiasm and devotion, yet with the sadness of 
 a hopeless cause underlying its plaintive chords. The 
 music seemed to act as an attracting force, for in a short 
 time the gentlemen entered the room, and Col. McLeod, 
 who was very proud of his daughter's voice and of the 
 enthusiasm and feeling with which she sang, charged 
 
l62 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 .; 
 
 Marjorie to sing some of her best songs for the General, 
 who had not long to stay, and wanted some music before 
 he left. General Brock himself courteously and heartily 
 endorsed the request, and took his station beside the piano, 
 looking down with kindly admiration on the expressive 
 face of the young singer, changing with the changing emo- 
 tions of her music, until the music itself seemed to trans- 
 port him into a different sphere, almost beyond the con- 
 sciousness of what was passing around him. He asked for 
 the " Flowers of the Forest," one of his favourites. Mar- 
 jorie would rather not have sung that to-night ; — it touched 
 too painfully chords that were just then most tensely 
 strung. But she would have made a much greater sacri- 
 fice of feeling to gratify any wish that General Brock might 
 have expressed, so she sang it steadily through, though 
 her voice would waver a little on the words — 
 
 " Dule and wae for the order sent our lads to the border," 
 
 and it was with a more plaintive sadness than usual that 
 she brought out the pathetic refrain — 
 
 " For the Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away 1 ' 
 
 Scarcely allowing herself a pause for thanks, however, she 
 passed quickly to another song, not so old or so hack- 
 neyed then as it is now, in which her voice rang out with 
 the martial ardour worthy of a daughter of the McLeods, 
 in the immortal strain, — 
 
 " Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled, 
 Scots wham Bruce has aften led, 
 Welcome to your gory bed — 
 
 Or to Victory ! " 
 
tOjARMS. 163 
 
 Every one in the room felt the electric influence of the 
 words and the music, thrilling at any time, but doubly so 
 in the peculiar circumstances of the moment ; and when 
 the last resolute notes of the closing line — 
 
 "Let us do or die !"— 
 
 sank into silence, a perfect storm of applause rewarded the 
 fair singer, of which General Brock's bright beaming smile 
 of approval was of course the most appreciated token. 
 
 " And now," said he gentl> " as I shall have to go 
 almost immediately, may I beg for my favourite song as 
 the last,—" The Land 0' the Leal ? " 
 
 It is a remarkable instance of the varying adaptability 
 of the same musical notes, that the air of " Scots wha 
 hae," so expressive of ardent, resolute courage and devo- 
 tion, — when sung more slowly and differently accentuated, 
 expresses so beautifully the longings of a soul — done with 
 this world and at rest concerning its future — for the more 
 lasting joys and unbroken peace of the " Land o' the Leal." 
 The exquisite song, sung by Marjorie in subdued tones, 
 but with distinct utterance and true feeling, seemed, after 
 the other, like the peace of heaven poured upon the 
 troubled waters of earth. General Brock seemed to feel 
 it so, as he stood by with folded arms, his calm eye fixed 
 in its gaze, as if piercing through the shifting clouds of 
 "things seen and temporal" to the far blue, unchanging, 
 eternal heaven beyond. 
 
 When the song was finished he expressed his thanks, 
 
 ifi 
 
 
 'I 
 
 n 
 
;, 
 
 i! 
 
 -«v • 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 and, accompanied by the members of his staff who were 
 pireseht, took his leave. Captain Percival and the others, 
 who w'er'e bound for Fort George, quickly followed in his 
 guite ; Major Meredith, Colonel McLcod and Colonel 
 Talbot promising to ride over to Newark early next day. 
 Marjorie waited only till they were gone, and then made 
 a hasty escape to her own room, where Lilias found her 
 weeping bitterly. The strain of excited feeling of the last 
 hour or two, and of singing those songs in her painfully 
 ^ought-up mood, as well as the burden of a strange pre- 
 sentiment that was weighing on her spirit, found their 
 rtatural reaction now. Lilias was sorely inclined to join 
 her ; but restrained herself, and soothed her friend's agita- 
 tion with words of comfort that she was far from feeling 
 herself ; and in a short time Marjorie, by one of her rapid 
 changes of feeling, had become by far the more cheerful 
 bf the twb. It was long, that night, before either of the 
 girls slept, and when they did at last fall into a broken 
 sluitiber, it was to meet troubled dreams, bearing some 
 gfrotesque resemblance to the ideas that had been haunt- 
 ing their waking thoughts. 
 
 Dunlathmon was not the only place to which that sud- 
 den news brought trouble and consternation. As the tid- 
 ings of the declaration of war spread rapidly through the 
 Province, it fell on the hearts of the colonists like a thun- 
 d*" rbolt, startling them out of the even tenor of their way, 
 and turning all their ideas, feelings and energies into a 
 new and absorbing channel. 
 
TO ARMS. \$j^ 
 
 When on the 12th of July, 1812, General Hull invade4 
 Canadian territory, he issued a bombastic proclamation, 
 in which, after alluding to the " tyranny and injustice of 
 Great Britain," and expatiating upon the invaluable bless- 
 ings of civil, political and religious liberty which he 
 offered to the Canadians, he promised them, — should they 
 make no resistance, — to " emancipate them from tyranny 
 and oppression, and restore them to the dignified statioi;i 
 of freemen."* He declared, however, that if resistance 
 were offered, and if Indians were allowed to participate 
 in that resistance, no quarter would be given, but the war 
 would become a war of extermination. He then placed 
 an alternative before them, in the following terms : — " The 
 United States offer you peace, liberty and security. You?' 
 choice lies between these and war, slavery and destruc- 
 tion." And they who then rejected the first of these 
 alternatives knew well that a most serious crisis was im- 
 pending, — that they were entering on a contest whic^i 
 might be long, bloody and destructive, and whose success 
 was, at best, extremely doubtful. 
 
 It was a tremendous bribe that they were offered — 
 peace, comfort, security, undisturbed possession of all that 
 
 * (Note.)— It should not be forgotten that the war was forced on mainly 
 by the slave-holdings States, the vote in Congress being seventy-nine to forty- 
 nine, — the advocates of the war being chiefly from the Souifunt atid IVet- 
 tern States, while its opponents were from the North and East. This cir- 
 cumstance should have been remembered in Britain during the late American 
 war. 
 
 .Mi 
 
 f ri 
 
 ' 'If r 
 
 fit 
 
 
': r 
 
 ' I 
 
 i66 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 made up their outward life, the price being only the sacri- 
 fice of their conscientious convictions of honour, loyalty 
 and duty. The issue was not, as we see it, clear and 
 decided, but doubtful and dark. The present was full of 
 depression and anxiety, — the future uncertain, trembling 
 in the balance, and full of terrible possibilities. They had 
 a powerful enemy at their doors, while the friend to whom 
 they looked for succour was herself embarrassed by other 
 contests, and separated from them by thousands of miles 
 of stormy ocean, in days when steam ocean-navigation was 
 as yet a Utopian dream. Among them was a compara- 
 tive handful of soldiers to lead their defence, while a for- 
 midable army was ready to close around them, without, as 
 it seemed, any reasonable hope of adequate resistance. 
 On the one hand was the promise of tranquil, undisturbed 
 possession of their hardly-won homes and their laboriously 
 tilled fields, if they should remain passive : on the other, 
 the too certain prospect of ruinous warfare, devastation 
 carnage, deadly peril, — of all that makes an invasion ter- 
 rible, should they firmly take their stand for what they 
 believed the right ! They might have been excused for 
 wavering; but they did not waver. " Fiat just i Ha ruat 
 ccelum" was their motto. May the Canada of the future 
 prove a worthy descendant of this young Canada of the 
 past ! 
 
 From the first, with a very few insignificant exceptions, 
 there was no uncertain sound in the loyalty of the people. 
 
 ill 
 
TO ARMS. 
 
 167 
 
 the sacri- 
 ur, loyalty 
 clear and 
 kvas full of 
 trembling 
 They had 
 d to whom 
 d by other 
 Is of miles 
 gation was 
 L compara- 
 rhile a for- 
 without, as 
 resistance, 
 ndisturbed 
 aboriously 
 the other, 
 evastation 
 vasion ter- 
 what they 
 xcused for 
 ^titia ruat 
 the future 
 ada of the 
 
 exceptions, 
 he people. 
 
 In town, village, and sparsely populated townships, the 
 staunch Canadians rose as one man, determined, at all 
 hazards, to stand by the old flag, and go forth, under that 
 venerated ensign, to fight to the death for king, country and 
 home. From all quarters the militia offered their immediate 
 services, and bands of willing volunteers poured into York, 
 Newark, Kingston, — all the known places of rendezvous, — 
 eager to bear arms, and disappointed when, simply because 
 there were no weapons with which to furnish them, 
 many had to return to a forced inaction. General Brock 
 had speedi'y issued all the arms at his disposal, which, 
 indeed, were barely "sufficient to arm the militia required 
 to guard the frontier." Some, indeed, remedied this lack 
 by their own ingenuity, and if ploughshares were not 
 literally turned into swords, and prunning-hooks into 
 spears, something very like it took place in the con- 
 version of the peaceful implements of husbandry into 
 weapons of destruction. But arms were not the only 
 thing sorely needed. Many of the poor brave colonists 
 who left their fields and mustered to the defence, were 
 sadly destitute of clothing, and many were absolutely 
 without shoes, which were at that time very scarce and 
 difficult to procure. In such circumstances, the privations 
 they endured in necessary drilling, — the exposure and 
 fatigue of military duty, — added an additional element of 
 heroism to the cheerfully rendered service of the Cana- 
 dism volunteers. 
 
 f1 
 
 If 
 
 t 
 1 
 
 ' ! 
 
 1-' 
 
 -f 
 
 '\, 
 

 t6d 
 
 rOR KINO AND COUNTRY. 
 
 Major Meredith and Lilias had returned to Oakridge 
 immediately after the sudden, though not unlooked-for 
 tidings had been received at Uunlathmon ; — the former to 
 collect and organise his band of volunteers, that he might 
 take them to Newark to be ready for whatever emergency 
 might present itself. Lilias would not remain behind 
 him, though strongly urged to do so. She clung more 
 than ever to her father, now that he was really going into 
 danger, and could not bear the thought of being separated 
 from him unnecessarily, even for an hour. In her secret 
 heart she regretted that she should not have another oppor- 
 tunity of seeing Ernest, that she might find out whether 
 he knew of the existence of the rumours of which Captain 
 Percival had spoken, and might ascertain how they had 
 arisen, and what means could be taken for her friend's 
 vindication from a slander that caused her no little pain. 
 But this could not be helped ; so, the next morning but 
 one after the excursion to the Falls, having exchanged an 
 affectionate farewell with Marjorie, who was absorbed, 
 heart and soul, in the military preparations going on 
 around her, and having received from her a promise that 
 she would soon come to stay with her at The Elms during 
 Major Meredith's absence, Lilias and her father set out 
 on their long ride homeward. They reached Oakridge 
 about dusk, startling old Nannie by their unexpected arri- 
 val, and filling her with consternation at the news they 
 had to tell, which had not yet reached secluded Oakridge. 
 
TO ARMS. 
 
 i69 
 
 )akridge 
 oked-for 
 ormer to 
 ic might 
 lergcncy 
 L behind 
 ng more 
 oing into 
 lepaiated 
 ler secret 
 er oppor- 
 whether 
 I Captain 
 they had 
 r friend's 
 ttle pain, 
 ning but 
 anged an 
 ibsorbed, 
 going on 
 mise that 
 IS during 
 r set out 
 Oakridge 
 cted arri- 
 ews they 
 :)akridge. 
 
 There, as elsewhere, the tide of excited feeling ran in 
 two different channels ; that of the eager, ardent enthu- 
 siasm of the men, burning to press forward and repel the 
 unscrupulous invader ; and the sorrow, anxiety and fore- 
 boding care of the women, to whom the tidings came 
 almost as a death-knell ; who saw the peaceful tran- 
 quillity of their happy homes broken up — it might be for 
 ever ; and those dearest to them preparing to go forth to 
 imminent peril, to probable wounds, and to possibilties 
 beyond these which their minds could not ignore, though 
 their hearts shrank from contemplating them. Yet few 
 were the women who would have sought immunity from 
 this load of anxiety by counselling husband or son or 
 brother to purchase peace by disloyal compromise ; no, 
 not even sudi gentle Quakeresses as Patience Thurstane. 
 Their sacrifice for King and Country was a heavy one, 
 but they made it unflinchingly ; — ready, moreover, to 
 make up so far as they could by the hard labour of their 
 own hands, for the unavoidable absence of the strong arms 
 which should have gathered in the crops in the busy days 
 of harvest. But many a bronzed yeoman, as he shoul- 
 dered his hunting rifle, or, perhaps, a rusty old firelock 
 that had descended to him as an old heirloom from some 
 long dead ancestor, and as, after the clinging farewells of 
 wife and children, he turned his back on his rude but 
 comfortable homestead, — on the familiar fields he had 
 cleared and tilled, and the animals he had cared for, with 
 
170 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 ' V 
 
 their patient, well-known faces looking wistfully at him as 
 he passed, felt a strange choking in his throat, and the 
 unaccustomed tear dimming the eyes that again and 
 again turned to take a farewell look at the home which, he 
 knew, he might never see again. 
 
 General Brock, in the meantime, was hard at work, 
 physically and mentally, labouring to provide for the pro- 
 tection of the long exposed frontier under his command, — 
 a task by no means easy with a water-frontier of 1,300 
 miles in the Upper Province alone, and little more than 
 the sz ne number Oi* regular soldiers, exclusive of garri- 
 sons. It was clear enough that, without the substantial 
 and ready aid of Canadian volunteers, the Brit'sh force 
 could not long have maintained the unequal contest ; and 
 without the rallying point of its brave, resoKite hopeful, 
 foreseeing and prompt General and President, the country 
 itself might soon have sunk into a demoralising despon- 
 dency. But General Brock foresaw and provided for 
 every exigency, gave confidence to the anxious and some- 
 times drooping spirits of the people, and encouraged and 
 cheered them on to their staunch and effectual defence. 
 
 On the I2th of July, as has been said, General Hull's 
 expedition, which had been for some time gathering in 
 Michigan, crossed the frontier at Detroit, believing that 
 they were advancing to the easy conquest of the coveted 
 prize. His proclamation has already been described, threat- 
 ening the people with all the horrors and calamities of 
 
TO ARMS. 
 
 171 
 
 war, should they refuse the " peace, liberty, and security " 
 which he offered them. To this General Brock replied in 
 the dignified and manly tone becoming a British comman- 
 der, that :— " The Crown of England would defend and 
 avenge all its subjects, whether red or white ; that 
 Canada knew her duty to herself and to her Sovereign, 
 and was neither to be bullied nor cajoled into a departure 
 from it/' 
 
 On the 27th of July, General Brock convened, at Y'^rk, 
 an extra Session of the Legislature of Upper Canada. At 
 first, considerable despondency was perceptible in the 
 counsels and speeches of those who had met for delibera- 
 tion at so momentous a crisis ; but the energy and ascen- 
 dency of Brock's animating genius, conjoined with the 
 spontaneous outburst of loyalty and patriotism among the 
 people, rallied the spirits and the courage even of those 
 who took the gloomiest view of the situation. His address 
 to the people sounded no uncertain note. *• We are 
 engaged," — he said, " in an awful and eventful contest. 
 By unanimity in our councils, and by vigour in our opera- 
 tions, we may teach the country this lesson, that a country 
 defended by freemen, enthusiastically devoted to the 
 cause of their King and Constitution, can never be coh- 
 quered." And the strain was repeated and prolonged by 
 the address sent fwrth to the people by the Legislative 
 Assembly, They expressed their joy at observing that 
 "the spirit of loyalty has burst forth i:. all its ancient 
 
 e '•«' 
 
lif 
 ill 
 
 BI' 
 
 ■■ I 
 
 m 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 splendour," — and their natural indignation against the 
 invaders of a peaceful country ; and they concluded with 
 the noble words, expressive of ::he calm and deliberate 
 resolve of those who, standing entirely on the defensive, 
 are yet determined to resist to the death an unmitigated 
 wrong, and to defend their country and their liberty : — 
 " Persevere as you have begun, in your strict obedience to 
 the laws and your attention to military discipline ; deem 
 no sacrifice too costly which secures the enjoyment of 
 our happy constitution ; follow, with your countrymen in 
 Britain, the paths of virtue, and, like them, you shall 
 triumph over all your unprincipled foes." 
 
 Meantime, the militia mustered on the frontier were 
 drilling and practising with what patience they might 
 as they thought of their neglected fields. General Brock 
 was moving energetically backward and forward between 
 the frontier fo xe at Fort George and the Legislature 
 at York, presiding at deliberations, writing despatches to 
 Quebec, sending detachments to outposts, negotiating 
 with Indians — among whom he feared fickleness and dis- 
 loyalty from the influence of American emissaries, — sooth- 
 ing the impatience ot the rural militiamen, and organising 
 with unflagging zeal. He refrained from making any 
 active demonstration on the river, because, as lie wrote, — 
 " Fort Niagara can be demolished, when found necessary, 
 in half an hour ;" but — " lo enable the militia to acquire 
 some degree of discipline, without interruption, is of far 
 greater consequence than such a conquest." 
 
to ARMS. 
 
 »73 
 
 gainst the 
 ;luded with 
 deliberate 
 : defensive, 
 inmitigated 
 r hberty :— 
 bedience to 
 iline ; deem 
 ijoyment of 
 intrymen in 
 I, you shall 
 
 rentier were 
 they might 
 neral Brock 
 ird between 
 
 Legislature 
 espatches to 
 
 negotiating 
 less and dis- 
 ries, — sooth- 
 d organising 
 making .my 
 
 lie wrote, — 
 d necessary, 
 ia to acquire 
 ion, is of far 
 
 In heartfelt recognition of dependence on the Disposer 
 of all events, — in an age when such public recognition was 
 rarer than it happily is now, — General Brock early 
 appointed a day for fasting and prayer for the success of 
 the country's defence from the horrors of successful inva- 
 sion, in which the people, of all cree is and classes, heartily 
 joined. And, having thus taken i\ot the least effectual 
 means of success, of giving calmness and confidence to 
 the excited people, and inspiring them v'ith the spirit of 
 trustful courage which is the best preparation for any ',ime 
 of trial, he took care also not to neglect any of the more 
 outward and tangible means of defence which the circum- 
 stance ! ^ admit, and which his active mind and judi- 
 cious i. i- ; '/-it could devise. 
 
 Long before the end of July, hostilities had actually 
 commenced in the far west. At Tarortee and Macinaw, 
 British pluck and steadfastness were resisting the progress 
 of the invader among the western marshes, and on the 
 shores of Lako Huron. A detachment of Captain Perci- 
 val's regiment, the 41st, had been sent to Amherstburg 
 or Fort Maiden, by General Brock's foresight, so early 
 as May, but the General was reduced " almost to despair " 
 wher^ on the 2cth of July, he received information 
 that Hull had been, since the 12th, in possession of the 
 village of Sandwich. Colorcl Proctor, of the 41st, was 
 accordingly instantly despatched thither to ascertain 
 accurately the state of affairs, and fresh detachments of 
 
174 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 n I 
 
 troops and militia were sent to the same quarter. Pcrcival 
 would gladly have gone with that portion of his regiment 
 which was already on the scene of action. But, both on 
 account of his comparative inexperience of the country, 
 and of the good service which his thorough theoretical 
 mastery of his profession, and his experience at the home 
 depot, enabled him to render in organizing and disciplin- 
 ing the militia force. General Brock preferred his remaining 
 for the present at Fort George. 
 
