“A letter from Massa Tom,” shouted the negro, dancing into the sitting-room.
Captain Brandon thanked the soldier, and told Mark Antony to mix a toddy for him.
It was gratifying to know that Tom was safe, but sad the information that Lieutenant Walden was numbered among the killed.
The fair brow of Ruth Newville through the summer months had been growing whiter day by day.
“I fear she is not well,” said Mr. Newville.
“The battle, the burning of Charlestown,—the terrible spectacle was too much for her nerves,” Mrs. Newville replied.
“Ought we not to call in the doctor?”
“No, she is not sick; you know how sympathetic she is. Don’t you remember what she said when she saw the town in flames,—even speaking disrespectfully of General Gage, and swooning when the king’s troops won the victory. The burning of so many houses has unstrung her nerves. I trust she will soon get over it. Since the battle she has spent most of her time in her chamber and has pleaded indisposition when gentlemen, especially officers, have called.”
“Miss Ruth wants you to come up de stairs to her chamber,” said Pompey, when Berinthia called at the Newville home to show her the letter Tom had written.