ld weaken her immensely, and lower her prestige with the
Indians, which was now a source of great danger to the English
colonists.

The story of the massacre after the surrender of Fort William Henry
had made a profound impression throughout the English-speaking
provinces, and had awakened a longing after vengeance which in
itself had seemed almost like an earnest of victory. And now the
regular troops began to muster and pour in, and Albany was all
excitement and enthusiasm; for the Dutch had by that time come to
have a thorough distrust of France, and to desire the victory of
the English arms only less ardently than the English themselves.

Mrs. Schuyler, as usual, opened her doors wide to receive as many
of the officers as she was able whilst the final preparations were
being made. And upon a soft midsummer evening Lord Howe appeared in
the supper room, bringing with him two fine-looking officers--one
grey headed, the other young and ardent--and introducing them to
his hostess and those assembled round the table as Major Duncan
Campbell, the Laird of Inverawe, in Scotland; with his son
Alexander, a Lieutenant of the Highland force.

Young Alexander was seated next to Fritz at table, and began an
eager conversation with him. Talk surged to and fro that night.
Excitement prevailed everywhere. But Fritz observed that Major
Campbell sat very grave and silent, and that even Lord Howe's
efforts to draw him into conversation proved unavailing.

Mrs. Schuyler also tried, but with little success, to make the
veteran talk. He answered with grave courtesy all remarks made to
him, but immediately lapsed into a sombre abstraction, from which
it seemed difficult to rouse him.

At the end of the supper Lord Howe rose to his feet, made a dashing
little speech to the company, full of fire and enthusiasm, and
proposed the toast:

"Success to the expedition against Ticonderoga!"

Fritz happened to be looking at the grave, still face of Major
Campbell, and as these words were spoken he saw a sudden spasm pass
across it. The soldier rose suddenly to his feet, took up his glass
for a moment, put it down untasted, and with a bow to his hostess
pushed aside his chair, and strode from the room in an access of
visible emotion.

Lord Howe looked after him a moment, and draining his glass, seemed
about to go after the guest; but young Alexander, from the other
side of the table, made him a sign, and he sat down again.

The incident