Virginia rattled on.
“I told you that we stayed with a real lord in England, didn't I?” said she. “He wasn't half as nice as the Prince. But he had a beautiful house in Surrey, all windows, which was built in Elizabeth's time. They called the architecture Tudor, didn't they, Pa?”
“Yes, dear,” said the Colonel, smiling.
“The Countess was nice to me,” continued the girl, “and took me to garden parties. But Lord Jermyn was always talking politics.”
The Colonel was stroking his goatee.
“Tell Silas about the house, Jinny—Jackson, help the Judge again.”
“No,” said Virginia, drawing a breath. “I'm going to tell him about that queer club where my great-grand-father used to bet with Charles Fox. We saw a great many places where Richard Carvel had been in England. That was before the Revolution. Uncle Daniel read me some of his memoirs when we were at Calvert House. I know that you would be interested in them, Uncle Silas. He sailed under Paul Jones.”
“And fought for his country and for his flag, Virginia,” said the Judge, who had scarcely spoken until then. “No, I could not bear to read them now, when those who should love that country are leaving it in passion.”
There was a heavy silence. Virginia did not dare to look at her father. But the Colonel said, gently:
“Not in passion, Silas, but in sorrow.”