I sat still and listened.
“Why do not you join our army? A commission were easily had.”
I replied that he knew my sentiments well, and that his question was absurd.
“No,” he said; “I am your friend, although you do not think so. By George! were I you, I would be on one side or the other. I like my friends to do what is manly and decisive.” “Holloa!” thinks I; “has Darthea been talking? And why does he, an officer of the king, want me to go?”
“I shall go some day,” I replied, “but when, I know not yet. It seems to me queer counsel to give a good rebel. When does Miss Peniston return?” I said.
“What the deuce has that got to do with it? Yes, she is coming back, of course, and soon; but why do not you join your army?”
“Let us drop that,” I said. “There are many reasons; I prefer not to discuss the matter.”
“Very good,” he said; “and, Hugh, you heard a heap of nonsense last night about Wyncote. Tarleton had too much of your father’s rum-punch. Your people were lucky to lose the old place, and how these tales of our being rich arose I cannot imagine. Come and see us some day, and you will no longer envy the lot of beggared Welsh squires.”
All of this only helped the more to make me disbelieve him; but the key to his lies I had not, and so I merely said it would be many a day before that could happen.
“Perhaps,” he returned; “but who knows? The war will soon be over.”