 Not a few of the settlers along the shore of the Niagara, 
 in alarm at the threatening demonstrations of the Amer- 
 icans opposite, removed their families and most of their 
 household goods to some safer retreat in the interior. 
 Colonel McLeod did not think it necessary, in the present 
 state of affairs, to send dway his family — a step, indeed, 
 which Marjorie, for one, would have vehemently opposed. 
 But he yielded to his wife's anxiety so far as to allow all 
 the plate and valuables of the family to be packed up and 
 sent to Fort George for safety, to be transmitted thence to 
 Quebec, should need arise. All his horses, except one for 
 farm-work — even Marjorie's pet, Oscar — had been placed 
 at the disposal of the General and promoted to military 
 service; for Colonel McLeod w^s not the man to keep 
 back anything — even his own sons — from his country's 
 need. And Marjorie almost rejoiced in the pang it had 
 cost her to part even temporarily with Oscar, because it 
 gave her the right to feel that she, too, had already sacri- 
 ficed something for King and Country. 
 
TO ARMS. 
 
 175 
 
 ir. Percival 
 lis regiment 
 But, both on 
 the country, 
 ti theoretical 
 at the home 
 ind discipUn- 
 iiis remaining 
 
 "the Niagara, 
 of the Amer- 
 most of their 
 the interior, 
 in the present 
 step, indeed, 
 mtly opposed. 
 IS to allow all 
 lacked up and 
 tted thence to 
 except one for 
 d been placed 
 ed to military 
 man to keep 
 his country's 
 le pang it had 
 ar, because it 
 already sacri- 
 
 In the meanwhile Lilias was undergoing one of those 
 seasons of silent, repressed anxiety which soon blanch a 
 girl's cheek and leave signs of their presence in the dark 
 circles under the eyes, that often indicate inward pain. 
 Her father found it necessary to be almost constantly at 
 Newark with his volunteers, only getting home occasion- 
 ally for a flying visit of a few hours. Exciting rumours 
 were always afloat through the country, announcing some 
 new and threatening move of the enemy, and, though 
 generally unfounded, they had none the less, for the time, 
 a painfully disturbing effect ; the more so that, from the 
 demonstrations of the American troops, it was generally 
 believed that an attack on the Niagara frontier might be 
 at any moment expected. If so, Lilias knew well that 
 both her father and Ernest would probably be engaged in 
 the conflict that must follow; and she was haunted by the 
 thought that at any time she might hear that one or both 
 had been wounded — or worse ! 
 
 Old Nannie was so excited about the state of affairs, 
 and so prone to gloomy anticipations, that Lilias tried, as 
 far as it was possible, to keep her from hearing each new 
 rumour as it arose, and thus could not even give herself 
 the relief of discussing its improbabilities, but was obliged 
 to reason k out as well as she could in her own mind. 
 Now and then, when the weight seemed too oppressive to 
 bear any longer unshared, she would mount her grey pony 
 and ride over to *hc Lake Farm, or would summon Bruno 
 
 m 
 
M 
 
 FOR KING AI^D COUNTRY. 
 
 to attend her in a walk to Aunt Judy's cottage ; and 
 always returned cheered and strengthened by Patience 
 Thurstane's sweet trustful resignation, or by the bright 
 hopeful faith of the old negress. Mrs. Thurstane's boys 
 were all gone to Newark except the youngest, and Jacob 
 held himself in readiness to go to the front at once if he 
 were needed. But still she quietly went about all her 
 household avocations ; — still were her kitchen and dairy 
 immaculately clear, as of old ; — still did she spin and knit 
 on as steadily as ever, though the spectacles that aided the 
 faihng sight had to be wiped a good deal oftener than was 
 their wont. " For," as she said to ' Miss Lilias," " there's 
 no good in taking on to fight against a trial ! That only 
 makes it the harder to bear. Man can't go any farther 
 than the Lord lets him ; and it ought to keep us from 
 frettin' overmuch to think that we ourselves, as well as 
 the folks we love and would give our lives for, are all in 
 the hands of One that loves them and us best of all!" 
 
 And Aunt Judy would comfort her ** chile," as she called 
 her, by telling her all the stories she could remember — 
 and they were not a few — of providential deliverances, 
 merciful interpositions in hours when, humanly speaking, 
 danger seemed imminent. "An' anywavs, chile," she 
 would conclude, "I have been young and now am old, 
 and I'se sartin', now, what I didn't jes' use lo b'lieve when 
 I was young and silly, dat de Lord can do a. great si^t 
 better for us dan we could do for ourselves, an' dat de 
 
TO ARMS. 
 
 177 
 
 tage ; and 
 y Patience 
 the bright 
 tane's boys 
 and Jacob 
 once if he 
 out all her 
 1 and dairy 
 sin and knit 
 lat aided the 
 ler than was 
 as,' "there's 
 That only 
 D any farther 
 eep us from 
 ;, as well as 
 'or, are all in 
 of all!" 
 as she called 
 remember — 
 deliverances, 
 ily speaking, 
 chile," she 
 low am old, 
 b'lieve when 
 great si^ht 
 5. an' dat de 
 
 best ting we can do is jes' to keep still an' see what He's 
 goin' to do. An' sure I am dat if we do. He won't neber 
 disappoint us, but somehow or oder we shall see de good- 
 ness of de Lord in de land of de livin'. For He's all love, 
 honey, dat I'se sure of ; an' He jes' wants to do de berry 
 best for us dat can possibly be done ! " 
 
 It was a great comfort to Lilias when Marjorie, at 
 considerable sacrifice to her own feelings in leaving just 
 then the vicinity of Fort George, redeemed her promise of 
 coming to stay a few days with her. Not usually a great 
 t.^.Ker, she grew positively loquacious on the first evening 
 of Marjorie's visit, in the reaction of having some one to 
 whom she ccald ^peak freely of everything that lay on her 
 mind ; — o.i every subject, that is, except one. She had 
 never confided, even to Marjorie, Captain Percival's 
 remark about Ernest, which, at the time it was made, 
 Marjorie did not happen to hear. But the two girls had 
 plenty of wholesome occupation to keep them from morbid 
 and profitless brooding. The absence of Major Meredith 
 and all his able-bodied men, leaving only the boy Sambo — 
 to his grandmother's great content, — to attend to the farm- 
 work, made, of necessity, an unusual amount of labour 
 fall upon the female members of the household. Much 
 of Sambo's usual work had to be done by the one hand- 
 maid under old Nannie, whose work therefore fell chiefly 
 on Lilias. Moreover, there was the hay -harvest to be got 
 
 in, — delayed already beyond the usual time, — and Lilias 
 
 J3 
 
 -■vm 
 
 i 
 
 
 
178 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 in I 
 
 was determined that, so far as she could help it, her 
 father's farming affairs should not suffer through his 
 necessary absence. So, as Sambo by degrees managed 
 to get the hay cut, aided by Jacob Thurstane, who kindly 
 insisted on sparing a day for this purpose from his own 
 great press of work, Marjorie and Lilias spent the early 
 mornings, before the sun's heat grew too fierce, in turning 
 over the hay and spreading it out, so that all of it might 
 be fully exposed to the heat of the sun. Then, after it was 
 sufficiently dry, they piled it up with Sambo's help into 
 haycocks, in the construction and symmetry of which 
 they took great pride. They found the work rather more 
 tiring than they had anticipated from their former recol- 
 lections of playing at haymaking ; but it was wholesome 
 and invigorating, driving away painful thoughts, at least 
 for the time. When they were hard at work tossing 
 or spreading out the hay, — the freshness of the summer 
 morning around them and the pure morning sky above 
 them, — it was impossible for the natural buoyancy of 
 youth not to assert itself even in Lilias' burdened heart ; 
 and many a hearty laugh— generally over some amusing 
 sally of Marjorie's — did they have while at their unwonted 
 labours. If they did :;ome in generally, tired out, when 
 the forenoon grew hot, a siesta rested and refreshed 
 them ; and if, to Nannie's grief, Lilias' delicate com- 
 plexion grew more sunburnt than it had ever been in her 
 life before, it is certain that the balance of good effects, on 
 
 ;!l 
 
[p it, her 
 3ugh his 
 managed 
 ^ho kindly 
 m his own 
 t the early 
 in turning 
 ,f it might 
 ifter it was 
 i help into 
 r of which 
 ather more 
 rmer recol- 
 wholesome 
 Its, at least 
 ork tossing 
 ;he summer 
 sky above 
 juoyancy of 
 ened heart ; 
 me amusing 
 :ir unwonted 
 d out, when 
 id refreshed 
 slicate com- 
 been in her 
 id effects, on 
 
 TO ARMS. 
 
 179 
 
 the whole, preponderated over such trilling and temporary 
 inconveniences. So Major Meredith, on his next hurried 
 visit home, found his hay-crop all ready to be carted into 
 the barn under his own superintendence. The occasion 
 was made as much a festal one as circumstances would 
 permit — Sambo being feted, to his own delight, for the 
 tirst time in his life ; and the girls felt themselves abund- 
 antly rewarded for their labour in the surprise and plea- 
 sure of the worthy Major, who had be<?n inwardly fretting 
 over his hay, and who could b.irdly find words to express 
 his thanks and his praise of the skill and energy of his 
 amateur haymakers. 
 
 But all this lime Lilias could hear nothing definite of 
 Ernest, except merely such general intelligence as she could 
 glean from her father^s occasional mention of having seen 
 him, or the rare messages that came from the Thurstane 
 boys to the Lake Farm. 
 
 
mtm nn^ m n imim 
 
 Kammimmm 
 
 lit 
 
 lii^iir 
 
 i 
 
 i8o 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 AT NEWARK. 
 
 »' ' Down with him ! * cried false Sextus, 
 
 With a smile on his pale face — 
 ' Now yield thee,* cried Lars Porsena — 
 
 ' Now yield thee to our grace.' " 
 
 IT was about this time that Ernest Heathcote, having 
 given his boys their summer vacation, and so, feeUng 
 a little more at leisure than he had done of late, indulged 
 himself one afternoon in a quiet, meditative stroll along 
 the wooded shore of the Niagara, towards Queenston. Such 
 a walk was a rare luxury to him now, since all his spare 
 time, after school hours, had been fully occupied with the 
 drilling, practising, &c., necessary to enable him to keep 
 up with his company. He had been indefatigable in 
 labouring to qualify himself for being an efficient defender 
 of his country, now that a crisis was approaching, and his 
 exertions had done him good in more ways than one. 
 They served all the purpose of gymnastics in strengthening 
 and developing his physical powers by the active exercise 
 which his ardour for study had led him too much to neg- 
 lect ; while, at the same time, the outward activity, the stir 
 and bustle of the time, drew him out of the rather morbid 
 
AT NEWARK. 
 
 idi 
 
 speculations, — the fruitless theorizing and brooding over 
 evils which he had no power to remedy, in which he had 
 been too prone to indulge. Despite his strong and true sense 
 of the evils of war, when the declaration of hostility had 
 become a reality, and Newark was full of rumours of inva- 
 sion, of the stir and pomp of busy military preparation, — 
 of the bustle of constantly arriving volunteers, — he found 
 all his strong sentiments give way before the irresistible 
 excitement of the moment, which developed the latent 
 military enthusiasm inherited from his soldier-father. He 
 was surprised, himself, to feel how his heart thrilled with 
 martial ardour and overpowering emotion when he heard 
 the bugle call to parade, or saw the motley ranks of volun- 
 teers march in, — each man, poorly dressed as he might be, 
 bearing himself with a certain grave steadfastness which 
 seemed to signify his feeling that Canada expected every 
 man to do his duty, and that he was ready to do it. 
 
 Ernest's patriotic zeal was, moreover, quickened by 
 his honest ambition that whatever he did should be 
 done well, and so great already was his proficiency in mil- 
 itary exercises that he had been honoured by the expressed 
 approbation of the officer in command, and had good 
 hopes of soon obtaining a commission. This he desired, 
 chiefly because he knew how it would raise him in the 
 estimation of Major Meredith, if not of Lilias. It need 
 hardly bt said that he was thinking of her, as, having 
 passed the earthern ramparts and cedar palisades of Fort 
 
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l82 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 
 George, half a mile above the village of Newark, he saun- 
 tered slowly along the river bank, enjoyinj^ the cool fresh- 
 ness of the woods, the soft song of the rushing river, and 
 the unwonted rest of a leisurely stroll. He had been won- 
 dering often, during these days of excitement, how Lilias 
 was bearing up under the manifold anxieties of the times. 
 He knew that the excitement and suspense must be very 
 trying to her sensitive nature, apart from any anxiety 
 about him, which he did not take into account. 
 
 But he had other subjects of thought, considerably less 
 pleasant. He was quite aware of the existence of floating 
 rumours about himself, throwing doubts upon his loyalty 
 and truth, if not positively accusing him of the reverse. 
 He could trace these, partially at least, to Bill Davis, who 
 he knew had an old grudge against him. Then, both 
 Davis and Payne had at once conjectured Ernest's inter- 
 ference when the latter found that Rachel, influenced to 
 some extent by the remonstrance of Lilias, had become 
 much more cautious and prudent. This was quite suffi- 
 cient to impel them to do him what harm they could, by 
 throwing out insinuations and starting reports to which 
 Ernest's American parentage gave a certain colouring of 
 vraisemblance. Morover, his invariable moderation in 
 speaking of a country which had strong claims on his 
 regard, — his refusal to join in wholesale denunciations of a 
 people who had, he felt, something to complain of on their 
 iide, — also tended to make his disaffection suspected by 
 
AT NEWARK. 
 
 183 
 
 those who, in the excited feeling of the time, could look at 
 the matter only from their own point of view, and who 
 could find no epithets strong enough to express the indig- 
 nation, and too often the hatred, which the unhappy war 
 had evoked. And being too proud to forestall accusation 
 by explanations, and clear himself from a slander whi^h 
 he felt was so absurd and so unworthy, he could do 
 nothing but silently abide the issue, feeling, meantime, that 
 a tide of hostile feeling was rising against him, and that 
 he was coldly and suspiciously regarded by some who had 
 once been friends. The possibility of Lilias being pained 
 by hearing these rumours had not even occurred to him. 
 Should Major Meredith hear them, he felt sure that he, 
 who knew him so well, would not listen to them for a 
 moment, but would treat them with the same utter incre- 
 dulity as did his cousins, who laughed heartily at the very 
 idea of such a suspicion. Yet still they were in themselves 
 sufficiently annoying to one who was especially sensi- 
 tive to any imputation of what he considered unworthy 
 and ignoble. 
 
 He had nearly reached the limit he had set himself for 
 his walk, when he heard hasty shuffling steps behind him, 
 and presently found himself overtaken by a shabby, Yan- 
 kee-looking man, of unprepossessing exterior, and with a 
 sly, cunning expression, which made Ernest shrink from 
 him with instinctive repugnance, in was the wandering 
 American who had been Captain Percival's fellow-traveller 
 
M 
 
 i ! 
 
 
 1S4 FOU KtNO AttD COUNTRV. 
 
 in the stJEige. The man was, in fact, one of the numerous 
 emissaries who, just before the war, had been sent into 
 Canada to collect information, to sow disaffection among 
 the Indians,' and to seduce, or try to seduce from their 
 allegiance, any dissatisfied Canadians whom they might 
 encounter. 
 
 The stranger, with whom Ernest was in no wise 
 inclined to fraternise even on a solitary walk, pertina- 
 ciously insisted on opening a conversation, and after some 
 opening remarks, expressed in an unmistakeably Yankee 
 intonation, he led the way to his object by claiming 
 Ernest as a fellow-countryman. This honour the latter 
 very coldly declined, by replying that Canada was, to alt 
 intents and purposes, his country. The American, how- 
 ever, nothing daunted, went on slowly, and not very 
 adroitly, feeling his way towards his purpose, which was, 
 as Ernest soon indignantly discovered, to try to induce 
 him to desert to the American army, by the bait of a com- 
 mission and a considerable sum of money. The moment 
 that the man's object became clear to him, Ernest empha- 
 tically declared that he could not even listen to so dis- 
 graceful a proposition. But the other stuck to him with 
 irrepressible pertinacity, referring to the rumours afloat 
 of his doubtful loyalty, to their necessarily injurious effect 
 on his career in Canada, and even threatening, in case of 
 his refusal, to drop a few hints which would very seriously 
 aggravate the present suspicions about him. Ernest 
 
nerous 
 It into 
 among 
 a their 
 might 
 
 wise 
 )ertina- 
 3r some 
 Yankee 
 laiming 
 e latter 
 s, to alt 
 in, how- 
 ot very 
 ich was, 
 ) induce 
 f a corn- 
 moment 
 
 empha- 
 • so dis- 
 ilm with 
 rs afloat 
 us effect 
 
 1 case of 
 seriously 
 
 Ernest 
 
 At MtWARtr> i§i 
 
 knew that this was v^thfA hH p6Mt6t ; but, ii6i! cariAg to 
 prolong a parley which he fefll it humiliating to Mfn that 
 the man should have dared to open, he sternly told him 
 to "do his worst," and with a cold "good aftcmoon,* 
 abruptly turned homcw£trd. The stranger, sMing that 
 any farther attempts were clearly useless, went On hi* way, 
 Jler casting an evil glance after Ernest, with A muttered 
 threat that it would be the " worse for him." 
 
 Ernest's unpleasant rencontres were not yet, however, 
 over for the day. As, in his indignant exdtement, he 
 walked rapidly homeward, he overtook two figures walk- 
 ing slowly before him, in whom, just as he reached them, 
 he recognised Bill Davis and Lieut. Payne. He would 
 have passed with the slightest gesture of recognition, but 
 some words which reached his e£lr just as he came up 
 with them, an^ which seemed to him to relate to his uncto 
 and cousin, made him pause for a moment, involuntarily, 
 and look at the speakers as he was about to pass. The 
 action, slight as it was, was enough for Da\as, who rudely 
 and offensively exclaimed, "Come now, Ernest Heath- 
 cote, we don't want nore of your intermeddling ! Do you 
 hear? You let our aftairs alone or it'll be the worse for 
 you. You've put your finger in the pie quite enough 
 already !" 
 
 "Anything that concerns any member of my uncle's 
 family concerns me ;" replied Ernest, with as much cool- 
 ness as he could command, though inwardly burning with 
 indignation. 
 
FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 "Oh, does it? We'll see about that," returned the 
 other fiercely and with a threatening gesture. "You'd 
 better give your word to let things alone or it will be the 
 worse for you !" He looked significantly downward as he 
 spoke. They were at a point where the river-bank sank 
 abruptly down from the road — a steep precipice with 
 jagged rocks jutting out from the scattered foliage. It 
 would be an ugly place for a scufile, especially with two 
 against one. Both young men were flushed with drink- 
 ing, which accounted for Davis' reckless bravac o, and it 
 was quite possible that Payne, who stood by, with a mali- 
 cious smile on his insipid, beardless face, might join 
 Davis in a personal attack. A scuffle and a push, and 
 nothing more might be known — only a mangled body 
 found long after on the rocks below. The possibility 
 flashed across Ernest during the few moments that he 
 stood there facing the scowling Davis with quiet resolu- 
 tion. It gave him no sensation of fear ; his only consci- 
 ousness was one of indignation and determined resolve to 
 thwart, if possible, their nefarious designs. 
 
 Presently Davis' menacing look subsided a little under 
 the firm gaze of Ernest. Bad as he was, he was hardly 
 villain enough to proceed to such extremities without at 
 least a stronger temptation to do so. Presently he said, 
 with a slight change of tone : 
 
 "Come now, Heathcote, I know what game you're 
 flyin*, and you'd better let our sport alone, or we'll put a 
 spoke in your wheel," 
 
AT NEWARK. 
 
 187 
 
 Tied the 
 
 "You'd 
 11 be the 
 ,rd as he 
 nk sank 
 lice with 
 iage. It 
 with two 
 th drink- 
 o, and it 
 th a mali- 
 light join 
 push, and 
 Tied body 
 Possibility 
 s that he 
 iet resolu- 
 
 y consci- 
 resolve to 
 
 ittle under 
 iras hardly 
 without at 
 y he said, 
 
 ime you're 
 we'll put a 
 
 " I don't understand you," replied Ernest very coldly, 
 anxious to put an end to the conference as soon as pos- 
 sible. 
 
