“Deary me!” said Mrs. Warren, lifting her hands, “Kate a rebel. How can it be? Who told you so?” she added, confusedly, looking from one to the other. “It isn’t so, Kate, is it?”
“I never said it was,” answered our heroine composedly. “I merely expressed regret at the possible arrival of a royal expedition against the bay, because it would lead to bloodshed, and bring the horrors of war almost to our very doors, and lo! Charles,” she added, with something of haughty contempt, “cries out that I am a rebel.”
“I knew Kate wasn’t a rebel,” said Mrs. Warren, looking appealingly to Aylesford. “You don’t really mean to say she is one, nephew? You were only jesting?”
“I cry Kate’s pardon,” answered Aylesford, whose object was not to irritate, and who had now hastened to repair his error. “As you say, aunt, I was only jesting. But, in serious earnest, a royal expedition has probably anchored in the bay by this time; and, as I am tired of an aimless life,” he glanced meaningly at Kate as he spoke, “I intend seizing the opportunity to offer my sword to his Majesty.”
“Oh! my dear boy, don’t think of it,” cried his aunt in alarm. “You’ll be killed, I know you will; and then what will become of us.”
“Never fear for me, aunt,” replied Aylesford. “I am no more unfortunate than others, at least in war,” he added, significantly looking at Kate. “The chances are ten to one that I’ll escape even a wound. And then, you know, I’ll naturally rise in the service; all officers who serve faithfully do; so that, by the time these revolted colonies are subdued, I’ll probably be a Colonel. Let us hope, some day, to attend a levee of his Majesty, I accompanying you in the uniform of that rank. Besides, aunt, I’m but doing my duty. No Aylesford should refuse to draw sword for his king. I’ve no doubt Cousin Danville has often wondered why I did not serve.”
This last allusion, adroitly introduced, calmed the good lady’s fears, and reconciled her to the scheme more than anything which had gone before. She still, however, looked undecided.
“What do you think of it, Kate?” she said, in perplexity. “It does look odd, doesn’t it, that none of our family are in arms for the King?”
Kate, during the time Aylesford was speaking, had been carefully counting the grounds in her tea-cup. She was persuaded that this sudden scheme of her cousin’s had its origin entirely in her refusal. She could not but feel a pang at being the cause of his exile, yet her reason told her that it was the best for both him and her; and therefore, on being thus appealed to, she looked up and said—
“If Charles thinks he ought to go, under all the circumstances,” and she emphasized these last words, “it is not for us to thwart him. There is certainly both honor and wealth to be had in the service of King George; while here there is nothing at all to engage a man of spirit. And if any Aylesford joins the royal standard,” she added, laughingly, striving, for her aunt’s sake, to give a gayer tone to the conversation, “it must be Charles, unless you choose, aunt, to enlist, a la Joan of Arc, or I go a soldiering, like a vivandiere in the French army.”