“Well, it isn’t that bad, but my little girl must be very nice to him. He seems to be very unhappy, too.”
Barbara looked thoughtful, but there was no pretense of not understanding.
“I’m sorry,” she said. She took her father’s arm, and when they reached the steps Erskine saw her smiling. And smiling, almost gay, she was at supper, sitting with exquisite dignity in her mother’s place. Harry and Hugh looked amazed, and her father, who knew the bit of tempered steel she was, smiled his encouragement proudly. Of Erskine, who sat at her right, she asked many questions about the coming campaign. Captain Clark had said he would go with a hundred men if he could get no more. The rallying-point would be the fort in Kentucky where he had first come back to his own people, and Dave Yandell would be captain of a company. He himself was going as guide, though he hoped to act as soldier as well. Perhaps they might bring back the Hair-Buyer, General Hamilton, a prisoner to Williamsburg, and then he would join Harry and Hugh in the militia if the war came south and Virginia were invaded, as some prophesied, by Tarleton’s White Rangers, who had been ravaging the Carolinas. After supper the little lady excused herself with a smiling courtesy to go to her mother, and Erskine found himself in the moonlight on the big portico with Colonel Dale alone.
“Erskine,” he said, “you make it very difficult for me to keep your secret. Hugh alone seems to suspect—he must have got the idea from Grey, but I have warned him to say nothing. The others seem not to have thought of the matter at all. It was a boyish impulse of generosity which you may regret——”
“Never,” interrupted the boy. “I have no use—less than ever now.”
“Nevertheless,” the colonel went on, “I regard myself as merely your steward, and I must tell you one thing. Mr. Jefferson, as you know, is always at open war with people like us. His hand is against coach and four, silver plate, and aristocrat. He is fighting now against the law that gives property to the eldest son, and he will pass the bill. His argument is rather amusing. He says if you will show him that the eldest son eats more, wears more, and does more work than his brothers, he will grant that that son is entitled to more. He wants to blot out all distinctions of class. He can’t do that, but he will pass this bill.”
“I hope he will,” muttered Erskine.
“Barbara would not accept your sacrifice nor would any of us, and it is only fair that I should warn you that some day, if you should change your mind, and I were no longer living, you might be too late.”
“Please don’t, Uncle Harry. It is done—done. Of course, it wasn’t fair for me to consider Barbara alone, but she will be fair and you understand. I wish you would regard the whole matter as though I didn’t exist.”
“I can’t do that, my boy. I am your steward and when you want anything you have only to let me know!” Erskine shook his head.