CHAPTER XVI.
MR. CLIFTON’S RESOLUTION.
Full many a storm on this gray head has beat
And now on my high station do I stand,
Like the tired watchman in rocked tower,
Who looketh for the hour of his release.
I’m sick of worldly broil, and fain would be
With those who strive no more.—Joanna Baillie.
“Well, old two pence ha’penny, how d’ y’ do? Family all well at last, eh?” said Major Cabell, advancing to meet Mr. Clifton, as he entered the parlor.
The old gentleman extended his hand gravely, and welcomed his visitor to White Cliffs. Then he rung the bell and ordered refreshments, but Major Cabell declined the latter and inquired after the ladies.
“My family are all in affliction! D—n it, Charley, you know it! Curse that Indian war! My dear Carolyn scarcely recovered from the effects of that loathsome pestilence, before here comes the news of that hideous massacre of poor Fairfax and his men, and just overwhelms my little Zuleime!”