 " Oh, you don't ! Miss Lilias Meredith, then ! I sup- 
 pose you wouldn't mind if she and her father both thought 
 you a sneaking spy, as every one will soon know you for, 
 if we tell all we've seen to-day?" and he indicated with his 
 hand the direction in which the American had disappeared. 
 
 Ernest had flushed crimson and then g^own pale at 
 the insulting words, combined with the allusion to Lilias. 
 But he forced himself to reply quietly : " You know as 
 well as I do that there are no grounds for such an accusa- 
 tion. As for what you've seen, you are at liberty to tell 
 it. A man is not responsible for being accosted by a 
 scoundrel." 
 
 "Oh, you take that tack, do you? Well, will you say 
 'Confound the rascally Yankees.?'" — returned Davis, with 
 an aggravating leer. Payne, still looking on with a con- 
 temptuous smile that showed all his white teeth, added in 
 a patronizing drawl : 
 
 " Do, my good fellow, and we shall be sure you're all 
 right." 
 
 " I'm not in the habit of abusing absent people unne- 
 ccsuarily," Ernest answered haughtily ; " when the time 
 comes for action my loyalty will be sufficiently proved." 
 
 " You won't, then ?" retorted Davis, in a bullying tone. 
 
 " I will not," said Ernest unflinchingly, aware that his 
 
M 
 
 fOK lttl*0 ANb CC»UNTftV. 
 
 relusal would be perverted to his injury, yet disdaining to 
 qualify it by any explanation. 
 
 ** Well, then, look here," said Davis, in the same tone ; 
 "just so sure as you poke yourself into any affairs of ours 
 again, just so sure you'll find we're one too many for you ! 
 You won't enjoy being drummed out of your company as 
 a traitor and a spy !" 
 
 "If that is all you have to say to me, I will bid you 
 good afternoon," replied Ernest, who felt that his self- 
 command was fast leaving him, and did not wish to de- 
 grade himself by bandying abuse with a fellow like Davis ; 
 and, passing on, he quickened his pace, as if he could 
 thereby walk down the indignant agitation which, in spite 
 of himself, the unprovoked abuse he had met with had 
 excited. "It isn't worth one's while to be angry with a 
 fellow like that," — hr said to himself philosophically, but 
 has philosophy was hardly sufficient to calm the inward 
 and painful commotion. The allusion to Lihas, touching 
 so rudely on a subject on which he hardly dared to let his 
 own thoughts dwell openly, had touched him to the quick, 
 and he was aware that, in such a season of excitement, 
 even the idle slanders of scoundrels like Davis and Payne 
 would be quite sufficient to do him real harm. But he 
 trusted, as most honest and inexperienced hearts do gene- 
 rally trust, in the certain prevalence of the right cause, 
 and he would not permit himself to indulge any fear as to 
 consequences. All the same, and come what might, he 
 
 ..-..-u-*L^^.-_^_. 
 
AT NEWARK. 
 
 *«9 
 
 iaining to 
 
 ame tone ; 
 irs of ours 
 ly for you ! 
 >mpany as 
 
 ill bid you 
 at his self- 
 wish to de- 
 like Davis ; 
 if he could 
 ich, in spite 
 et with had 
 igry with a 
 jhically, but 
 the inward 
 as, touching 
 red to let his 
 to the quick, 
 excitement, 
 s and Payne 
 rm. But he 
 arts do gene- 
 right cause, 
 iny fear as to 
 lat might, he 
 
 would at all hazards do everything in his power to protect 
 his fair young cousin from the machinations of these 
 villains. As he walked along, the thought flashed across 
 him that his two rencontres might not have been so un- 
 connected with each other as they first seemed. The 
 American had overtaken him from the same direction in 
 which the other two had been walking. Might not the 
 blundering attempt of the former have been made at the 
 instigation of Davis, in order to give a colour to his accu- 
 sation of treachery ? If so, he would be sure to use the 
 encounter to the best advantage. Well, it was of no use 
 to speculate ! He could only go quietly on with his 
 duties, and await the result that time might develop. 
 
 It was not long before he found out that the threats 
 against himself were by no means meaningless bluster. 
 One of the trustees of the school he taught had a son who 
 frequented the society of Payne, Davis, and their set. 
 Him these worthies took care to ply with reports, insinu- 
 ations, and direct accusations of Ernest Heathcote, and 
 their work bore fruit in a note which Ernest, in the course 
 of a few days, received from his principal trustee, noti- 
 fying him that his services would not be required in the 
 school after the holidays. It was an abruptness of dis- 
 missal hardly in accordance with the tenor of his engage- 
 ment, to say nothing of the discourtesy and ungraciousness 
 of so treating a teacher who had faithfully discharged his 
 duties for son^ewhat more than two years ; but Ernest 
 
190 
 
 I^OR KINO AND COUNTftV. 
 
 
 liSSi 
 
 could not bring himself to expostulate, and, as no reason 
 was assigned, preferred silently to accept the situation, 
 Mrith all its injustice. The prospect of relief from the 
 drudgery of his school duties would have been in itself a 
 relief had it been otherwise brought about, although at 
 present he did not exactly see what employment would 
 succeed the one which had so abruptly ceased. But other 
 consequences of the enmity he had unintentionally pro- 
 voked were soon to make themselves more painfully felt. 
 
AT OAKRIDOE. 
 
 W 
 
 no reason 
 
 situation, 
 
 from the 
 
 in itself a 
 
 Ithough at 
 
 lent would 
 
 But other 
 
 )nally pro- 
 
 infuUy felt. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 AT OAKRIDGE. 
 
 " Who steals my purse tteais trash, 
 
 But he who filches from me my good name 
 Robs me of that which not enriches him, 
 And makes me poor indeed." 
 
 IT was a warm July evening at Oakridge. Marjorie 
 had gone home, and Li lias, now that she was left 
 alone, was feeling a depression and a lassitude that was 
 the natural reaction after the unusual fatigue and excite- 
 ment of the last few weeks. That afternoon the air felt 
 sultry, betokening, perhaps, an approaching thunderstorm ; 
 and Lilias felt as if she could not bear up against the 
 combination of oppression in the atmosphere without and 
 depression within. The hot still air seemed to stifle her 
 as with a sense of coming ill. She could not compel 
 herself to continue any occupation, so in despair she 
 threw herself on the grass at the foot of a tree and began 
 the " Ancient Mariner" again, for the third or fourth time. 
 But even that failed to hold her attention, and she found 
 her eyes wandering to the motionless leaves above her 
 head, and her thoughts taking the road they had of late 
 taken so many times a day, — the road to Newark. Her 
 
19? 
 
 FOR KUfO AND COVMTRY. 
 
 
 
 I 
 
 father had dropped a hint during his last visit home, 
 which made her fear that he had not only heard some- 
 thing of the rumours to which Captain Percival had 
 alluded, but was also somewhat inclined to believe them. 
 Yet it was not like her father, she thought, to believe evil 
 of a friend without serious cause. Certainly she had very 
 slight foundation for thinking that he did, but love is often 
 preternaturally acute, and goes straight to the mark in 
 spite of itself, when ordinary reasoning lags far behind. 
 And the combination of anxieties, added to her depressed 
 health and spirits, made Lilias long to see or hear from 
 Ernest, with an intensity of longing that she had never 
 been conscious of feeling before, and for which, powerless 
 as she was to help it, she was almost angry with herself. 
 
 She was roused out of a reverie of this kind by the 
 rapid clatter of a horse's hoofs along the road. Looking 
 through the vista formed by the overhanging branches, 
 she could just see her father dismount at the farm gate, 
 mount again and ride up the road that led to the back 
 door, she rushed quickly to the house to meet and 
 welcome him, and order a substantial meal to refresh him 
 after his long ride. Major Meredith seemed, indeed, 
 unusually weary. He was hot and flustered, too, and his 
 sunburnt face had the added redness, which was rather a 
 sign of inward worry than of mere outward exertion. It 
 did not pass away when he had rested for a while, and he 
 S^med in a troubled, silent mood, very unlike the good- 
 
AT OAKRIDCE. 
 
 ^93 
 
 t home, 
 
 d some- 
 
 val had 
 
 ve them. 
 
 lieve evil 
 
 had very 
 
 e is often 
 mark in 
 
 r behind. 
 
 depressed 
 
 hear from 
 
 lad never 
 
 powerless 
 herself. 
 
 nd by the 
 Looking 
 branches, 
 farm gate, 
 the back 
 meet and 
 efresh him 
 d, indeed, 
 )o, and his 
 ,s rather a 
 Lcrtion. It 
 lile, and he 
 the good- 
 
 humoured and talkative one in which he usually came 
 home. He ate little and talked less, not asking even hit 
 usual routine of questions about the farm, the neighbours^ 
 and home affairs generally. Lilias grew more and more 
 uneasy as she wondered what could be the matter. Some- 
 times her father would make a beginning as if about to 
 say something important, and as often stopped short) 
 hesitating and flurried. At last, with a great effort, and 
 without preamble, it came out. 
 
 "Lilias," he said, with an attempt at a determined 
 tone, but with a really unsteady voice, " I wish you for the 
 future to have nothing whatever to say to Ernest Heath - 
 cote." 
 
 Lilias remained perfectly still, but her face, which had 
 grown deadly pale, and her dilated eyes, which inward 
 emotion always made darker, told how the sudden, per- 
 emptory speech had startled her. At last she found 
 voice to say, in a low, half-stifled tone, — 
 
 "Why, father?" 
 
 " I have reasons for not explaining the matter fully," 
 replied he, concealing his own uneasiness under an assump- 
 tion of importance ; " but there are good reasons — only 
 too good reasons." 
 
 But it must have been a very strong cause indeed that 
 could repress the good Major's natural communicative* 
 ness, and he presently went on— 
 
 " The lad has disappointed me, very much disappointed 
 
 13 
 
!i 
 
 II 
 
 194 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 me ! I find there are grave suspicions of his loyalty. He 
 has even been seen in communication with a known 
 Yankee spy." 
 
 " But, father," said Lilias, beginning to recover from 
 the startling effect of the unexpected announcement, " you 
 know how false reports arise in a time like this ! Think 
 how long you have known Ernest. Why not trust him 
 rather than mere rumours ?" 
 
 " It is not mere rumour, Lilias. I do not give such 
 ready heed to rumours ; I had it on good authority. But 
 that isn't all," he added, forgetting his reticent resolves. 
 "He has been speaking, also, in an improper way of— of 
 you ; presuming on all the kindness he has received here, 
 and returning it thus ! I have excellent authority for 
 knowing that your name was talked of in a very unpleas- 
 ant and improper manner between him and such fellows 
 as Bill Davis." 
 
 The blood had rushed impetuously to Lilias' face, and 
 now rushed back by a violent revulsion to her heart, 
 leaving her face colourless. What if this should be true ? 
 Could it be possible ? Then her heart replied at once : — 
 No ! Ernest could not act so unworthily ! 
 
 " But, father," she said at last, almost inaudibly, " I am 
 sure there must be some mistake. I know he could not 
 do so." 
 
 " I never should have thought it," replied the Major, 
 rather bitterly, " but I had it on too good authority— that 
 
AT OAKRIDGE. 
 
 19s 
 
 alty. He 
 a known 
 
 :over from 
 nent, "you 
 ts ! Think 
 t trust him 
 
 give such 
 lority. But 
 nt resolves. 
 
 way of— of 
 ceived here, 
 luthority for 
 ery unpleas- 
 such fellows 
 
 ias' face, and 
 ;o her heart, 
 ould be true ? 
 ed at once :— 
 
 udibly, " I am 
 V he could not 
 
 ed the Major, 
 luthority— that 
 
 of Captain Percival, who is too honourable a man to say 
 anything untrue — and he had it from one who was present. 
 So remember, Lilias, have nothing more to do with him in 
 any way ! I can't have anything to say to a fellow who 
 speaks of my little girl disrespectfully, nor let you have, 
 either ;" and, putting his arm around her, he kissed his 
 daughter, who had to exert all the self-control in her power 
 to keep down the sob that was rising in her throat. 
 
 Her face had flushed again when her father had named 
 Captain Percival as his authority, partly from a feeling of 
 anger at his interference, partly from shame and mortifi- 
 cation that he should have heard anything of the kind, 
 however untrue, about her. But she did not for a moment 
 believe that the thing itself was true, however the report 
 might have arisen. She felt that she knew Ernest too 
 well, that she had too good reasons for implicit confidence 
 . in his honour, his truth, — in the scrupulous care he would 
 exercise where her name was concerned, to entertain for a 
 moment the idea that he could possibly have even alluded 
 to her voluntarily in a conversation with Bill Davis. But 
 it was of no use to reiterate her own disbelief. Her father 
 had evidently been fully impressed with the truth of what 
 he had heard, and she knew how useless it was to try, by 
 reasoning, to remove either an idea or a prejudice when 
 once lodged in his mind. It could be done only by dis- 
 proof, and that for the present was impossible. So she 
 said nothing more, and by a violent effort retained her 
 
 # 
 
^9^ 
 
 FOR kiNG At^D COt)l*TfeV. 
 
 i;ii 
 
 composure until, after a short interval of silence, he* 
 father rose wearily, saying he must go to bed. Lilias 
 bade him her usual affectionate good-night, and lighted 
 his candle. Then she escaped to her room, where her 
 repressed agitation found relief, first in natural tears, and 
 then in laying her burden at the feet of Him who cares 
 for the sorrows of all His children. 
 
 When the traditional "cruel parent" interferes with the 
 course of true love, he is usually such a hard-hearted, un- 
 natural ogre — so dead to all feelings of parental love — so 
 completely under the sway of worldly and sordid motives, 
 that the daughter's course is comparatively simple. It is, 
 to cling at all hazards to the new affection that has taken 
 root in her life, without troubling herself about the fate 
 of the old relationship to which she owes her existence, 
 and whose protection has sheltered her life until now. She 
 is not troubled by any sweet reminiscences of tender 
 affection and loving care, for there have been none, appar- 
 ently, to recall. But when the bond between father and 
 daughter has been that of strong exclusive attachment 
 and reciprocal care ; when it is an old love that arrays 
 itself against the new, with all the tender, old-time asso- 
 ciations ; when it is the very love and care of the father 
 that prompts the interference, — for the difference is as 
 truly one of point of view as was that between the knights 
 of old, and the shield is as truly brazen to the father as it 
 is silver to the daughter, — then the case is very different. 
 
AT OAKRIDGE. 
 
 197 
 
 ice, lief 
 Lilias 
 lighted 
 lere her 
 lars, and 
 ho cares 
 
 ; with the 
 irted, un- 
 love — so 
 motives, 
 le. It is, 
 lias taken 
 the fate 
 existence, 
 \ow. She 
 of tender 
 le, appar- 
 ather and 
 :tachment 
 at arrays 
 ime asso- 
 :he father 
 ince is as 
 le knights 
 Lther as it 
 different. 
 
 and the struggle in the daughter's heart much more com- 
 plicated. 
 
 And Lilias' alw-.^s deep affection for her father had 
 been of late deepened and intensified by the thought of his 
 possible, nay probable exposure to danger. In the dreams 
 of surprises and sanguinary conflicts which had lately been 
 troubling her slumbers, she had more than once seen the 
 grey head that was so dear to her, first leading the way 
 with British pluck into the thickest of the fight, then laid 
 low in the dust, stained with blood. Such ideas, which 
 would not be shut out, made her heart more than usually 
 tender towards her father,— made her anxious to save 
 him every unnecessary trouble and worry ; and now, when 
 he had been so troubled by hearing that her name had been 
 disrespectfully used by one who certainly owed him grati- 
 tude for much past kindness, Lilias felt that she must not 
 argue the matter farther, but must submit quietly for the 
 present, and wait till time should bring to light Ernest's 
 innocence, — for innocent she was certain he was. 
 
 Major Meredith had his own painful thoughts about 
 the matter, too ; and an additional source of uneasiness, 
 which, for a wonder, was hidden in his own breast. The 
 conversation with Percival, in which Ernest had thus been 
 maligned — unconsciously maligned certainly, for Percival 
 had persuaded himself that what he wished to believe 
 was true — had arisen from some hints in which the atter 
 had led Major Meredith to infer his own admiration and 
 
198 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 ■m 
 
 regard for Lilias, an inference which was thoroughly 
 in accordance with the Major's own wishes. But Percival 
 had further hinted that he feared he might already be 
 forestalled in Lilias' regard, and, on Major Meredith's 
 warm assertion that he was sure such a thing was impos- 
 sible, had fortified his position still f^ rther by means that 
 lay ready to his hand. Accordingly he proceeded to com- 
 municate to the Major, already irritated by the idea which 
 had been suggested to him, a good deal of the ill-natured 
 gossip which Payne had been circulating about Ernest 
 whenever he could find a listener as interested and as 
 credulous as Percival. The indignant excitement of Major 
 Meredith gave Percival good reason to suppose that 
 Lilias would soon hear what he was certain would have 
 its weight with her, even if it should give her some pain. 
 In spite of himself, his conscience troubled him a little 
 about the honourableness of thus stabbing a rival in the 
 dark ; but he inwardly justified himself with the reflection 
 that the stab was deserved, and that by this means he 
 was not only exposing a wrong, but also increasing his 
 chance of gaining what he had persuaded himself was 
 absolutely necessary to his future happiness. But Major 
 Meredith, now that the idea of Lilias' preference for Heath- 
 cote had fairly entered his mind, was somewhat dis- 
 quieted lest it might not be so groundless as he had wished 
 to believe. He began to accuse himself of imprudence in 
 having permitted the young people to be so much together, 
 
AT OAKRIDGE. 
 
 199 
 
 for, though he shrank from the idea of causing pain to 
 Lilias, he could not bring himself to regard a possible 
 union between her and Ernest as anything but a mesalli- 
 ance^ — as much so as if they had been encompassed by 
 the most rigid restrictions of English social opinion. It 
 would touch his personal pride, too, as well as his conser- 
 vative class prejudices, for his friends in England had pro- 
 phesied such a result as one of the inevitable consequences 
 of his settling, against their wishes, in Canada, when he 
 retired on half pay. He had always put such an idea far 
 from him, and had, till lately, persevered in regarding 
 Lilias as a child ; but of late the thought of Captain Per- 
 cival as a possible son-in-law had lodged itself in his mind 
 as a happy way of settling his daughter's future, and falsi- 
 fying the prediction which still lingered in his memory. 
 As the son of an old friend, the scion of an ancient family, 
 a brave and enthusiastic soldier, sure to rise in his pro- 
 fession, — the profession most honorable of all in the 
 Major's eyes, — Percival had, in his estimation, everything 
 to make him a desirable parti for Lilias. And all these 
 desirable qualifications were lacked by poor Ernest, whom 
 Captain Percival had contemptuously styled " a village 
 schoolmaster." It would be awkward if Lilias cared for 
 the fellow, thought the Major ; for he had by no means 
 lost the memory of his own strong attachment, and of the 
 grief of his loss. And the pain which he felt, rather than 
 saw, Lilias had received from his communication increased 
 
300 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 his rising misgiving lest Percival's theory of a rival might 
 be true. But he trusted that, if so, the information he had 
 given her would open her eyes and steel her heart against 
 Ernest ; and nothing more was said on the subject during 
 his short visit. He was so sure of his daughter's honour- 
 able regard for his wishes that he did not feel it necessary 
 to repeat his charge, and they parted with the tacit under- 
 standing -that it would not be disregarded. But indeed 
 Lilias was hardly likely at present to have any tempta- 
 tion to transgress it. She was, for once, glad of her 
 father's departure, which relieved her from the effort of 
 keeping up an appearance of cheerfulness with a sorely 
 troubled heart. 
 
