“We cannot stay,” said Mr. Newville. “We have given our allegiance to the king; I have held office under the crown, and the Great and General Court will confiscate my estate, and we shall be beggars. More than that, I probably shall be seized and thrown into jail. There’s no knowing what they will do. Possibly my lifeless body may yet dangle from the gallows, where murderers have paid the penalty of their crimes.”
Mrs. Newville wrung her hands, and gave way to sobs and moans. Ruth had stood a silent spectator, but sat down now by her mother, put an arm around her, and wiped away the tears coursing down her cheeks.
“I haven’t told you all,” said Mr. Newville. “General Howe threatens to burn the town if Mr. Washington opens fire upon the ships.”
“General Howe threatens that?” exclaimed Mrs. Newville.
“Yes; John Scollay and several of us have asked General Robertson to intercede with Howe. He has done so, but Howe will make no promise. He has permitted a flag of truce to go out to Mr. Washington to let him know if the British are molested he will set the town on fire. If Mr. Washington is the kind-hearted man they say he is, probably he will not make an attack. He wants to compel Howe to get out and to have the town spared. We are not the only ones who will suffer, but everybody who has stood for the king will have to go or take the consequences when the provincials march in. They will be implacable in their retaliation for the burning of Charlestown and Falmouth, and for the destruction of the Old North Meetinghouse, the desecration of the Old South, and the pulling down of hundreds of houses. They will confiscate the property of every one who has adhered to the crown, and make them beggars, or send them out of the Province, or perhaps do both. We may as well look the matter squarely in the face, for we have got to face it.”
It was spoken with quivering lips. Several vessels had been designated on which the friends of the king might embark for Halifax, the only port near at hand where they could find refuge. He looked around the room, gazed mournfully at the portraits of his ancestors on the walls, at the rich mahogany furniture, the mirrors above the mantel reflecting the scene. In the dining-room was the buffet with its rich furnishings. Upon the stairs was the clock, its pendulum swinging as it had swung since the days of his boyhood. Upon the sideboard were the tea-urns used on many convivial afternoons and evenings. Whichever way he turned he saw that which had contributed to his ease, comfort, and happiness. Looking out of the window, he saw the buds were beginning to swell upon the trees under the genial rays of the sun. The bluebirds and robins had arrived and were singing in the garden. A few more days and the grass would be springing fresh and green, the asparagus throwing up its shoots, the cherry-trees white with blooms, the lilacs and roses perfuming the air; but never again was he to sit beneath the vine-clad arbor as he had sat in former years, listening to Nature’s symphony rehearsed by singing birds; never again was he to see the coming of ecstatic life in bud and blossom. He must bid farewell forever to all the enchanting scenes, pull up by the roots, as it were, all cherished things. What should he take? What leave behind? There would be little room on shipboard for the richly carved mahogany chairs, sideboard, sofa, portraits of his ancestors. What use would he have for them in exile? How dispose of them? Who would purchase them? No one. How would he live in a foreign land? How occupy his time? His mansion was his own; he was possessor of other houses and lands, but all would be seized. He could take his silver plate, his gold and silver coin; not much else.
“Oh dear! oh dear! has it come to this!” Mrs. Newville exclaimed, “when we might have been far away, having everything heart could wish!”
She cast a reproachful look upon Ruth.
“Oh, if you had only done as I wanted!”
A gentle hand wiped the tears from the mother’s face.