“We have been told,” said Mrs. Warren, still taking the lead in the conversation, “that you have been appointed to the command at the Forks, which has been created a military post.”
“It is so. There is so much valuable merchandize there, that it has been thought best to station a few soldiers at the place. Allow me, ladies,” he politely continued, “to tender you their protection, though I trust no occasion may arise for claiming it.”
“And you really will assist,” said Kate, archly, “such horrible tories as ourselves.”
“Not such inveterate ones, I hope,” answered Major Gordon, in the same gay spirit, “as you would have me suppose. Had that been so, you would not have remained at Sweetwater, but have gone to New York; for General Washington is always ready to give ladies a pass, especially frightened ones.”
“Oh! I could never think of deserting Sweetwater, my beautiful Sweetwater, which I have not seen for so many years.”
As she spoke, she involuntarily glanced out of the window, in the direction of the church. The Major followed her eyes.
“I do not wonder at your love for it,” he said, with undisguised admiration. “It is certainly the most charming spot in all West Jersey. You live here,” he added, “like a queen; for England, in all her breadth, has not a park as boundless as those vast woods: I am told the tract embraces a hundred thousand acres.”
“All which,” continued Kate, in the same gay tone, “makes me seriously think of turning whig; for if your General Washington wins at last, some greedy patriot might have my estate confiscated. Aunt is to remain a tory, red-hot for King George, tea and stamp-duties, so that, if you rebels—that’s the word for her, you know—get the ascendency, she can keep the property for me in her name. I believe it was in some such fashion—wasn’t it?— that the rebels in Mother England used to keep the lands in a family. Isn’t his grace of Hamilton only a younger branch of the exiled peer!”
Mrs. Warren, who could never understand a jest, had vainly tried to interrupt Kate, as the latter thus rattled on. Now, raising her hands, she cried—
“Niece, niece, how you talk. Major Gordon,” she continued, turning in real distress to the American officer, “you mustn’t mind what the silly child says. I know you are too much of a gentleman to take advantage of such wild talk. We are two inoffensive ladies, who wish to have no part in the unhappy controversy which is now distracting this land, except to render what assistance we can to those who suffer, and to disburse our hospitalities to all who may visit the neighborhood.”