 About a week after his departure, Lilias was seated under 
 her favourite hickory, her hands busily engaged in making 
 an elaborate shirt for her father, while her thoughts had, as 
 usual, wandered to Newark, when she saw John Wardle 
 halt at the gate of The Elms. She knew that this, now- 
 adays, generally portended a letter or a message from her 
 father, and throwing down her work, she ran to the gate 
 to receive what he had brought. There was, perhaps, the 
 shadow of a smile in the corner of honest John's mouth, 
 which he would have deemed it disrespectful to show more 
 distinctly, when he took carefully out of his pocket a note 
 neatly folded and sealed, and handed it to Miss Lilias, 
 saying that he was "bid to give it to her — her own self." 
 
 Ifilias saw at a glance that the superscription was in 
 
AT OAKRIDGE. 
 
 20I 
 
 Ernest's handwriting, and her heart began to beat so vio* 
 lently, with mingled surprise, gladness and perplexity, 
 that she found it difiBcult to command her voice so as to 
 give old John the few pleasant words he always expected 
 from her. At last, after what seemed a long time, she got 
 away, and, sitting down again under her tree, she read 
 and re-read the superscription before she could make up 
 her mind whether it was right to open it. Was it not 
 against the spirit, if not the letter of her father's command, 
 even to read a communication from Ernest .'' And yet she 
 felt sure that the note must have been written for good 
 reason, and that harm might result from her leaving it 
 unread. Ernest could not know of the prohibition of 
 intercourse, and she might surely read what he had written, 
 even though she could not, of course, reply to it. At any 
 rate she could not bring herself to destroy the letter unread ; 
 and to keep it and not read it seemed as impossible. So» 
 although with a feeling of pain and perplexity at her heart, 
 she cut the paper round the sea? with careful, loving hand, 
 and opened and read it. 
 
 She scarcely knew whether she was relieved or disap- 
 pointed to find that the note contained no reference to 
 personal matters, and needed no answer except action. 
 There were only a few words, evidently written in haste, 
 to say that he had every reason to fear that Payne in- 
 tended to try to inveigle Rachel into an elopement and a 
 mock marriage. Would Lilias kindly see Rachel as 
 
16i 
 
 l^OR Kil^G AND COUNTRY. 
 
 speedily as possible, and, if she thought it needful, would 
 she even cautiously put his uncle and aunt on their guard ? 
 He wished to spare them the pain of knowing anything 
 about it, if possible; but it might be necessary. He 
 would have come himself if he could have got away, but 
 as he could not do so just then, he was sure he might 
 take the liberty of asking Lilias. 
 
 She closed the note with a half sigh. Its tone was 
 so thoroughly, almost distantly respectful, that it seemed 
 silently to rebuke the thoughts and feelings of which she 
 had been conscious in regard to him. She could not 
 know the aching longings (hat had been repressed — to 
 say just one little word more ! But she knew better, or 
 perhaps it woul 1 be more correct to say felt more truly* 
 now than to entertain any jealousy about his concern for 
 Rachel's welfare, and she resolved to attend to his request 
 as speedily as possible. 
 
 . Accordingly, as soon as the afteinoon had grown a 
 little cooler, she mounted her grey pony and rode off to 
 the Lake Farm. When she reached it she found Mrs. 
 Thurstane sitting alone at the spinning wheel, on which 
 she was busily spinning wool for the winter stockings. She 
 had more than her usual share of that to do this year, as 
 Rachel had to go out to the fields now to help her father 
 and hei youngest brother, in the absence of the other 
 lads, — a task that did not altogether please Rachel, who had 
 found out that the exposure was not good for her com- 
 plexion. 
 
 
At OAKRlDGfi. 
 
 203 
 
 She was not to be seen at this moment ; her mother 
 thought she had gone to look for the cows ; so Lilias sat 
 down to rest and enjoy a chat with her old friend. But 
 Patience was not in her usual spirits, and Lilias soon 
 found out that she was very anxious about Ernest. Major 
 Meredith had encountered Jacob as he was leaving Oak- 
 ridge, and, with his usual unreserve, had told him some- 
 thing of his dissatisfaction with his nephew and his deter- 
 mination to have nothing more to do with him. 
 
 "And Jacob's pretty keen when he's roused, thee 
 knows, Miss Lilias," she said, "and of course he stood up 
 for the lad, that he thinks as much of as of his own son ; 
 so I'm thinking they had some hot words between them ; 
 and my old man I can see he takes it to heart, for he 
 thinks so much of the Major, too ! Ah, well, 'twould be a 
 weary world if we didn't know who was over all, and that 
 nothing can happen without His letting it ! But for 
 Ernest I would answer as for my own self. There never 
 was a boy was more true to whatever he undertook, nor 
 more honest nor more careful to say nothing behind thy 
 back that he wouldn't say before thy face." 
 
 " Indeed, I'm sure of that," replied Lilias warmly, 
 " and I'm sure my father will be sorry by-and~by for his 
 mistake. It will all come right by-and-by," — she added, 
 with a confidence she was far from feeling. 
 
 As Rachel did not soon return, Lilias said she would 
 go and look for her, and gathering up her habit, she strolled 
 
 
 m 
 
304 
 
 rOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 -I'i 
 
 slowly about the fann, and down to the lake shore, every 
 object around her bringing Ernest almost painfully to 
 mind. But the object of her search was nowhere to be 
 seen, and Lilias at last, not willing to be out late in the 
 lonely road, said she must set out on her return, and come 
 again to see Rachel. She could not bring herself at pres- 
 ent to add to Patience's load of anxiety by explaining the 
 reason of her visit, at least not until she could speak with 
 Rachel herself and ascertain whether it was necessary. 
 Patience seemed somewhat uneasy at her daughter's 
 absence, and went to the gate herself to open it for Miss 
 Lilias, and see her safely started. 
 
 Lilias had not gone far before she found that her stirrup- 
 strap had comd unfastened, and as she could not ride 
 comfortably, she dismounted to set it right. To remount 
 easily, she led her pony to a fallen log that lay at the edge 
 of the road next the forest. Just as she was about to mount, 
 she thought she could hear voices a little way in the wood. 
 She listened, and was sure she could distinguish the voice 
 of Rachel speaking in low tones. She would advance 
 cautiously, she thought, and see ; so, throwing the pony's 
 bridle over a branch, she picked her way in among the 
 brushwood. Presently she came upon the figures, whom, 
 at a glance, she could distinguish as Lieutenant Payne 
 and Rachel, seated on a mossy log, with their backs 
 towards her, and so engrossed in conversation that they 
 did not hear the slight rustling she made in approaching 
 
5, every 
 'ully to 
 ! to be 
 in the 
 d come 
 at pres- 
 ling the 
 ak with 
 cessary. 
 ughter's 
 or Miss 
 
 stirrup- 
 
 Qot ride 
 
 remount 
 
 :he edge 
 
 i mount, 
 
 le wood. 
 
 le voice 
 
 idvance 
 
 pony's 
 
 ong the 
 
 whom, 
 
 Payne 
 
 backs 
 
 lat they 
 
 3aching 
 
 At oakridge. 205 
 
 t^em. Payne's arm was around Rachel's waist, and her 
 hand in his, and he seemed to be coaxing her to some- 
 thing to which she was somewhat averse. 
 
 " Just slip away with me now, quietly," she heard him 
 say ; " I've got a good strong horse and you can ride 
 behind me. Then when we've made everything straight, 
 we'll come back and see the old folks, you know. And 
 there'll be no more nasty, hard work in the hot sun for my 
 pretty pet." 
 
 Lilias stood still for a moment, irresolute. She felt 
 uncomfortable enough in the position of a listener, but she 
 could not decide at once how to act. In a few moments, 
 however, her mind was made up, and her moral courage 
 conquered the natural shrinking that would have kepi her 
 back. 
 
 "Rachel," she said, in as calm a tone as she could 
 command, " I'm glad I have found you. I have been at 
 the farm looking for you." 
 
 Both Rachel and her companion had started to their 
 feet, looking caught, the hot guilty colour flushing over 
 Rachel's face. Lieutenant Payne made a low bow to 
 Lilias, whom he had met before, and was about to begin 
 a complimentary salutation. But Lilias interrupted him, 
 looking him straight in the face with her clear, candid eyes, 
 before which his own fell. 
 
 " Mr. Payne," she said, slowly and decidedly, " I think 
 that anything you may have to say to Rachel had better 
 
2o6 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 be said before her father and mother. If you persist in 
 trying to see her alone, I shall have to pul them on their 
 guard." 
 
 Rachel looked miserable and imploring, and Payne 
 tried to hide his anger and discomfiture under some suave 
 unmeaning words, such as he was in the habit of address- 
 ing to ladies. Lilias took no further notice of him than to 
 bid him a cool good evening, and taking Rachel's unre- 
 sisting arm, she drew her towards the road, saying she 
 would walk back to the farm-gate with her, leading her 
 pony by his bridle. She talked earnestly and seriously 
 to Rachel, trying to convince her of the Lieutenant's base- 
 ness in seeking to allure her away from her home, and of 
 the terrible sorrow she would bring upon her father and 
 mother if she listened to him ; and finally, under dread of 
 exposure, extracted from the sobbing girl a distinct promise 
 that she would not see or speak to her false-hearted ad- 
 mirer again without her mother's knowledge. It was a 
 hard fight, but Lilias felt sure that the victory was gained 
 at last ; for Patience Thurstane had brought up all her 
 family with the most solerin sense of the binding obliga- 
 tion of a promise. And Rachel's promise being given, it 
 would not be easy to get her to break it. 
 
 As the two girls still stood talking at the gate, Jacob 
 Thurstane came up on one- of his stout farm-horses. He 
 had been taking a bag, of wheat to the mill at Oakridge, 
 and'w^9 tired enoughi after his busy day's work. But no 
 
AT OAKRIDOE. 
 
 207 
 
 entreaties of Lilias would prevent him from turning back 
 to escort her home. " It was getting too late," he said, 
 " for her to be out ?lone." And Lilias accepted his escort 
 the more willingly that she saw it would give her an oppor- 
 tunity of putting the old farmer on his guard concerning 
 Payne. 
 
 As they rode on together, he began to talk of her 
 father, and Lilias could see that the old man's heart was a 
 good deal troubled about his difference with " the Major." 
 
 " Him and me-s rubbed on together so many years 
 now without ever a word between us, and it comes hard 
 to have any hasty words between us now ! But then, ycu 
 see, I couldn't abide to hear the lad hardly spoken of, as 
 I'm sure he doesn't deserve it. Why, I could answer for 
 his being true to the back-bone, if my own life was at stake 
 for it !" 
 
 Lilias tried to soothe the good old man by her own 
 strong assurances of trust in Ernest, and her belief that 
 her father's distrust would ere long be removed. She felt 
 sure it was some wicked slander, and its falsity would soon 
 be exposed. 
 
 " Yes," said Jacob, thoughtfully, " I don't believe in 
 betting, but I'd be willing almost to lay something consid- 
 erable that it's that fellow Davis has been at the bottom 
 of it ! I saw him at the tavern as I went up to the village, 
 with Lieutenant Payne, and I met him going back as I 
 was coming honie. I wonder what brings him round her^ ,' 
 After no good, I reckon," 
 
^ 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRV. 
 
 •4 i:. 
 
 Lilias saw that she had an opportunity to give a word 
 of warning without causing serious pain. So she replied — 
 
 "I have heard that he admires Rachel's beauty very 
 much, and he may possibly be trying to get an opportu- 
 nity to talk to her. It would be as well for you to look 
 after her while he is about." 
 
 " Rachel ! Indeed, I will," replied the farmer, em- 
 phatically. "That scamp shan't get the chance to put 
 mischief into my child's head !" he said, little dreaming 
 how close danger had been to the pet lamb of his fold. 
 
 Lilias felt silently thankful that she had been provi- 
 dentially permitted to be the means of warding off such a 
 terrible calamity from the honest old man's home, as well 
 as of saving Ernest's cousin, for she felt convinced that the 
 girl's eager pleasure-loving heart had been on the point of 
 yielding to the persuasions of a man for whom, neverthe- 
 less, she felt nothing stronger than a childish fancy. 
 
 But to make her safety surer, Lilias proceeded gently, 
 without throwing any blame on Rachel, to give Jacob some 
 idea of the true state of the case and of Payne's villanotfs 
 scheme. His indignation, though repressed, was evidently 
 sharp enough, and he declared that if he could only get 
 another sight of Payne, he would give him a " bit of his 
 mind." 
 
 This intention he had an opportunity of fulfilling next 
 morning, — and did so to such good purpose, that the young 
 lieutenant, somewhat abashed, saw that he must give up 
 
 i'3l 
 
AT OAKRIDGE. 
 
 i6^ 
 
 e a word 
 replied — 
 auty very 
 L opportu- 
 )u to look 
 
 rmer, efn- 
 ice to put 
 
 dreaming 
 lis fold, 
 een provi- 
 r off such a 
 me, as well 
 :ed that the 
 he point of 
 
 , neverthe- 
 
 incy. 
 
 ided gently, 
 
 acob some 
 's villanorts 
 
 .s evidently 
 |ld only get 
 
 " bit of his 
 
 ^filling next 
 
 It the young 
 
 ist give up 
 
 his scheme as a iruitless one, and retire finally, in disgust^ 
 from Oakridge. 
 
 But Lilias, next day, felt the sensation of weariness and 
 lassitude almost overpowering her. She had been over- 
 strained by the varying emotions of the past few weeks, 
 and especially by the anxiety and depression that had fol- 
 lowed her father's last visit, and the inward strain and ex* 
 citement of her interference in Rachel's affair had brought 
 a prostrating reaction to her sensitive organisation. It 
 soon became manifest that she was suffering from an 
 attack of low fever, and on her father's next visit he rode 
 off hurriedly to get the military doctor from Newark, and 
 to send an imploring message to Marjorie McLeod, who 
 came at once to nurse and tend her sick friend. And so 
 Lilias, though she declared that there was scarcely any- 
 thing the matter with her, dragged on weary days and 
 nights in the languor of intense, feverish prostration. 
 
 In the meantime, the stir of excitement and expecta- 
 tion was largely increased by news of the fighting in the 
 west ; the action at Tarontee, where two brave privates of 
 the 41st, like Horatius of old, "kept the bridge" in the 
 face of overwhelming numbers, until one was killed and 
 the other taken prisoner ; the contests, with varying suc- 
 cess, between Hull and Proctor near Detroit ; and the 
 capture of the American post at Mackinaw Island by a 
 handful of regulars, half-breeds and Indians. As the 
 
 August heat drew on, and the volunteers were beginning to 
 
 14 
 
 
 
2IO 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 
 think anxiously of their yellowing fietdsj and wonder how 
 the harvest would be got in, General Brock, having 
 got through the pressing business of the Legislature at 
 York, set out with his staff and his little escort of regular 
 soldiers, on the expedition to Detroit, which was to end 
 so brilliantly in its capture. Captain Percival, to his great 
 satisfaction, was included in the General's staff, and went 
 off in high spirits, hoping to see some action at last. 
 
 Ernest Heathcote got his ensigncy, but a few days after 
 was sent for by his commanding officer, to answer seriously 
 against the charges of disloyalty and treachery, rumours 
 of which had become increasingly prevalent. But his 
 unflinching firmness in denying the slightest shadow of 
 foundation for such a charge, and the frank honesty of his 
 bearing and his words, satisfied the officer that the report 
 was only one of the baseless calumnies not unfrequently 
 circulated in those days about loyal men. Moreover, he 
 knew Ernest to be one of his most efficient and faithful 
 , , volunteers, who could ill be spared. And Ernest went 
 away with a lighter heart, for the few cordial words of his 
 officer at parting satisfied him that, in that quarter at least, 
 he would be trusted still. 
 
VICTORY. 
 
 211 
 
 \der how 
 :, having 
 slature at 
 of regular 
 as to end 
 ohis great 
 , and went 
 last. 
 
 r days after 
 >r seriously 
 y, rumours 
 But his 
 shadow of 
 nesty of his 
 t the report 
 infrequently 
 oreover, he 
 nd faithful 
 ,rnest went 
 ords of his 
 ter at least, 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 VICTORY ! 
 
 *' Hurrah ! hurrah ! a single field hath turned the chance of war ; 
 Hurrah ! hurrah ! for Ivry, and Henry of Navarre !" 
 
 IT was two or three weeks before Lilias had sufficiently 
 recovered from her feverish attack to go about as 
 usual, and even then her step and her movements had a 
 languor that had never characterized them before. Mar- 
 jorie was an invaluable companion at a time when, had she 
 been alone, she would have been tempted, perhaps, to 
 yield altogether to depression of mind and body. Mar- 
 jorie read to her, or talked to her, almost incessantly, and 
 as soon as possible got her out to lie on an extempore 
 couch of skins and shawls spread under the trees. Ernest 
 Heathcote had been once at Oakridge during her illness. 
 He had heard of it, and had managed to get over to en- 
 quire how she really was. Of course he heard from his 
 uncle and aunt all ihat Major Meredith had said of him- 
 self, — heard, too, who was the Major's informant. He was 
 not much surprised ; for, with the instinctive feeling that 
 seldom deceives, he had been for some time convinced 
 that Percival was inwardly hostile to him, and so woul^ 
 
^12 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 willingly believe anything to his discredit. Perhaps a sus- 
 picion of what might be the cause of this made it easier to 
 bear the grievance quietly. Ke said little, resolving to 
 await Captain Eercival's return, and then to demand his 
 authority for his statement. Meantime, of course, he made 
 no attempt to see Lilias. 
 
 When she heard of his visit, Lilias was not sorry that 
 it should have been at a time when she was s^ill confined 
 to her room. It would have been hard indeed, she felt, 
 to obey her father's charge, had she been going about as 
 usual, and perhaps met Ernest face to face. Still she 
 longed more than she could tell, in her present state of 
 weakness and unrest, for one glimpse of the familiar face, 
 a few words from the familiar voice that never seemed so 
 pleasant and so much wanted before. 
 
 There was a good deal of rainy, tempestuous weather 
 that August, and Marjorie, whose father and eldest brother 
 had gone with General Brock's expedition, had watched 
 the weather from day to day with an anxious heart, feel- 
 ing that the troops must suffer from exposure to its inclem- 
 ency. Neither was there any means of knowing how they 
 fared. In these days of daily papers well stocked with 
 telegraphic reports, it is not easy to realize the trial of sus- 
 pense, the longing for some tidings, the weariness of wait- 
 ing till the return of the expedition, or the arrival of a 
 slowly travelling messenger, should bring at last the tardy 
 news. And to Marjorie's eager, impetuous nature, anxious, 
 
VICTORY. 
 
 213 
 
 both on private and public grounds, to hear how things 
 were going, — the suspense was trying indeed. 
 
 August had dragged itself on at last to its twenty-fourth 
 day. It had been a heavy, cloudy one, threatening rain, — 
 the wind blowing so unpleasantly that the girls had hardly 
 cared to venture out. Towards evening the wind fell, and 
 they strolled out by Lilias' favourite walk, the path that 
 led to the churchyard, and then down through the " Maple 
 Bush " to the lake. They were suprised to find how chilly 
 the evening was, seeming an avant courier of approaching 
 autumn. The lake, instead of the delicious soft summer 
 blueness of tint which it had so lately worn, seemed a 
 dreary waste of cold greenish grey,— the landscape and the 
 water almost like a dim sketch in neutral tints ; and the 
 dark, cold-looking waves surged heavily up on the beach 
 w^fh a sullen swell, presaging bleak and wintry days. 
 Heavy purple clouds lay horizontally across the sky, and 
 behind them a soft band of saffron light showed almost 
 lurid against the darkness. The sullen haziness of the 
 evening seemed in harmony with the troubled atmosphere 
 that brooded over the land, and with the anxiety that lay 
 heavy at the hearts of the girls. Even Marjorie's spirits 
 seemed to fail, as they stood watching the long roll of the 
 grey waves on the sand, and at last, with a chill shiver, as 
 much mental as physical, turned homeward. They met 
 Nannie, as they approached the house, thoughtfully col- 
 lecting an armful of dead wood to make up a fire for the 
 
 
ai4 ^OR KING AND COUNTkY. 
 
