"Indeed!" muttered Butler, thoughtfully, and scarce above his breath. "What side does your father take, Mary?"
"My father is an old man, sir. And he reads his Bible, and every night, before we go to bed, he prays aloud before us all, I mean all that belong to his house, for quiet once more and peace. His petition is that there may be an end of strife, and that the sword and spear may be turned into the pruning-hook and ploughshare—you know the words, sir, perhaps, for they are in the good book, and so he doesn't take any side. But then, the English officers are not far off, and they take his house and use it as they please, so that he has no mind of his own. And almost all the people round us are Tories, and we are afraid of our lives if we do not say whatever they say."
"Alas! that's the misfortune of many more than your father's household. But how comes it that you are a friend of General Washington?"
"Oh, sir, I think he is our friend; and then he is a good man. And I have a better reason still to be on his side," added the maiden tremulously, with her head averted.
"What reason, my good girl?"
"John Ramsay, sir."
"Indeed! a very cogent reason, I doubt not, my pretty maid of the mill. And how does this reason operate?"
"We have a liking, sir," she replied bashfully, but with innocent frankness; "he is for Washington, and we are to be married when the war is over."
"Truly, that is a most excellent reason! Who is John Ramsay?"
"He is a trooper, sir, and out with General Sumpter. We don't see him often now, for he is afraid to come home, excepting when the Tories are away."