“I wish I could come without this deception.”
“I, too, with all my heart.”
“You had a letter to-day; was it from Master Singleton?”
“No; it was this sad one from Richard, by the same messenger that brought yours. The last letter I had from Eustace was the one I sent you some two weeks ago. Since he was then on the eve of going to New York to carry letters to General Clinton, it is not likely he is among those in the beleaguered city of Yorktown.”
“I have been so glad to think this,” Betty answered, sighing. “Do you know, Joscelyn, I saw him in the parlour yonder for a few minutes the day the British marched?”
“Yes; I told mother to have you here, and then I sent him back from headquarters.”
Betty kissed her gratefully. “I might have guessed it. It was such a happy ten minutes! But, Joscelyn, mother never mentions his name except to remind me that his father and mine were bitter enemies.”
“Wait until Richard comes home; he doubtless will look at matters differently; and as he says, so will your mother do.”
“Not unless you plead for me; and even that may not now avail, for he may share mother’s anger against you.”