 "lassies." It was soon blazing and crackling in the wide 
 fire-place, and, with the tea-table drawn up in front of it, 
 the girls began to feel brighter ; even though the rain, 
 coming down at last, began to plash heavily against the 
 window-panes. 
 
 While they listened to the dreary sounds ot wind and 
 rain without, talking a little now and then, though their 
 hearts were wandering far away, Bruno's sudden barking, 
 — followed by a little bustle and noise at the back-door, 
 and by Nannie's voice raised in sudden ejaculation, — 
 announced the arrival of an unexpected visitor. Lilias, 
 supposing it must be her father, was about to rush to the 
 door to welcome him, when it opened, and Captain Per- 
 cival appeared, his dark-blue military cloak drenched with 
 rain, the drops of which were glistening, too, on his auburn 
 hair and whiskers. He was greeted with surprised ple^ 
 sure ; for the unexpected arrival from the world without, 
 bearing intelligence of so much that they were eager to 
 know, could not but be most welcome. Even Lilias for- 
 got, for the time, her private cause for displeasure with 
 Percival, and greeted him warmly, asking how he came 
 there in such a storm. 
 
 *' It is just the storm which must be my excuse for ap- 
 pr^aring here so late ;" he replied, smiling, and evidently 
 jrat'fied by his cordial reception. He then hastily explained 
 ^bat General Brock and the expedition had just returned, 
 Dy the schooner ChipRawa, across Lake Erie, and 
 
the wide 
 mt of it, 
 the rain, 
 ainst the 
 
 »vind and 
 jgh their 
 
 barking, 
 ack-door, 
 Uation, — 
 Lilias, 
 sh to the 
 tain Per- 
 :hed with 
 is auburn 
 
 sed ple%- 
 l without, 
 
 eager to 
 .ilias for- 
 sure with 
 
 he came 
 
 56 for ap- 
 evidently 
 explained 
 returned, 
 ne, and 
 
 VICTORY. 2! 5 
 
 were by this time at Fort George. He himself had been 
 sent round from Fort Erie by a circuitous route with de- 
 spatches for the outposts, and finding himself not far from 
 Oakridge, had made a little detour, in order to give his 
 friend Major Meredith the news, claim his hospitality for 
 the night, and push on to Newark in the morning. The 
 state of the roads along which he had to pick his way, and 
 the darkness of the evening, making it impossible to see a 
 yard before him, had not only very much delayed his pro- 
 gress, but had made him only too glad to seek, for him- 
 self and his exhausted horse, a shelter at The Elms. 
 
 Lilias explained that her father was absent at Newark, 
 but gave Captain Percival a courteous and hospitable 
 greeting. Marjorie could hardly repress her eagerness till 
 the necessary civilities had been gone through, and then 
 came her eager questions. The first, of course, was for 
 the welfare of her father and brother, and her next, on 
 being assured of that — " What success .?" 
 
 " Splendid success !" exclaimed he exultingly. " De- 
 troit captured ; Hull driven from his position and com- 
 pelled to capitulate ! Cannon, stores, colours, and nearly 
 three thousand prisoners surrendered, and the ball at our 
 feet, to go on and crush the last vestige of the invasion !" 
 
 Marjorie's delight was uncontrollable. She could 
 hardly refrain from a " hurrah !" and Lilias, though quieter 
 in her manifestation of it, felt hardly less emotion. Both 
 were eager to know the particulars, and when Percival had 
 
21 6 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 seen the comfort of his tired horse secured, and had re- 
 moved his wet cloak and taken some needed refreshment, 
 both girls Hstened with fascinated ears to his recital of the 
 adventures of the expedition. It was suprising, indeed, 
 as Lilias could not help inwardly remarking, what a trans- 
 formation had come overPercival — howchanged he seemed 
 from the indifferent, coldly polite, blasef young man he 
 had appeared on his first arrival. Now, genuine enthu- 
 siasm animated his voice and sparkled in his eye ; even 
 his tones seemed to have a deeper vibration, and as Lilias 
 noted the effect of his plunge into the real military work 
 which was so congenial to him, she could not wonder that 
 he had welcomed the advent of war. Yet it was not wholly 
 his military experiences, congenial as they were, which 
 had made the difference. Contact with a character so 
 noble as that of Brock, which exercised a strong influence 
 on all who came in contact with him, had done much to 
 rouse a spirit not naturally ignoble, but enervated by idle- 
 ness and inaction. His observation of the General's high, 
 unselfish aims, and whole-souled devotion to duty, had 
 shown him the comparative pettiness of his own self-cen- 
 tred motives, even in his dreams of gallantly serving his 
 country and winning military glory. He had not yet 
 come to feel the true central force of action, the constrain- 
 ing power, which, acting alike through heart and mind, 
 can alone round the life into a beautiful harmony. But 
 he was, at least, beginning to appreciate its effects in the 
 
VICTORY. 
 
 217 
 
 lives of others, and to feel, with a vague dissatisfaction 
 and longing, the want of it in his own. And the secret 
 influence of Lilias herself, unconscious as it was, had Kad 
 no small share in producing this effect. 
 
 As they listened, now, to his graphic account of the 
 progress of the expedition, the girls could see in imagina- 
 tion the scenes he described ; — could follow the troops in 
 their march from Burlington Bay to Long Point, on Lake 
 Erie ; — in their toilsome four days and nights of rowing 
 in open boats over the storm-tossed waves of the lake, the 
 rain pouring down upon them, and the uhsheltered coast 
 presenting formidable and often unseen dangers. " And," 
 added Percival, with natural satisfaction, " the General 
 declared that he had never seen troops who could endure 
 the fatigue and the bad weather with greater cheerfulness, 
 and that the conduct of the* little band throughout had ex- 
 cited his admiration. As for your father, Miss McLeod, 
 none of your Ossianic heroes could have braved storra and 
 danger and exposure with more utter indifference ! With 
 his plaid wrapped round him, he seemed to care no more 
 for wind and waves than — the General himself." 
 
 Marjorie's eyes glistened with a moist sparkle ; for she 
 was very proud of her brave, stately, soldierly father ; 
 proud, too, of the other brave man in whom her own pure 
 disinterested devotion gave her a certain sense of property. 
 
 Then Percival went on to tell them of the landing at 
 Atnhertsburg, where General Brock had, for the first time^ 
 
2l8 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 met the Shawnee Chief, Tecumseh, and where the two 
 Generals, the British and the Indian one, — not a little re- 
 sembling each other in some of their essential and noble 
 characteristics — had concerted their plan of operation 
 against the American force. 
 
 "They seemed to take to each other instantly," said 
 Percival. " Tecumseh seemed impressed with General 
 Brock's ability and courage at once, as one could see in 
 his glistening eyes and his eagerness to act with him, 
 though of course he said very little at the parley. I never 
 saw an Indian that came up so much to my idea of Camp- 
 bell's * noble savage.' He's a good-looking fellow, — has 
 a light copper-coloured complexion, an oval face with 
 bright hazel eyes full of cheerfulness, energy, and decision, 
 and a figure not very tall, but slender and finely propor- 
 tioned. He had no tawdry ornaments of paint or beads, 
 but a plain deer-skin costume, the seams decorated with 
 neatly cut fringes, a red kerchief tied round his head, with 
 an eagle feather fastened in it, and on his feet leather moc- 
 casins, richly embroidered with dyed porcupine quills. 
 The only ornaments about him were three small silver 
 crowns or coronets suspended from his aquiline nose, — 
 having a very odd effect, — and around his neck, hanging 
 by a coloured string of wampun, a large silver medallion 
 of old George the Third, which he told us an ancestor of 
 his had received from Lord Dorchester. But he was as 
 dignified as an emperor in stars and orders, and his keen 
 
VICTORY. 
 
 219 
 
 the two 
 little re- 
 nd noble 
 )peration 
 
 :ly," said 
 
 General 
 lid see in 
 ith him, 
 
 I never 
 of Camp- 
 ow, — has 
 "ace with 
 decision, 
 V propor- 
 or beads, 
 Lted with 
 ead, with 
 
 ler moc- 
 le quills, 
 all silver 
 ; nose, — 
 
 hanging 
 nedallion 
 icestor of 
 c was as 
 
 his keen 
 
 hawk-like eye looked as if it took in everything with one 
 silent glance. The General asked him whether his people 
 could be got to refrain from drinking spirits, and Tecum- 
 seh told him that they had, one and all, before leaving 
 their wigwams on the Wabash, promised not to touch it 
 till they had humbled the * Big Knives,' as they called 
 the Americans. You should have seen how pleased the 
 General looked, and with what approval and dignity he 
 said : 'Adhere to this resolution and you must conquer.'" 
 Percival proceeded to describe the crossing at Detroit* 
 when General Brock stood erect in his canoe, purposely 
 exposing himself, with a noble rashness, in order to inspire 
 his troops with courage, and win the confidence of his 
 Indian allies. The Indian Chief described him afterwards 
 in one of his eloquent orations as " the pale-faced warrior, 
 who, standing erect in the bow of his canoe, led the way 
 to battle." An expedition thus led could hardly fail to 
 conquer. Brock had seized his opportunity ; and by the 
 judicious concerted action of his handful of troops — only 
 about seven hundred in all, — " four hundred of whom were 
 Canadian militia disguised as red-coats," and of his Indian 
 allies, the enemy were driven into their fort, where they 
 speedily capitulated. By the terms of the capitulation 
 they surrendered their entire force, consisting of about 
 2,500 troops, including some artillery and cavalry, with a 
 stand of colours, thirty-three pieces of cannon, a quantity 
 of stores and the military chest. A vessel of war was in- 
 
 \ 
 
220 
 
 POR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 
 eluded in the surrender, by which the important cession of 
 the Michigan territory and Fort Detroit was also made to 
 the British Government. And all this was secured, as 
 General Brock observed in one of his despatches, " with- 
 out the sacrifice of a single drop of British blood," and 
 indeed, it must be added, without any great amount of 
 bloodshed even on the American side. The rout was a 
 most complete one, striking dismay to the hearts of the 
 invaders, " blasting," as an American historian says, " the 
 prospects of the first campaign," animating and giving con- 
 fidence to the militia, which had now seen its first engage- 
 ment ; and winning for the General, who was himself sur- 
 prised at the ease of his conquest, the warmest admiration 
 of the Canadian people. In its completness and in its 
 results it was no less decisive and important, as regarded 
 the success of the campaign, than was the victory of Sala- 
 manca, gained by Wellington over Marmont less than a 
 month previous, as regarded that of the Peninsular War. 
 
 As Percival enthusiastically declared : — " Brock had 
 only to go on as he had begun," in order to free Canada 
 finally in the course of a few weeks from the disturbers of 
 her peace. And, although very much against his will, the 
 General was not permitted to do this, yet it is not too 
 much to say this "single field " did "turn the chance of 
 war ;" that by cheering and encouraging the people, secur- 
 ing the support of wavering Indian tribes, and retarding 
 the American operations for nearly a year, it was va, no 
 
VICTORY. 
 
 M 
 
 small degree instrument.il in eventually securing the pre- 
 servation of Upper Canada to the British Crown. 
 
 Nor had the victory been sullied by a single departure 
 from clemency and humanity, lirock had permitted the 
 American militia to retire unmolested to their homes ; 
 while he treated with all possible kindness and consider- 
 ation the regular soldiers, who were, of course, detained as 
 prisoners of war, and whose confiscated weapons were a 
 most timely boon for the further arming of the Canadian 
 militia. Even the Indians, usually so barbarous in their 
 warfare, had been restrained from committing a solitary 
 act of cruelty. This was chiefly owing to the unbounded 
 influence that General Brock had acquired over his savage 
 allies by the chivalrous dash ard promptness which had 
 crowned his expedition with su:h speedy and brilliant 
 success, and to the earnestnesF with which he used his 
 influence to restrain their naturally ferocious impulses. In 
 his general orders issued at Detroit, he told them that in 
 nothing could they testify more strongly their love to the 
 King, their great father, than in following the dictates of 
 honour and humanity. And in Tecumseh he found an 
 efficient supporter. Unsparing as the Chief was in battle, 
 he was humane to the wounded, and contemptuously toler- 
 ant towards the prisoners, of whom he said to General 
 Brock, that " he despised them too much to meddle with 
 them !" 
 
 Captain Percival added, to complete his animated 
 
 
332 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 account of a warrior of a type so new to him, a description 
 of his answering some of the General's topographical 
 enquiries by throwing himself on the ground, and tracing 
 with his knife, upon a sh'jet of bark, a plan of the country, 
 with all its natural features of hills, woods, rivers and 
 marshes, which the General declared was as clear and intel- 
 ligible as a surveyor's map. Furthermore, Percival told 
 them how, after the surrender of Detroit, General Brock 
 had taken off his own sash and publicly adorned the 
 Chief with it, as a special mark of honour ; and how, 
 notwithstanding the evident gratification with which he 
 received it, he appeared next day without it, when it was 
 found that, not wishing to wear the badge of distinction in 
 the presence of one whom he esteemed an abler as well as 
 an older warrior, he had transferred it to the Wyandot 
 Chief Roundhead. Indeed Percival seemed thoroughly 
 fascinated by the Indian Chief, who was truly one of the 
 heroes of the war ; and seemed never to tire of speaking 
 of one of whom he could hardly find words sufficient to 
 express his admiration. 
 
 Marjorie and Lilias became so absorbed in the recital 
 of events so vitally interesting to them, that they hardly 
 knew how the hours passed, till roused with a start — as 
 Captain Percival, on consulting his watch, declared that it 
 was almost midnight, and that he was beginning to feel the 
 effects of excitement and fatigue. Old Nanni?, who had 
 managed, by coming in now and then, to hear a good d^al 
 
VICTORY. 
 
 223 
 
 of the story, in which she was as much interested as the 
 others, had in the intervals prepared his room, which, he 
 laughingly remarked, would be an agreeable contrast to 
 the sleeping accommodation of the camp, to which he had 
 been accustomed of late. He bade the girls good-bye, as 
 well as good-night, and before the broad morning sun- 
 shine had awakened them from their slumbers he was well 
 on his way to Newark. 
 
224 
 
 rOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A SUNSET MEETING. 
 
 '• Love, art thou sweet ? then bitter death must be ! 
 Love, thou art bitter ; sweet is death to me. 
 
 love, if death be sweeter, let me die." 
 
 •• I fain would follow love, if that could be ; 
 
 1 needs must follow death, who calls for me ; 
 Call and I follow, I follow ; let me die." 
 
 MUCH against the will of General Brock, the month 
 of September, after his return to the Niagara 
 frontier, passed in forced and reluctant inactivity. He 
 was burning to follow up his success by pressing on upon 
 the invading forces in their half-prepared condition ; and — 
 as he firmly believed he could, — make a clean sweep of 
 the invasion at once and forever. But, unfortunately, 
 Fabian counsels prevailed at headquarters, and an armis- 
 tice was granted, just sufficing to give the Americans time 
 to rally from the discouraging effect of the capture of 
 Detroit, to complete their half-arranged plans and prepara- 
 tions, to concentrate formidable masses of men at the 
 chief points of attack, and to prepare for their subsequent 
 successes on Lake Ontario ; while it sent eight hundre4 
 
A SUNSET MEETING. 
 
 22$ 
 
 e month 
 Niagara 
 :y. He 
 on upon 
 . ; and — 
 iweep of 
 unately, 
 I armis- 
 ms time 
 jture of 
 jrepara- 
 at the 
 >sequent 
 lundred 
 
 Indians, assembled and eager to fight on the side of 
 the British, in disgust to their own homes. But the decree 
 had gone forth, and the obedient soldier could only sub- 
 mit, though he chafed at the situation. It was no light 
 trial to his prompt energetic nature to lie by with tied 
 hands and watch the force under General Van Rensselaer, 
 on the opposite side of the river, growing daily more and 
 more formidable, while he was absolutely prevented from 
 taking a single measure even to impede the warlike prepara- 
 tions. He was positively restricted to purely defensive 
 measures, and even when, about the middle of September, 
 the American outposts began to fire across the river, he felt 
 it his duty to discountenance the return firing which this 
 nr.turally evoked. So irrepressible, indeed, was the war- 
 like spirit of the American troops, that a flag of truce 
 which General Brock sent across with a letter to General 
 Rensselaer, on the sixteenth of September, was repeatedly 
 fired upon while crossing, — an occurrence not common in 
 civilized warfare. 
 
 For the news of the revocation by the English Govern- 
 ment of the decrees in Council that had been the pro- 
 fessed casus belli^ which took place, by a curious coinci- 
 dence, almost or exactly simultaneously with the declara- 
 tion of war at Washington, had had no perceptible effect 
 in modifying the hostile intentions of the Americans. It 
 was in this hope that Sir George Prevost, on hearing of 
 the revocation, had proposed suspension of hostilities 
 
 »5 
 
 ■ X 
 
 V ■!< 
 
 4 
 
 
226 
 
 FOU KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 until the sentiments of the American Government should 
 be known on the subject. But the American people were 
 now too eager for invasion — too keenly desirous for the 
 coveted prize, to go back. Henry Clay had declared in 
 Congress that he wished " never to see peace" till England 
 had been driven from the continent of America ; and if 
 this was the sentiment of a senator, it is easy to imagine 
 the feelings of the excited people, who had imagined the 
 enterprise to be one which had only to be undertaken in 
 order to succeed. 
 
 On the eighteenth of September General Brock wrote 
 to his brother : 
 
 " A river about five hundred yards wide divides the 
 troops. My instructions oblige me to adopt only defensive 
 measures, and I have evinced greater forbearance than 
 was ever practised on any former occasion. It is thought 
 that, without the aid of the sword, the American people 
 may be brought to a due sense of their own interest. I 
 firmly believe that I could, at this moment, sweep every- 
 thing before me between Fort Niagara and Buffalo. The 
 militia, being principally composed of enraged democrats, 
 are more ardent and anxious to engage, but they have 
 neither subordination nor discipline. They die very fast. 
 It is certainly singular that we should be two months in a 
 state of warfare, and that along the widely extended fron- 
 tier not a single death, either natural or by the sword, 
 should have occurred among the troops under my com- 
 mand ; nor has a single desertion taken place." 
 
A SUNSET MEETING. 
 
 337 
 
 should 
 lie were 
 
 for the 
 iared in 
 Lngland 
 ; and if 
 imagine 
 ned the 
 taken in 
 
 ck wrote 
 
 rides the 
 defensive 
 nee than 
 thought 
 ,n people 
 ;erest. I 
 ;p every- 
 lo. The 
 imocrats, 
 ley have 
 [very fast, 
 inths in a 
 Ided fron- 
 le sword, 
 my com- 
 
 But as the force on the Niagara frontier had now 
 reached the magnitude of six thousand men, it was evident 
 that open hostilities must ere long break out, and that an 
 attack might at any moment be expected. And for this 
 General Brock watched with untiring vigilance ; keeping 
 his troops, volunteer and regular, in a state of thoroughly 
 drilled readiness, and having a portion of the 49th, with a 
 body of militia, on guard at Queer ston Heights, where the 
 first attack might be expected. 
 
 Marjorie had returned home early in September, bring- 
 ing with her her friend, whom she insisted on carrying off 
 from the loneliness of a home where her father — now fully 
 engrossed with his military duties on the frontier — could 
 hardly ever be. Lilias soon regained both strength and 
 comparative cheerfulness in the more lively atmosphere of 
 Dunlathmon, where the boys were always coming and 
 going with scraps of the latest news ; where her father 
 came whenever he could ; where Marjorie and Flora with 
 their lively talk kept her from overmuch thought and 
 anxiety ; and where some of the officers, stationed so near, 
 were always glad to spend a pleasant hour. 
 
