"That I am not, sweet little wife," he answered, drawing her to him, "save when I see you unhappy."
"But I am not unhappy," she protested, adding brokenly, "except that—that—"
"Except that you cherish a warm love for kindred and home, and one it would be most unnatural for you to be lacking," he interrupted. "But never fear, little one,"—and he stroked her hair much as her brother had done—"you will not be unhappy with me, if you love me; and that you say you do, and so I know it for a truth—thank God. This war cannot last very long, and I've lost all heart to care whether King or colony win. To tell the truth,"—and he laughed as he bent over to kiss her—"I fear my heart has turned traitor enough to love best the cause of her I love. So it is as well that I send in my resignation, which is certain to be accepted; and we'll go straight to my dear old home among the Devonshire hills, and be happily out of the way of the strife. And when it is over, we can often cross the sea to your own home, and perhaps your brother and his wife—if I can ever make my peace with her—will also come to us. And so, sweetheart, you see the parting is not forever—nor for very long."
Thus he went on soothing and cheering her as he seated himself again in the big chair by the hearth and drew her to his knee. Presently, and as if to divert her thoughts, he said: "Come—tell me something of your family. I have seen them all, as you know, but there are two of its members with whom I never had speech."
Dorothy puckered her brows and looked at him questioningly.
"They are wide apart as to age," he added, smiling at her perplexity,—"for one of them is a sweet-faced old lady, and the other is a lovely little girl with long yellow locks and wonderful blue eyes. She was with you that eventful day at the cave." And he laughed softly at the thought of what that day had brought about.
"Why, the old lady was Aunt Lettice, and the little girl is her granddaughter—'Bitha Hollis, my cousin."
"She looks a winsome little thing—this 'Bitha," he said, happy to see the brightness come to Dorothy's face.
She was smiling, for the names had brought visions of her dear old home, and she seemed to see all the loving faces in the fire before her.
"Yes—and she is a dear child, and full of the oddest fancies." And now Dorothy laughed outright as some of 'Bitha's queer sayings came to her.