Major Edward took the edge of the chair, and held out his long, thin fingers to the blaze. "Yes; Valley Forge," he repeated, with his dry deliberation. "Valley Forge—and starving soldiers moaning through the icy night! Washington rarely slept; he sat there in his tent, planning, planning, in the cold, by the dim light. There was a war—and there were brave men—and there was a patriot soul!"
"I learn from Jacqueline that Colonel Churchill and you too, sir, have shown her for some days past much kindness, tenderness, and consideration. She has been made happy thereby."
"My niece has never been other than dear to me, sir," said the Major, and still warmed his hand. "I believe, Mr. Rand, that your father fought bravely in the war?"
"He did his part, sir. He was a scout with General Campbell and, I have heard, fought like a berserker at King's Mountain."
"If he did his part," the Major replied, "he did well, and is to be reckoned among the patres patriæ. It is a good inheritance to derive from a patriot father."
"So I have read, sir," said Rand dryly.
There was a silence while the flames leaped and roared. The Major broke it. "You would take me, would you not, Mr. Rand, to be a man of my word?"
"I should, sir."
"It has been my reputation. The last time that I spoke to you—"
Rand smiled gravely. "That was two years and a half ago, and your speech was to the effect that never should you speak to me again. Well! opinion and will have their mutations. Men of their word, Major Churchill, know better than most how little worth are the words of men. However you come here to-night, pray believe that you are welcome, and that I would gladly be friends."