 One guest, however, and that the one her heart most 
 longed to see, never presented himself, although Marjorie 
 had privately given him to understand that he would be a 
 welcome visitor. But Ernest Heathcote had determined 
 not to meet Lilias again until he had fully exculpated 
 himself from the charge which he knew Captain Percival 
 
 iii 
 
 
 fi 
 
 \ > 
 
328 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 had brought against him, and which, he also knew, Major 
 Meredith believed. He felt it would not be treating the 
 Major honourably to take advantage of the opportunity he 
 might hav of seeing Liliar. against his will ; and to Lilias, 
 despi.e he> longings, it was a great relief that he did not 
 attempt to see her while her father's prohibition remained 
 in force. 
 
 It wr ^ 1^ <T0; d while before Ernest could find an oppor- 
 tunity oi ipe'L.) y to Captain Percival on the subject, as 
 he desired. Vir.m. h? did, Percival was surprised at the 
 ma^iy inde; .^ndenct, ^r' even dignity of bearing, shown 
 by the yoang m: . a^^ j -Voro he had nourished a con- 
 temptuous dislike, born -enough he would hardly have 
 confessed it — of latent jealousy. Ernest had indeed 
 gained a good deal, under the discipline of the last few 
 months, in both mental and physical energy. His military 
 training had strengthened and developed his physical 
 constitution, and this cause, combined with his being 
 drawn out from his former studious and contemplative 
 habits to encounter the exigencies of outward life, gave 
 him, along with added erectness of carriage, an amount of 
 aplomb and freedom of bearing which advantageously 
 replaced the shy constraint of manner so apt to grow 
 about one who leads a recluse and studious life. He spoke 
 to Percival firmly and quietly about the untruth of the 
 slander that he had repeated, indicating rather than 
 txpressing the injustice of giving currency to such ill- 
 
A SUNSET MEETING. 
 
 229 
 
 r, Major 
 Lting the 
 unity he 
 
 Lilias, 
 ; did not 
 emained 
 
 .n oppor- 
 bject, as 
 ed at the 
 g, shown 
 id a con- 
 dly have 
 
 1 indeed 
 last few 
 
 5 military 
 physical 
 lis being 
 smplative 
 ife, gave 
 mount of 
 ;ageously 
 
 to grow 
 He spoke 
 :h of the 
 ler than 
 
 such ill- 
 
 authorized reports. Percival could not resist the convic- 
 tion which Ernest's emphatic repudiation of the whole 
 charge brought home to his reluctant mind. And the 
 generosity and sense of justice which, after all, he pos- 
 sessed when his better nature prevailed, impelled him 
 frankly to own that he had been in the wrong, and to 
 promise spontaneously the reparation of expressing to 
 Major Meredith and Lilias his conviction that the whole 
 story was utterly baseless. 
 
 But it was some time before his military engagements 
 would permit him to see either Lilias or her father, — the 
 latter being at Newark, while Percival was engaged in 
 moving from place to place along the frontier, trying to 
 trace, as far as possible, the movements of the enemy. 
 And a natural reluctance for the self-imposed task made 
 him less energetic in seeking an opportunity, and even in 
 seeking the society of Lilias, than he might otherwise have 
 been. Even Marjorie had remarked, somewhat discon- 
 tentedly, how seldom they saw Captain Percival now, and, 
 with much more discontent, that they never saw Ernest 
 Heathcote at all ! It was strange how times of war altered 
 people, she said, with a rather hasty generalization. It 
 seemed the more strange, because Ernest was, by the end 
 of September, bivouacked with his company at Queenston 
 Heights, which became the centre of interest about the 
 first or second week of October. 
 
 Early on the morning of the ninth of that month, the 
 
 I 'I 
 
FOR KINO AND COITNTRY. 
 
 British brig of war "Detroit" and the private brig 
 " Caledonia" were boarded and captured opposite Fort 
 Erie by Lieutenant Elliott, of the American Navy, who 
 wa6 then at Black Rock engaged in fitting out schooners 
 for the American service on Lake Erie ; a work which 
 could hardly have been carried out in General Brock's 
 close vicinity had he not so unfortunately been restricted to 
 defensive measures. The brig of war was carrying down 
 forty prisoners of war, with some cannon, small arms and 
 shot, — all results of the capture of Detroit ; the " Caledonia" 
 was laden with furs belonging to the North-West Com- 
 pany. The American attacking force, including the forty 
 prisoners, who of course joined their countrymen, amounted 
 to 140, while the crews of the brigs, consisting of Canadian 
 seamen and militia, numbered less than half their assail- 
 antSi The "Caledonia" was carried off to Black Rock 
 and her cargo secured, but the operation of the Canadian 
 batteries compelled the captors to run the " Detroit" 
 aground on Squaw Island. There she lay till evening, 
 when, just as General Brock, who reached the spot soon 
 aita: sunset, was making arrangements to recover her, she 
 was boarded by the enemy and set on fire. 
 
 Captain Percival, who had accompanied General Brock 
 and his staff to the spot, stood near the General, as the lurid 
 flames that quickly wrapped the devoted brig rose vividly 
 red in the soft dimness of the early twilight, against the 
 dark outlines of the American shore, almost neutralizing 
 
A SUNSET MEETING. 
 
 331 
 
 the still pale light of the young October moon. The little 
 knot of officers looked on with grave faces. They knew 
 that this disaster meant a good deal to them in the critical 
 position of affairs. It was not only the material loss of 
 vessels and arms, though that was much in the country's 
 present need ; but also the encouragement which the affair 
 must give to the Americans, who had been exerting them- 
 selves to the utmost to gain a naval superiority on the 
 lakes ; and who would receive from this success fresh 
 hopes and stimulus to immediate invasion. General Brock 
 felt, as he wrote shortly after, that " the event is particu- 
 larly unfortunate, and may reduce us to incalculable dis- 
 tress." However, his mind soon turned to the brighter side. 
 " It is one consolation, at least," he said, " that the brig 
 has escaped the enemy ! Certainly his conduct after his 
 first essay has not entitled him to so rich a prize." 
 
 Then, to cheer up somewhat the drooping spirits of his 
 comrades, he changed the subject to the victor) of Sala- 
 manca, news of which had just arrived, and which, with its 
 bearing on the war in Spain, the little party proceeded to 
 discuss as they turned to seek their quarters for the night 
 at Fort Erie. 
 
 This naval success did, as the General had foreboded, 
 greatly increase the eagerness of the American troops for 
 invasion, and the impatience of the men to " clear out 
 the British frontier right oft." Foreseeing this, General 
 Prock wrote copious instructions to the ofticers command- 
 
 m 
 
2*32 
 
 FOR KING AND COtJNTRY. 
 
 ing at the different frontier posts, explaining probable 
 points of attack and the best method of procedure in 
 the event of its taking place. In these instructions he 
 made the remark justified by the events of the war : " If 
 we weigh well the character of our enemy, we shall find 
 him more disposed to brave the impediments of nature, 
 when they afford him a probability of accomplishing his 
 end by surprise, in preference to the certainty of encoun- 
 tering British troops ready formed for his reception." 
 
 These instructions had been barely issued when the 
 attempted attack of the eleventh, at Queenston, which 
 failed by reason of lack of boats, and wet, tempestuous 
 weather, showed the enemy's intention of speedily bringing 
 matters to a crisis. The inmates of Dunlathmon were of 
 course anxiously watching the progress of affairs, prepared 
 in case of need to take refuge at Fort George ; an extreme 
 contingency, however, of which they would hardly admit 
 the possibility. The rainy, gloomy weather, too, of the 
 eleventh, and the morning of the twelfth, seemed to 
 increase the weight of anxiety that rested on their spirits. 
 On the afternoon of the latter, however, the rain ceased, 
 and the sun broke out in soft October brilliancy from a 
 background of pale blue sky and softest purple cloud. 
 The dim haze of an Indian summer rested tHth an ideal* 
 Izing grace on the gorgeous tints of the forest, making 
 gold and crimson blend together in the most exquisite con- 
 fusion of rich and delicate hues. As the evening drew on, 
 
A SUNSET MEETI^JG. 
 
 135 
 
 a blood-red sun, looming softly crimson through the inter- 
 vening haze, sank slowly among horizontal bars of rosy 
 and purple sunset clouds, — darting long level rays of ruddy 
 light through the pine trees of Dunlathmon, which looked 
 duskier than ever in contrast with the rest of the gor- 
 geously tinted woods, and suffusing the gnarled trunks in 
 its way with a rich ruby glow. 
 
 Lilias had wandered out alone in the sunset, to tran- 
 quillize the nervous agitation she was feeling by a solitary 
 walk among the soothing influences of nature, which has 
 always a word for the troubled heart, if it will listen. She 
 carried with her her little pocket Testament, in which she 
 liked at times to read some of the cheering words of hope 
 and comfort which, spoken beside the lilies of Jordan, or 
 amid the storm-tossed waves of the Sea of Galilee, or under 
 the olives of Bethany, come with so soothing a message to 
 the anxious and suffering, and often seem to glow forth 
 brightly, like "the bow in the cloud," from the deepest 
 shades of outward darkness. For, now that a critical 
 moment was believed to be imminent, — that a few hours 
 might imperil the lives of those she loved best, visions of 
 what might be would haunt her aching sight ; would weigh 
 down her heart with sickening fear and suspense, which 
 needed a higher than human comfort to lighten it. She 
 had come out on the avenue near the gate, and was pro- 
 ceeding slowly towards the house, enjoying the sweet soft- 
 ness of the air, laden with the peculiar autumn scent of the 
 
334 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 dying leaves, when she heard a horse's hoofs behind her, 
 and, turning, she saw Captain Percival, mounted on Hector, 
 galloping up. He dismounted when he reached her, and 
 walked slowly on by her side, his horse's bridle thrown 
 over his arm. 
 
 He explained at once that his errand was principally 
 to see her ; ancf then, that he might swallow the bitter pill 
 of reparation as speedily as possible, he plunged at once 
 into a rapid explanation of his promise to clear Heathcote 
 from an unjust charge which he had, unwitting of its injus- 
 tice, brought against him. 
 
 Lilias' cheek flushed deeply as he proceeded, and she 
 listened silently with downcast eyes, feeling as if the frank 
 reparation almost more than cancelled the offence. When 
 he paused she thanked him briefly, and ventured, though 
 with some effort, to ask whether he had given the same 
 explanation to her father. 
 
 " Yes," he replied, " I did so some days ago. I might 
 have left it to him to tell you. But," he added, in a tone 
 of such earnest gravity that she could hardly believe it 
 to be the careless Percival who spoke, " this is a time for 
 settling old scores, for no one knows where he may be by 
 this time to-morrow. Possibly," he added in a lighter 
 tone, " food for the American eagle." 
 
 " You think, then, that there is going to be an attack ?" 
 said Lilias, in a voice which she tried in v'ain to keep froni 
 being slightly tremulous, 
 
A SUNSKT MEETING. 
 
 235 
 
 " I am sure of it. In fact, it is inevitable. The Ameri- 
 cans must do something to keep the troops in good 
 humour. We should have had them over yesterday if 
 they had had boats, and I see they have a good many now. 
 I am on my way to Newark now, to apprise the General 
 that he must be ready for an early start." 
 
 Lilias was silent. So many thoughts and emotions 
 were crowding upon her mind that she did not find it 
 easy to speak. 
 
 Presently Captain Percival continued, in a tone that 
 sought to conceal emotion by an appearance of careless- 
 ness , — "So I thought I should like to see you again. Miss 
 Meredith. It may be a long good-bye, you know." 
 
 " I hope not," said Lilias, with frank earnestness. 
 
 " Oh, as for that," he replied, in the same would-be 
 careless tone, " I don't expect any one to care for me, even 
 if I do serve my country by presenting it with my life ! 
 The poorest volunteer that falls will cause mourning 
 enough ; but who will care for the British soldier ? He is 
 only * doing his duty ! '" 
 
 Lilias felt throroughly pained at the bitter, almost reck- 
 less tone in which he concluded his speech, and hastened 
 to say the only soothing thing she could think of. 
 
 " I know there will be some who will care," she said, 
 gently. She was thinking of a letter she had recently 
 received from her cousin, in which she could clearly see 
 that the uppermost thought was Gaptain Percival and his 
 
 
235 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 welfare, although the writer had evidently tried to conceal 
 it, and seemed to think she had succeeded. 
 
 Captain Percival's expression changed, instantly, to one 
 of eager interest, and he bent forward and said, in a low 
 tone of peculiar meaning — 
 
 " If I could hope that you cared. Miss Meredith, it 
 would make life a different thing to me ! I think I might 
 be tempted to grudge it to my country yet ! " 
 
 His tone and manner forced upon Lilias, with a quick 
 pang of pained surprise, his unmistakeable meaning. In 
 her agitation and embarrassment, and her eagerness to 
 undeceive him, she rushed into an explanation which she 
 would otherwise scarcely have ventured upon, saying 
 hurriedly — 
 
 " I meant — I was thinking of— my cousin Marian ; I 
 thought" — but here she stopped. She could not bring 
 herself to explain farther. 
 
 Captain Percival's face fell. It was his turn now to 
 be surprised. 
 
 " Thought — that I cared for your cousin ? Lilias ! — 
 Miss Meredith ! how did you take up such an impression ? " 
 
 " I hardly know ; I beg your pardon," Lilias repUed, in 
 a low tone. 
 
 Captain Percival was silent for a few moments, then he 
 began resolutely — somewhat bitterly : 
 
 " I will tell you frankly. I did care for your cousin 
 once ; nay, was fool enough to think she cared for me / 
 
A SUNSET MEETING. 
 
 237 
 
 im now to 
 
 But she treated me in such a way as compelled me to 
 think I was mistaken, so I gave her up, once and for all. 
 I did not care that she should have the triumph of a 
 scornful rejection, and so — saved her the trouble ! " 
 
 " But you may have mistaken her," said Lihas, in a 
 low tone. " Indeed, I think you must have done so !" 
 
 " Not likely. You don't know your cousin. Miss 
 Meredith, and I do ! But I know I am not mistaken in 
 thinking that the man that wins yoti will be a happy one ! 
 Is there no hope for me, Lilias ?" he said in a voice almost 
 inaudible from agitation, for something in the girl's look 
 and manner dashed all his hopes. 
 
 Lilias could find no words. Her heart sank at the pain 
 she felt she must give. She could only shake her head 
 faintly with averted glance. 
 
 " But, — if there is no one else !" he persisted, "there 
 might be hope for me in time, that is, if the chance of 
 war spares my life. With the hope of having you by my 
 side, my life would be something different from what it 
 has ever been before ! " 
 
 Lilias' heart throbbed painfully, and her face burned 
 with the hot colour that suffused it. There I'jas some one 
 else, but how could she avow to him a preference uncon- 
 fessed to the object of it, — nay, the avowal of which had 
 never been asked for by the one most concerned ! 
 
 But he understood her silence. "Then it is so," he 
 said gloomily. " I might have known ! It would be idle 
 
338 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 ii 
 
 to say I envy him. Well, perhaps it is so much the better I 
 Now I can do my duty all the more freely, not tempted by 
 any desire of preserving a life for which there Mrill be no 
 one to mourn, since I have no friend who cares enough for 
 me to regret me particularly !" 
 
 "There will,'' exclaimed Lilias, earnestly ; "my father 
 is your warm friend, and I too ! and besides. Captain Per- 
 cival," she said, timidly, but as though compelled by a 
 strong impulse, — " you have another Friend, who cares for 
 you more than any one else could do." 
 
 He understood her meaning, and replied gravely, "Not 
 for me, for I have never cared for Him ! I know you do, 
 for I have noticed more than you think ; and so, I am sure, 
 does General Brock ; and sc did my mother, as I can 
 remember, though it is long since she died. But I have 
 never cared to think of these things. Why, Miss Mere- 
 dith, I hardly ever open a Bible, and to begin now, when 
 death may be at hand, would seem cowardly. No, it is 
 too late for me now ! " 
 
 " It is never too late," — exclaimed Lilias emphatically, 
 forced out of all shyness and self-consciousness by the 
 strong feeling of the moment. " If you had an earthly 
 friend who loved you more than you could think, but whom 
 you had misunderstood and neglected, would it not be 
 the best reparation you could make, just to go and tell 
 him so, and how sorry you were ? And He always wants 
 us to return to Him, however late it may be ! He never 
 
A SUNSET MEETING. 
 
 239 
 
 Casts out any one who will come to Him. Captain Perci- 
 val," she added, half-hesitatingly taking from her pocket 
 the little Testament she had been reading, " won't you 
 take this and read some of His own words for yourself?" 
 
 Percival's face had softened while she spoke ; she had 
 touched chords that had responded — feelings long lying 
 dormant. " I will — for your sake, at any rate ; " he said, 
 as he took the little book ? " and perhaps it may do me 
 more good than I think. Thank you a thousand times for 
 all your kindness to me, which I did not deserve," he 
 added, as he thought of the pain he must have caused her 
 by prejudicing her father against Ernest. " And now, 
 good-bye ! you will never know all the good you have done 
 me, even if " 
 
 He did not unish his sentence ; but he stooped and 
 kissed her hand, which he had taken and was holding 
 in his. In her sympathy and compassion for him she 
 allowed him to hold it unresistingly. In after years she 
 was glad of this, as of every kinr' less she had ever shown 
 him; but that night, within half an hour, she bitterly 
 regretted it. For neither Percival nor she had seen a 
 figure which was approaching them from the direction of 
 the house, on which they had turned their backs — the 
 figure of Ernest Heathcote, who, longing too for one last 
 word with Lilias before the expected engagement, aftor 
 the long interval of suspended intercourse, had walked 
 across to Dunlathmon by a short cut through the woods, 
 
■ 
 
 240 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 and had been told he should find Lilias somewhere about 
 the grounds. When he came in sight of her whom he 
 sought, standing with her hand in Percival's, he stopped, 
 struck by a sudden pang ; but when he saw Percival raise 
 her hand to his lips, he waited no longer, but striking off 
 for the short cut by which he had come, was quickly 
 out of sight, feeling as if all that made life worth having 
 was over for him for ever. 
 
 Captain Percival said no more, but mounted his horse 
 in silence and rode off, slowly and sadly, with a respectful 
 salute. LiHas turned and walked slowly to the house, her 
 mind still full of the agitating interview just over, and the 
 regret it had awakened. Was she sorTy, after all, that 
 she could not love this man, in many respects so attrac- 
 tive — so fitted to realize the ideal of a maiden's fancy ? 
 Perhaps any true-hearted girl must always feel something 
 of this regret when a deep and honest affection, whose 
 worth she can fully appreciate, has been laid at her. feet in 
 vain ! But her heart was unshakenly true to the thought 
 of Ernest, whose image lay enshrined in its depths too 
 deep for any passing ripple of feeling to afTect. 
 
 As she entered the house Marjorie met her. " Have 
 you not seen Ernest Heathcote ?" she said. " He went 
 out to look for you." 
 
 " Ernest ! " exclaimed Lilias. " Was he here .? " 
 "Yes, just a few minutes ago; he went to find you. If 
 you came by the avenue, you must have pnet him," 
 
A SUNSET MEETING. 
 
 241 
 
 re about 
 horn he 
 stopped, 
 iral raise 
 ■iking off 
 quickly 
 ti having 
 
 his horse 
 respectful 
 lOUse, her 
 r, and the 
 all, that 
 so attrac- 
 I's fancy? 
 lomething 
 »n, whose 
 ler. feet in 
 |e thought 
 lepths too 
 
 
 Lihas turned very white. A fear had taken possession 
 01 her which she could not shake off. She stood at the 
 door for a short time, vainly hoping to discover Ernest in 
 the distance. At last that hope failed. He must have 
 seen her with Captain Percival, and she could divine the 
 impression under which he had gone away without dis- 
 turbing them. It was too much ; and, overstrained by the 
 double agitation, she rushed to her room and gave way to 
 a burst of bitter tears. It was hard ! The morrow with 
 all its uncertainties, — and no opportunity of a single word 
 of explanation or farewell ; with the added pain of feeling 
 that Ernest, under a false impression, might be suffering 
 even more than she was. 
 
