“I am ready enough to come in; but as for giving you any news of what is going on in Charleston, it is something I am unable to do. I haven’t seen the inside of the place for three or four weeks, and I don’t expect to see it until these Britishers are driven out.”
The good dame closed the door as he entered, and motioned him to a seat.
“I’m much obliged to you, Mrs. Vale; but, to tell the truth, I hardly have time to sit down. I called to see John, and have a few minutes’ talk with him. If you could tell me where I can find him I will look for him, as I see he is not in the house.”
“What do you want of him, Nat? I am afraid you want to lead him into some mischief.”
“I can not say whether you will call it mischief or not; I am willing to tell you what I wish to do, and I think you will approve of it. These are stirring times, Mrs. Vale, and it’s the duty of every one to do something for the country. The wolf is at our doors, and it’s our duty to drive him away. A number of us are about organizing a troop to fight for our homes and liberty. I know that you and John believe, as I do, that the colonies are in the right; and I came over to-night to see if I could not get John to join us. Every one is joining one side or the other; and, unless we make a vigorous stand now, it will soon be too late.”
“Nathaniel,” said the widow, “you know that John is the main support of my old age; that he and Catherine are all that keeps me here. Were they gone, I would not wish for life. Is not the cause of freedom hopeless? Have not our countrymen been beaten at all points? Is there a chance of success left to hang a single hope on? What good, then, will it do for John to risk his life for the sake of continuing a little longer a struggle which must soon end disastrously?”
“‘While there is life there is hope,’ as the doctors say, Mrs. Vale. You speak truly, when you say the case is desperate; but that it is hopeless, I deny. While there remains a thousand swords and a thousand stout arms to wield them—while there are a thousand brave hearts that pant for liberty, and liberty only, the cause of American Independence will not be given up without a last grand struggle. We must be successful; and, though our lives are given to establish the nationality of the colonies, the sacrifice must not be grudged.”
“Nathaniel Ernshaw, you speak like a patriot, and you must feel like one. I but tried you when I spoke of our cause as hopeless. John is anxious to go to the fray; but his love for me has kept him at home. He shall be kept here no longer. Count on him as one of the company, and, if he falls fighting for liberty and his country, think not I will ever reproach you for having asked him to enter the paths of danger.”
“I thought you would feel so, and I believe John is as enthusiastic as yourself; but his love for you had kept him from joining the army, knowing that, at any moment, he might be ordered away from you. Now the case is different. The foe is in our midst. We can see them from our own door-steps, and we must battle for the defence of our firesides.”
At this moment, Catherine, who had been in the other room, entered. With a pleasant “Good evening,” she shook hands, and, taking a seat, she resumed the knitting which she had relinquished to prepare supper.