But Aunt Martha, once she took a decision, was not to be moved, and she refused utterly to return to the city, saying that her husband’s interests demanded her presence on the plantation, and she felt it her duty to remain at all hazards. “The place will go to rack and ruin while he is away, if I don’t look out for it,” she declared, “and I cannot neglect my husband’s affairs when he is away. I am willing to take the risks, for I think my presence may be a saving means for us all, in case of a visit from those bands of foragers.”
And therefore Lettice heard with mixed feelings that her uncle’s home was likely to hold for some time, not only her aunt and Rhoda, but Robert Clinton.
CHAPTER IX.
Love and Politics.
The presence of the enemy in the neighborhood convinced every one of the necessity of taking every precaution to protect themselves and their property. At first alarm many persons had hidden their plate and other valuables, and many had sent their families farther inland. But beyond the discomforts occasioned by raids, when houses were sacked and often burned to the ground, and when slaves were enticed away, the people of Maryland did not suffer as much as did those of lower Virginia. Where there was no marked resistance, and where there was no reason to suppose the heads of families were in the American army, allowance was made for property taken, and pay given. Therefore Aunt Martha had reason on her side when she said, “I shall simply let them take what they want and shall expect pay for it.”
“That is not what we will do,” Lettice said. “We are not going to pretend that we are friends, but of course it is different with you, Aunt Martha.” Lettice had recovered from her fright and was really enjoying life. If James lost no opportunity in visiting Sylvia’s Ramble, neither did Robert Clinton fail to make a daily appearance at Hopkins’s Point, till Lettice came to look for his coming as part of her day’s pleasure. He was truly a very attractive young man, every one conceded.
“I haven’t a word against him,” said Lettice’s brother William, “except for his politics. You’ll not go over to the enemy, will you, sis?” he said, pinching her cheek.
“Never!” returned Lettice, steadily. Nevertheless, the telltale blush upon her cheek was not caused by the pink sunbonnet she wore. The little maid of seventeen found it hard to remember her politics when she was listening to the beguiling words of the young New Yorker, who by this time had declared himself her devoted suitor.
“Why do you deny me, sweet Lettice?” he said. “Must I leave you altogether? Am I so hateful to you?” This was but the night before, when the two were coming home from a frolic at Becky Lowe’s.
“There is Rhoda, you know,” Lettice had answered in a low tone.