 As the tvilight drew on, Major Meredith came in to 
 talk gravely with Colonel McLeod over the prospects of 
 the morrow, and as all were full of the deep anxieties of the 
 time, no one noticed or wondered at Lilias' pale, tear- 
 stained face. But she did not mention her interview with 
 Captain Percival, even to Marjorie. 
 
 « Have 
 He went 
 
 I?" 
 you. 
 
 If 
 
 16 
 
342 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 QUEENSTON HEIGHTS. 
 
 " They bore him bare-faced on the bier, 
 And on his grave rains many a tear, 
 For he is dead — 
 He never will come again." 
 
 THE morning of the thirteenth of October, 1812, rose 
 fair and bright, with almost the softness and warmth 
 of a June morning in the balmy air, misty with the soft, 
 exquisite haze of Indian summer. Through it, seen from 
 the American shore, the bold ridge of Queenston Heights 
 gleamed with a glory of colour not usually its own, the 
 rugged rocks, besprent with rich dashes of crimson, gold 
 and purple, the oak's rich shades of russet and crimson, the 
 golden tresses of the birch, and the scarlet glow of the 
 maple, the brilliant hues of the sumach burning in blood- 
 red crimson and gold, and the deeper, even more gor- 
 geous tints of the Virginia Creeper, hanging in rich festoons 
 over the rough, dark precipices, soon to be dyed with stains 
 of a more fatal and ominous crimson. 
 
 For, even before the first early sunbeams had pierced 
 through the haze and lighted up the glowing tints of forest 
 and cliff, a number of small boats had silently stolen 
 
QUEENSTON HEIGHTS. 
 
 243 
 
 [812, rose 
 d warmth 
 li the soft, 
 seen from 
 1 Heights 
 
 own, the 
 ison, gold 
 ,mson, the 
 
 w of the 
 
 in blood- 
 ore gor- 
 festoons 
 
 ith stains 
 
 |d pierced 
 of forest 
 lly stolen 
 
 across in the grey dawn, from the American shore, and 
 the "forlorn hope" of the invaders, under Colonel Van 
 Rensselaer, had made good their landing on Canadian 
 ground. More and more troops followed, till, with very 
 little loss, considerably more than a thousand American 
 Soldiers and militia confronted the small British force at 
 the outposts. The fire of two eighteen-pounders artd 
 some smaller field-pieces on the American side covered 
 the passage of the boats and prevented its being effectually 
 opposed ; but, once landed, all further progress was des- 
 perately resisted, and the hoarse rattle of musketry blended 
 with the firm tones of the British words of command, the 
 sturdy British cheer, the groans of the fallen, and the 
 rallying cry of the American officers -" On men ! on! for 
 the honour of America ; " while over all boomed at inter- 
 vals the Sullen thunder of the British eighteen-pounder on 
 a spur of the heights, and a carronade a mile or so below. 
 Van Rensselaer was soon desperately wounded, as well as 
 others on both ::ides, of names less known. All was con- 
 fusion, — grim hand-to-hand fighting, — blind, desperatfc 
 struggle to gain or keep the strong position, when General 
 Brock, who had been aroused at Fort George by the first 
 sound of firing, galloped up on his gallant charger Alfred, 
 at the head of his suite, and, passing up the hill in front 
 of the Ught company, and under a heavy fire of artillery and 
 musketry, never drew rein until he had reached the field- 
 work, where he dismounted to survey through his telescope 
 the aspect of the engagement. 
 
244 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 But a volley from a height above, gallantly gained by a 
 small detachment of the enemy which had reached it unob- 
 served, interrupted his survey, and drove him and his 
 suite, without time to remount, from the vicinity of the 
 battery. A British detachment charged the adventurous 
 Americans, who being driven back, charged again ; and hi 
 the confused struggle which followed, assailants and 
 assailed were driven pell-mell to the very edge of the pre- 
 cipice, with the rushing river sheer beneath. There, some 
 of the American officers, appalled by the situation, were on 
 the point of raising the white flag of surrender. But Cap- 
 tain Wool, who had led the party up the height, tore it 
 down, and rallied his discouraged troops to renewed exer- 
 tions. 
 
 A fierce hand-to-hand struggle followed. For general- 
 ship and military tactics there was neither room nor oppor- 
 tunity. All that General Brock could do at such a crisis 
 was to fight like one of his own officers, and press on, — con- 
 spicuous as he was by his dress, height and bearing, — as 
 might have been expected of one who had said : "How can 
 I expect the men to follow where I am afraid to lead ?" It 
 has been thought that his military ardour transported him 
 beyond all considerations of prudence or caution ; yet, 
 ardent, unhesitating devotion to a cause is often of far 
 more avail than a more prudential course ; and a failure 
 on his part to set the example of fearless self-devotion 
 might have been disastrous to the fortunes of the day. He 
 
QUKENSTON HEIGHTS. 
 
 245 
 
 led by a 
 it unob- 
 and his 
 y of the 
 enturous 
 n ; and hi 
 ants and 
 ■ the pre- 
 ere, some 
 i, were on 
 But Cap- 
 tit, tore it 
 wed exer- 
 
 r general- 
 lor oppor- 
 h a crisis 
 on, — con- 
 iring, — as 
 How can 
 lead?" It 
 orted him 
 tion; yet, 
 en of far 
 I a failure 
 devotion 
 day. He 
 
 was pointing to the hill, and the words "Push on the 
 York Volunteers ! " were on his lips, when a ball, too 
 well directed, struck him in the right breast, and laid low 
 the hope and stay of Canada, and as brave and heroic a 
 leader as ever bled for Britain on any world-renowned 
 battle-field. The comparative obscurity of the campaign 
 in which he fell has prevented his name from being widely 
 known to fame, but it has long been enshrined as a precious 
 memory by the grateful people amidst whom was sacrificed 
 a life so noble, and to them, as it seemed at the time, so 
 indispensable. 
 
 During most of that October day the sanguinary con- 
 test went on, among the beetling precipices and the many- 
 hued foliage, above which curled the significant blue 
 wreaths of smoke, and resounded the rattle of musketry. 
 During an interval after the fall of Brock, and that of his 
 gallant aide-de-camp, Colonel McDonell, who was struck 
 down in leading the York Volunteers up the hill in obe- 
 dience to the General's last words, there was a lull of some 
 hours, during which the Americans retained their exposed 
 and dangerous post on the hill, while the little body of 
 British troops drew up on the outskirts of the village to 
 await reinforcements. General Sheaflfe was already far 
 on his way from Fort George, at the head of some three 
 hundred regulars of the 41st and 49th, two companies of 
 militia and some Indians, when he heard the sad tidings 
 of the fall of his chief, which urged him forward with fresh 
 
 1:1 
 
 
 ^1 
 
p^. FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 ^^gerness to avenge so terrible a loss. He brought his 
 troops out on the heights about two miles to the west of 
 Queenston, in order to outflank and hem in the Americans, 
 whose comrades in arms on the other shore declined to 
 reinforce them in their critical position on the hill — with 
 precipitous crags and the river behind them, and a semi- 
 circle of foes gradually closing in around. On arriving at 
 the heights, Sheaffc's forces were joined by Brant and 
 Norton with their Indian followers, and some two hundred 
 volunteer militia from Chippawa. The British and Cana- 
 dian forces were about eight hundred now, — opposed to 
 nearly double the number of Americans, who fought gal- 
 lantly even when, at last, they felt that they fought 
 hopelessly. For British pluck and Canadian patriotism 
 could hardly fail, in such circumstances, to triumph, even 
 over superior numbers ; and at last, amid the clouds of 
 invoke ajid dust that almost screened the battle from 
 yifiWi — amid Indian yells, fierce shouts and execrations, 
 groans and outcries, the irresistible impulse of the con- 
 quering force bore down the last desperate charge of the 
 ^nvaders, and the survivors were compelled to rapid or 
 rather headlong retreat. Had Brock lived, the terrors 
 and the slaughter of that retreat would not, in all proba- 
 bility, have been nearly so great. But his unbounded 
 influence over his Indicin allies was missed already, and 
 many a life, which might otherwise have been spared, was 
 sacrificed by the exasperated warriors out of vengeance for 
 
QUKENSTON HEIGHTS. 
 
 247 
 
 ight his 
 west of 
 ericans, 
 lined to 
 11— with 
 a semi- 
 iving at 
 ant and 
 hundred 
 d Cana- 
 Dosed to 
 ight gal- 
 T fought 
 itriotism 
 Dh, even 
 louds of 
 tie from 
 :rations, 
 :he con- 
 e of the 
 apid or 
 : terrors 
 1 proba- 
 aounded 
 dy, and 
 red, was 
 ance for 
 
 the lamented loss of the British commander. To escape 
 these dreaded enemies, many, cut off in attempting a 
 retreat, threw themselves over the cliffs, and, losing their 
 hold of the bushes to which they clung, were dashed to 
 pieces on the rocks below. Others, who gained the bank 
 of the river, took to it in despair, and were drowned in 
 endeavouring to swim across. 
 
 On the bank of the river, near where the Suspension 
 Bridge has hung so long, the unconditional surrender was 
 at last offered, which made General Wadsworth and 
 ♦Colonel Scott with the surviving remnant of the Ameri- 
 can force, — about eleven hundred men, — prisoners of war, 
 and, for the present, ended the invasion. 
 
 The family at Dunlathmon had been aroused at day- 
 break by the sullen sound of firing and the rattle of mus- 
 ketry. Colonel McLeod and Major Meredith, who had 
 been there all night, mounted and rode off in haste, accom- 
 panied by the lads, eager to see and participate in the fray. 
 The female portion of the household, who had dressed 
 hastily to bid the hurried, agitated " good-byes," made a 
 pretence of gathering around a comfortless breakfast-table 
 but to eat was impossible ; the smallest morsel seemed to 
 choke them. The long morning seemed interminable. 
 The hours told by an old-fashioned sand-glass — for clocks 
 were then a rare luxury in Canada, and the Colonel's 
 cumbrous watch was the only time-piece of the family, — 
 
 * Afterwards the well-known General Scott- 
 
 
348 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 seemed so long that they looked again and again to 
 assure themselves that the sand had not stopped running. 
 Lilias wandered, arm-in-arm with Marjorie, about the 
 grounds, trying to soothe the latter's excitement, which was 
 uncontrollable ; for she believed that she possessed some- 
 thing of the old Highland gift of " second sight," and was 
 seized with a dire presentiment that General Brock would 
 fall. They knew that the action must be a serious one, 
 judgii^g by the constant sound of the cannon and musketry ; 
 and the cannonade which was raking the river just below 
 them was, icr a time, almost incessant. When they could 
 bear the ominous sounds no longer, they would try to 
 escape from it partially by retreating into the house, 
 where Mrs. McLeod sat, dismally enlarging upon the 
 miseries of the situation, and wondering what they should 
 do in case the Americans should effect a footing in the 
 country, and how soon they should have to fly. The cir- 
 cumstance that so many precious lives were at stake was 
 ignored, however, in words at least, by common consent. 
 Present as it could not but be to their minds and hearts, 
 they could not have borne to admit the fact in so many 
 words. " I do wish your father would come and tell us 
 how things are going on," — Mrs. McLeod would reiterate ; 
 and no one would have suggested, for the world, that there 
 was the slightest doubt as to his coming at last. Some- 
 times, when Lilias felt as if she could keep quiet no k 
 she would betake herself to the solitude of her own i 
 
 a, 
 
:ain to 
 inning, 
 ut the 
 Ich was 
 I some- 
 ,nd was 
 : would 
 us one, 
 sketry ; 
 t below 
 y could 
 try to 
 house, 
 3on the 
 ' should 
 in the 
 The cir- 
 ike was 
 :onsent. 
 hearts, 
 many 
 tell us 
 iterate ; 
 It there 
 Some- 
 
 QUEENSTON HEIGHTS. 249 
 
 to seek the relief of tears and silent prayer. But Flora, 
 whose playfulness had given way to pale and tearful terror, 
 was sure to seek her out there, to claim for the hundredth 
 time the wished-for assurance that " God would take care 
 of her father and brothers." 
 
 At last came the first news from the field. Angus, the 
 younger boy, rode home with a message from his father, 
 and tidings which they were too fearful to ask. We know 
 what fatal news he bore. For though it was General 
 Brock's last wish that his fall should be kept secret from 
 his men, his personal friends soon heard of it, and Colonel 
 McLeod had been by his side at the time he breathed his 
 last. Marjorie spoke not a word when she heard the sad 
 tidings, but rushed away to shut herself up alone ; and 
 Lihas, with the true consideration which her own heart 
 taught her, left her alone. To herself, indeed, the 
 tidings were heavy enough. It seemed so stunning, so 
 impossible, that he who had been at once the head and 
 the animating spirit of the country's defence, — its trusted 
 bulwark in a troublous time, — a leader so firm, so able, 
 so successful, and but that morning so relied on, was no 
 more — had passed away utterly, in a moment, from the 
 country he guarded, from the soldiers he led ! The young 
 MrT.eods almost lost the sense of the public loss in that 
 the revered and beloved friend ; but Lilias, who had 
 w known him so intimately, felt even more for the blow 
 »*nich his death must be to the country at such a crisis. 
 
9SO 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 When at last she ventured to intrude on Marjorie's privacy, 
 she found that the girl, worn out by the morning's excite- 
 ment, had sobbed herself to sleep, her favourite Ossian 
 beside her, open at Malvina's lament for her lost hero. 
 Lilias closed and removed it gently, determined that it 
 should be out of sight for the pres' nt ; and left in its place 
 another book of poems, open at words which contain the 
 only true consolation in such times of extremity, when 
 " human helpers fail and comforts flee : " — 
 
 " God is our refuge and strength ; a very present help in trouble." 
 
 Then she darkened the room as much as possible, and 
 left it softly, that Marjorie might enjoy the longer the sleep 
 which is often the best balm for a mourner. 
 
 At last "time and the hour wore through" the long 
 anxious day of suspense and dread, and as the early even- 
 ing closed in, the young McLeods, with the exception of 
 the eldest, returned unhurt. They brought the intelligence 
 that Major Meredith and their eldest brother had been 
 wounded — not dangerously, however — and that their father 
 had remained to watch over their comfort, as well as that 
 of another friend, fatally wounded, and suffering ten'ibly, — 
 poor Colonel McDonell, General Brock's brave young 
 aide-de-camp, who died next day. Colonel McLeod, who 
 was to dine with General Sheafife and the American Gen- 
 eral at the quarters of the latter, would stay all night with 
 the invalids, and would have them carefully conveyed 
 home on the following morning. Meanwhile, old Dinah 
 
 I 
 
QUEENSTON HEIGHTS. 
 
 251 
 
 invacy, 
 excite- 
 Ossian 
 it hero, 
 that it 
 ts place 
 tain the 
 y, when 
 
 iblc." 
 
 ble, and 
 he sleep 
 
 :he long 
 ly even- 
 
 iption of 
 
 diligence 
 
 id been 
 
 ir father 
 
 as that 
 
 ribly,— 
 
 young 
 
 |od, who 
 
 m Gen- 
 
 jht with 
 
 )nveyed 
 
 Dinah 
 
 
 was despatched with black Caesar to carry to the invalids 
 all the comforts that could be extemporised for them, and 
 to give to them, and any one else who might come in her 
 way, the benefits of her good nursing. Marjorie and 
 Lilias would gladly have gone too, but they knew that it 
 was quite out of the question, and so did not even sug- 
 gest it. 
 
 Of Percival and Heathcote the lads knew nothing, 
 except that they had seen the former's company charging 
 in the last fierce onset, and were sure that he was not in 
 command. Payne, however, they had seen lying on the 
 field, quite dead, where the fallen lay closest. But they 
 spared the sickened hearts of their hearers any details of 
 what they had seen on the blood-stained battle-ground. 
 There, — amid rock and fern, under the quiet stars and the 
 moon brightening through the hazy air, as the twilight 
 descended over height and river, blending all objects into 
 the same dusky hues, — lay many a strong manly form, the 
 cherished pride and darling of a distant home, or the prop 
 and stay of an unconscious household, stricken down by 
 the death which had come in the iron shower, or at the 
 bayonet's edge, in the mad rush of the hot conflict. The 
 Americans, doubtless, believed that they were fighting 
 for the national honour, and many had bravely won a 
 soldier's honourable death. The fallen British soldiers 
 deserved as much honour from their country as any 
 who fell on the famous Continental battle-fields of 
 
 I! 
 
252 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 
 those eventful years ; and none of the troops who, almost 
 at that very time, were retiring discomfited from the hard- 
 fought siege of Burgos had more faithfully borne out their 
 country's high traditions of military glory. The Canadians 
 who freely imperilled their lives there for King and Coun- 
 try, patriotically anxious to do their duty to both, and to 
 protect the land which they claimed as their own — although 
 history knows them not, and even the conflict in which 
 they fell is almost unknown to fame, — were, many of them, 
 as self-sacrificingly brave as the men who fought at 
 Thermopylae, or those who afterwards won the field of 
 Waterloo. And, though they sleep now in silent or name- 
 less graves, they have left to their country an imperishable 
 memory, that may well thrill and reproach and arouse it, 
 should it ever degenerately sink into a slothful or a craven 
 policy, or into the deeper baseness of national corruption. 
 Few at Dunlathmon slept much that night ; and Lilias, 
 anxious and unable to rest, was on the watch next morn- 
 ing for her father's arrival long before it could possibly 
 take place. She could not feel sure that he was not 
 seriously wounded till she had seen him for herself. Of 
 Ernest she had as yet heard nothing, and she was heart- 
 sick from suspense. She could not ask about him, and if 
 she could there was no one who could have given her any 
 tidings. Weary with longing, and physically worn out 
 with suspense and inward agitation, she was slowly walk- 
 ing along the avenue, ever watching for the expected 
 
i! 
 
 QUEENSTON HEIGHTS. 
 
 353 
 
 ilmost 
 hard- 
 t their 
 idians 
 Coun- 
 and to 
 hough 
 which 
 fthem, 
 ght at 
 [ield of 
 name- 
 ishable 
 ouse it, 
 . craven 
 uption. 
 Lilias, 
 morn- 
 )ossibly 
 vas not 
 f. Of 
 heart- 
 and if 
 ler any 
 )rn out 
 y walk- 
 xpected 
 
 arrival. Suddenly a slight rustle among the fallen leaves 
 made her turn her head, and she saw, through a mist that 
 seemed to gather over her eyes, — Ernest, — apparently safe 
 and well ! The reaction after the preceding strain was 
 too much. She grew white and dizzy, wavered, and seemed 
 as if she would have fallen had not Ernest rushed forward 
 to support her. Neither of them could ever quite tell how 
 it was ; in the excitement of the meeting the tide of feeling 
 overleapt all ordinary barriers of conventionality, and they 
 met, clasped in a warm, glad embrace. The relief of the 
 moment seemed to wipe out every other thought than that 
 they were together again, — all distmst and estrangement 
 over, — and in the full, irrepresssible, mutual consciousness 
 of a strong overpowering affection. 
 
