"Is it yours?"
"Yes, it is now; but it was my grandfather's." He straightened instinctively, as if in answer to some far-away bugle, and looked at her without seeming to see. "He fought at Lexington."
His voice betrayed his pride of blood, and his nostrils dilated with a quick, inward breath. His hands moved lovingly along the keen blade—and then Beatrice humbled herself.
"Cousin Rob," she began, impulsively, "I want to tell you something. I'm sorry and ashamed for——"
Scarlet signals were flaming in her cheeks, and he interrupted her. "Say no more about it," he said generously; "we were all unaccountably excited, and at such times we say and do things that otherwise we would not. Forget about it."
"I'll be glad to," she answered earnestly; but in her heart of hearts she knew she was not forgiven.