 Ernest had hurried on by a short cut leading him into 
 the grounds through the woods. He had come, in no 
 small degree impelled by the strength of his own desire to 
 see Lilias, but also with the good excuse of acting as the 
 herald of the invalids, that everything might be ready for 
 their reception. It was a good while before the course of 
 events could be disentangled from the rushing torrent of 
 question and answer. One thing Lilias did not hear from 
 Ernest, but afterwards from her father ; who gratefully 
 told her that, out for Ernest, " it would have been all over 
 with him." He had been separated from his comrades 
 and hemmed in, in a rocky angle, by two or three Ameri- 
 cstns \ and in a moment or two his ineffectual resistance 
 
BOBSBBI 
 
 ^54 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 must have left him at their mercy, when Ernest, who had 
 been trying during the whole action to keep in view that 
 familiar grey head, descried his danger and rushed to the 
 spot. Happily, he met in his way the Indian Black Hawk, 
 who never forgot the Major's kindness to his wife, and 
 who, when aware of his danger, joined in the rescue with 
 a fierce Indian yell before which the Major's assailants 
 gave way at once without waiting for the stroke that 
 followed ; and the brave old solder, faint with the loss of 
 blood from wounds in his arm and thigh, was at once 
 assisted by Ernest to reach a place of safety. 
 
 But Ernest had much to tell Lilias about Captain 
 Percival, though she did not hear all the particulars till 
 long afterwards. Towards evening, in going over the 
 deserted battle-field, Ernest had discovered him lying, 
 wounded and unconscious, half hidden among rocks and 
 foliage. Then there came to him a strong temptation, the 
 strongest he had ever encountered. There lay his former 
 enemy and his rival — as he believed, his successful rival, — 
 the man who had injured him in the estimation of those 
 for whose opinion he had cared the most ; who had stolen 
 from him, as he thought, the treasure that was dearer to 
 him than life ! Why should Ag be the man to care for 
 him, perhaps to save his life ? Why not leave him, at 
 least, to be cared for by others ? Why should he, of all 
 men, seek to preserve a life v xh he had no reason to 
 desire .-* Were Percival to die there, might not Lilias be 
 
QUEENSTON HEIGHTS. 
 
 255 
 
 'ho had 
 ew that 
 d to the 
 : Hawk, 
 ife, and 
 :ue wivh 
 isailants 
 >ke that 
 : loss of 
 at once 
 
 Captain 
 iilars till 
 aver the 
 n lying, 
 3cks and 
 tion, the 
 s former 
 
 rival, — 
 
 lof those 
 
 .d stolen 
 
 learer to 
 
 care for 
 
 him, at 
 le, of all 
 Uson to 
 
 ^ilias be 
 
 his yet ? All this flashed through his mind in a moment, 
 with lightning rapidity. All the bitterness of a tortured 
 heart, of crushed hope, rose up in him to give weight to 
 the suggestions of the tempter. Then came a flash of 
 purer light, and he shrank back, appalled, from the revela- 
 tion of himself. He uttered one strong inward cry for 
 help, — help to overcome himself; and the cry was answered, 
 as every such sincere, earnest appeal will be. Ernest 
 could never doubt, after that, the reality of the ever-present, 
 unseen, all-powerful Helper. In the silent victory which, 
 in those few moments, he won over the evil of his own 
 spirit, there was far mon of true heroism than in the reck- 
 less courage of despair with which he had been fighting all 
 day ; for it was the victory which, we are told, is better 
 than the taking of a city. But Ernest knew well that it 
 had not been gained through his own strength. 
 
 Hastily calling one of the surgeons to the spot, he care- 
 fully raised the unconscious Percival, and carried him, 
 with the surgeon's assistance, to the nearest cottage, where, 
 with some difficulty, he procured for him a comfortable 
 bed. The surgeon examined and dressed his wounds, 
 which he said must be fatal before many hours elapsed ; 
 and gradually Percival was restored, by means of stimu- 
 lants, to consciousness. 
 
 Then happened one of those strange coalitions which 
 soraetimes take place suddenly between natures which 
 have seemed mutually antagonistic, provided there it a 
 
356 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 I ; 
 
 basis of nobility of character in both ; when the underlying 
 sympathy overcomes the surface antagonism, and the 
 mutual repulsion changes into mutual attraction, as each 
 recognizes and appreciates what is good in the other. 
 There were mutual explanations, and Percival, touched 
 to the quick by the kind care of his formerly despised 
 rival, told him enough of his own position with regard to 
 Lilias to relieve '^rnest from the haunting thought that had 
 oppressed him during the past night and day, prompting 
 him to expose his life on the field with a recklessness that 
 made his escape with a slight wound seem really wonderful, 
 and strengthened his belief in the ever-watchful Provi- 
 dence that constantly "shapes our ends, rough-hew them 
 as we will." 
 
 That solemn night spent beside the dying officer left 
 its influence with Ernest all his life. They spoke, at inter- 
 vals, of things about which men in health and vigour 
 usually converse too little : of the transitoriness of things 
 seen, and of the dark unknown into which the life of the 
 one was passing; and Ernest, at Percival's request, read 
 to him from the Testament which Lilias had given him, 
 some of the passages which tell most plainly of the Chris- 
 tian faith and hope which alone can light up that dark 
 abyss. Percival's mind had been led of late to penetrate 
 deeper, beyond the painted outside show which had made 
 his world, than his careless spirit had ever done before. 
 General Brock's example had shown him that a man may 
 
QUEENSTON HEIGHTS. 
 
 257 
 
 rlying 
 d the 
 ; each 
 other, 
 uched 
 spised 
 jard to 
 at had 
 mpting 
 ss that 
 iderful, 
 Provi- 
 V them 
 
 do a soldier's duty all the more bravely and faithfully for 
 having a higher aim than that of earthly glory — a nearer, 
 closer helper and friend than any earthly one. And being 
 led to contemplate, partly by the influence of Lilias, a 
 purer and higher ideal, he had been brought to see some- 
 thing of the darkness of self surveyed in a ray of the light 
 that is " inaccessible and full of glory." The overworked 
 garrison chaplain had too much on his hands, that night, 
 to visit all the sufferers, and did not find out Percival. 
 But a better Teacher was near, nseen, to bring home to 
 the eagerly attentive heart the sayings of Him who "spake 
 as never man spake." Among these were the words : " i 
 am the Way, the Truth and the Life," — with the precious 
 lesson they enshrine; and as Percival's earthly life was 
 ebbing away, he entered upon the possession of the better, 
 the only true life of man, even the Eternal. To Ernest 
 himself, the words he read in such solemn circumstances 
 seemed to possess a power and force that they had never 
 had before, and, coming as they did just after his recent 
 inward struggle, they awoke thoughts and feelings that 
 determ/.ncd the current of his whole after-life. 
 
 Percival sent a kind, grateful message to Lilias, telling 
 her that he did not grudge his life to Canada, especially 
 now that he had found a better one than he had ever 
 expected to know. " And," he added, smiling, " it is doing 
 England just as good service as if I had fallen under 
 Wellington, fighting in Spain!" He begged Ernest to 
 17 
 
158 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 accept, as the only return he could make for his unde- 
 served kindness, his horse, Hector. " Miss Meredith will 
 sometimes ride him, I know," he said with a peculiarly 
 pleasant smile, " and when she does, she will think kindly 
 of Francis Percival." 
 
 Then, as death drew near, and his thoughts began to 
 grow confused., they wandered away to his English home, — 
 to the old mansion-house he should see no more, — to the 
 daisy-sprinkled fields he had played in when a boy, — to 
 the little ivy-covered village church where reposed the 
 ashes of his ancestors. And, just before the last, — an old 
 emotion seeming to re-establish its influence — he sent a 
 short broken message to Marian Herbert ; a message which 
 Lilias sacredly treasured, and sent to her cousin just as it 
 was spoken, and which, some weeks later, was read with a 
 rush of blinding tears in a retired chamber of a stately 
 baronial home. When, long years after, Marian — still 
 Marian Herbert — visited her Canadian cousin, Lilias led 
 her to Captain Percival's quiet resting-place in the little 
 churchyard at Oakridge, where, by Major Meredith's 
 desire, his remains had been laid. And then, at last, one 
 mourner wept over the stranger's grave tears of real, 
 bitter, even penitential grief. For she had long since 
 taught herself to believe that her own haughty petulance 
 alone had been to blame for the cloud of pride and 
 misunderstanding that had arisen between them. And 
 {^ilias had never told her that which would have grieved 
 
lis unde- 
 jdith will 
 )eculiarly 
 ik kindly 
 
 began to 
 1 home, — 
 B, — to the 
 I boy, — to 
 )osed the 
 t, — an old 
 he sent a 
 age which 
 I just as it 
 ;ad with a 
 a stately 
 rian — still 
 Lilias led 
 the little 
 Meredith's 
 last, one 
 |s of real, 
 ing since 
 petulance 
 iride and 
 im. And 
 e grieved 
 
 QUEENSTON HEIGHTS. 259 
 
 her unnecessarily, and marred the unbroken memory to 
 which she clung as the one ray of brightness left amid the 
 shadows that had fallen upon her earthly life. 
 
 All that remains to be told must be told briefly, for the 
 story has already exceeded ils allotted limits. What the 
 death of Brock was to the Canadians may be well imag- 
 ined ; — the stunning, almost paralyzing effect of the tidings 
 that their brave and trusted General had been taken from 
 them at a time when they felt that they could so ill spare 
 him ; when, in the words of the late Chief Justice Robinson, 
 " they looked forward to a dark and perilous future, and 
 felt that the earth was closing upon him in whom, more 
 than in all other human means of defence, their confidence 
 had been reposed." But a week before the battle in which 
 he fell, the guns of the Tower of London were celebrating 
 the brilliant capture of Detroit, and men now spoke of 
 him who had passed beyond the reach of all earthly hon- 
 ours, as Sir Isaac Brock, His knightly spurs had been 
 won, and won gallantly; — but only to be laid upon his 
 tomb. 
 
 With heavy-hearted mourning, most deep and 
 genuine ; — amid the tears of his own brave and attached 
 49th regiment, — the unaffected grief of the mihtia who 
 had so revered and trusted him, and the deep sorrow 
 plainly traceable on the dark faces of his Indian warriors, 
 who silently grieved much for the loss of their loved and 
 revered British chief— he was laid with all the solemn 
 
26o 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 pomp of military honours, yet with the endeavour to 
 respect his " native simplicity," in his temporary grave in 
 a newly finished bastion of Fort George ; while the minute- 
 guns of the fort blended with those of Fort Niagara, — a 
 tribute to the departed General even from the American 
 shore! Twelve years later, on the anniversary of the 
 battle of Queenston Heights, his remains were removed 
 to the scene of the engagement, where a stately column, 
 seen afar, perpetuates the honour of his name — a name 
 never to be forgotten in Canada. 
 
 Throughout the whole country the same universal 
 grief prevailed,* clouding the joy of present victory with 
 sorrow for him who was gone, and with misgiving for the 
 future : — 
 
 "On every brow the cloud of sadness hung, 
 The sounds of triumph died on every tongue." 
 
 " Oh Canada, the beauty of Israel is slain on thy high 
 places ; how are the mighty fallen ! " exclaimed the enthu- 
 
 * The sorrow for the loss of General Brock extended to all classes and 
 ages. The following lines were written on his death by "an extraordinary 
 child of thirteen years old," daughter of Lieut. -Col. Bruyere of the Royal 
 Engineers ; 
 
 " As Fame alighted on the mountain's crest 
 
 She loudly blew her trumpet's mighty blast ; 
 
 Ere she repeated Victory's notes she cast 
 
 A look around, and stopped, of power bereft. 
 
 Her bosom heaved, her breath she drew with pain, 
 
 Her favourite, Brock, lay slaughtered on the plain. 
 
 Glory threw on his grave a laurel wreath, 
 
 And Fame proclaims — " a hero sleeps beneath." 
 
QUEENSTON HEIGHTS. 
 
 261 
 
 siastic young missionary, — still surviving, — who preached 
 his funeral sermon ; and men felt as if the prop and main- 
 stay of the country were removed.* But the waves of time 
 gradually closed over the departed General, as they do 
 over humbler men ; and though he left no leader who 
 could fill his place, and though mistakes were made, and 
 the war was protracted far beyond the time which, in all 
 probability, would have closed it had his life been spared, 
 yet, amid all vicissitudes, the spirit which had enabled 
 Brock, at the crisis of Canada's fate, to rally her to brave 
 resistance, inspired her people still. 
 
 Ernest Heathcote speedily recovered from a flesh- 
 
 * The following is the Rener.il order on the subject of Sir Isaac Brock's 
 death, which was transmitted by the Secretary of State for the Colonies to 
 Sir George Prevost, and by him, strange to say, at the time almost entirely 
 suppressed. 
 
 Dec. 8, 1812. "His Royal Highness the Prince Regent is fully aware 
 of the severe loss which IHis Majesty's service has experienced in the death 
 of Major-General Sir Isaac Brock. This would have been sufficient to have 
 clouded a victory of much greater importance. His Majesty has lost in him 
 not only an .able and meritorious officer, but one who, iii the exercise of his 
 functions of provisional Lieutenant Governor of the Province, displayed 
 qualities admirably .idapted to awe the disloyal, to reconcile the wavering, 
 and to animate the great mass of the inhabitants agal.ist successive attempts 
 of the enemy to invade the province, in the last of which he unhappily fell, 
 too prodigal of th.it life of which his eminent services had taught us to under- 
 stand the value." 
 
 To this public testimony, the following private one may be added, written 
 soon after his fall, by a personal friend : — " General Brock was indeed a hero, 
 a hero in the only true and in the most extensive sense ; resembling what 
 history or fable has represented rather as the ofTspring of the imagination 
 than a personage that could have real existence, so entirely was every good 
 and great quality comprehended in his character." 
 
963 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY. 
 
 wound Arhich he had received during the engagement of 
 Queenstun Heights, which, when the excitement was over, 
 he found had been severer than he at first knew. Not- 
 withstanding the pain it caused him, however, he insisted 
 on attending the body of Percival to its resting-place in 
 Oakridge churchyard. He rode over on Hector, Perci- 
 val's bequest, who looked wonderingly at his new master, 
 as he mounted him with a strange mingling of regret and 
 compunction in his heart. When the quiet interment was 
 over, and the little band of soldiers who had attended the 
 body of their officer had retired, after firing the customary 
 salute over his grave, Ernest remained for an hour alone 
 on the spot where we first encountered him, thinking, 
 under the yellow and fast thinning foliage, thoughts for 
 which he was the better during all his future life. 
 
 It need hardly be added that his convalescence was a 
 pleasant one, spent, as it was, at Dunlathmon, where 
 Lilias and her father were prisoners for some weeks, till 
 the latter was well enough to be removed to Oakridge. 
 Major Meredith's wounds proved tedious enough, and it 
 was long before he could use his right arm again, or 
 go about without his crutches. While so disabled he 
 found it impossible to dispense with Ernest's efficient aid, 
 and as military operations on the Niagara frontier were 
 for a time suspended, Ernest was able to gratify what were 
 the wishes of all concerned without infringing on his 
 duties as a volunteer. The Major's warm heart had turned 
 
1 
 
 QUEENSTON HEIGHTS. 
 
 263 
 
 : Avas a 
 where 
 
 ks, till 
 ridge, 
 and it 
 in, or 
 ed he 
 t aid, 
 were 
 t were 
 n his 
 urned 
 
 to him once more, with a strength of reaction all the 
 greater for the previous estrangement. Everything became 
 fully explained, and as the Major felt more and more 
 dependent upon Ernest, and became more and more 
 awake to his value, his abilities and his faithfulness, his 
 inward opposition to the idea of his becoming his son-in- 
 law gradually melted away. No one knew exactly how it 
 came about, but by degrees, it became a settled matter 
 that Ernest was, ere long, to hold the rights, as he was 
 already performing the duties of a son. 
 
 It docs not fall within the compass of our story to follow 
 the war through its various succeeding phases, to describe 
 the worrying vicissitudes, the encounters on lake and 
 shore, that kept the country in turmoil and anxiety for 
 years; or the lurid flames of Newark, that, lighted by a 
 dastardly enemy's hand, shed their glare on the snowy 
 fields, and left numbers of families homeless in the rigour 
 of a Canadian winter. In most of these events Ernest and 
 Lilias had their full share of active and passive interest, 
 and not a little suffering and anxiety; but they went 
 through them hand in hand, finding, in the open and 
 acknowledged bond that united them, a fruitful source of 
 mutual help and strength. And both had learned lessons 
 of trust and rest in a higher love and wisdom that they 
 could never forget ; so that Lilias never suffered, during 
 any of Ernest's future absences, as she had done during 
 the engagement of Queenston Heights, 
 
264 
 
 FOR KING AND COUNTRY, 
 
 When the following June came round, bearing its 
 wealth of leaves and blossoniL. — in the comparative lull 
 that followed the exciting time of the American capture of 
 Fort George and the battle of Stony Creek, — there was a 
 quiet wedding at Oakridge ; and Marjorie, a quieter, more 
 subaued Marjorie than of old, officiated as bridesmaid. 
 She remrined faithful for some years in her romantic devo- 
 tion to the memory of her departed hero; but eventually a 
 new and more ordinary affection took its place, and she 
 became the energetic and high-spirited wife of one who 
 subsequently bore a prominent part in Canadian public 
 life. But, before that time came, she had learned to find 
 for her hero-worsh'.p a still higher Ideal, and to lay it at 
 the only shrine where such passionate homage can safely 
 be laid. , . 
 
 Rachel Thurstaue's childish fancy for her unworthy 
 lover was not strong enough to cause any noticeable grief 
 for his death. Not long after the final conclusion of the 
 war, she was satisfactorily married to a neighbouring far- 
 mer, no one save those most concerned having known 
 what a blight her opening life had so narrowly escaped. 
 For Bill Davis, the only other repository of the secret, ere 
 long disappeared from the neighbourhood, after having 
 been discovered to be acting the part of a double-faced 
 spy, deceiving in turn bo*^^h Americans and Canadians. 
 
 It is not necessary to trace here in detail the ways in 
 which Ernest Heathcote's future life eventually shaped 
 
QUEENSTON HEIGHTS. 
 
 26s 
 
 ing its 
 ive lull 
 Dture of 
 e was a 
 r, more 
 esmaid. 
 ic devo- 
 tually a 
 and she 
 me who 
 1 public 
 i to find 
 lay it at 
 m safely 
 
 nworthy 
 ble grief 
 of the 
 ing far- 
 known 
 scaped, 
 ret, ere 
 having 
 le-faced 
 ans. 
 ways in 
 shaped 
 
 itself, and the opportunities for the definite work he had 
 longed for, that gradually opened themselves before him 
 when the anxious war was at length over, and the country 
 had resumed the peaceful and even tenor of its way. 
 Suffice it to say that he remained true to the aspirations 
 of his youth, strengthened and defined by the infiuence of 
 the emotions and experiences which the war had devel- 
 oped; and that Lilias and he endeavoured, throughout the 
 changing scenes of after life, to live, not for themselves, 
 but for the true welfare of the country for which he had 
 once been ready to lay down his life. 
 
 For, if " it is a sweet and a becoming thing to die for 
 one's country" when that is necessary, it is no less becom- 
 ing and honourable to live to serve it, when God has 
 so ordained. As the great poet of Germany has said : 
 '* We cannot all serve our country in the snme way, 
 but each may do his best, according as God has endowed 
 him." 
 
 Note by the Author.— Instead of referring, by scattered foot-notes, to 
 authorities consulted, the Author desires here, once for all, gratefully to 
 acknowledge obligations to the fo'lowing works : — Tupper': "' Life of General 
 Brock," Colonel Coffin's " War of r8i2," Dr. Canniff's Seitlement of Upper 
 Canada," Mrs. Jameson's " Winter Studies and Summer Rambles in 
 Canada," and a Funeral Sermon on General Brock," by Rev. W. .Smart ; 
 as well as to other books bearing incidentally on the history of the time. 
 
BELL & CO., PRINTERS, 
 
 CITY STEAM PRESS, NO. 13 ADELAIDE STREET EAST, 
 
 TORONTO, ONT. 
 
ST,