know, were grateful
enough on my part, I would fain inquire how the baronet had taken his
second's defection; but of this Jennifer would say little. He had broken
with his principal, whether in anger or not I could only guess; and one
of Falconnet's brother officers, that younger of the twain who had cried
shame at the baronet's vile boast, was to serve in his stead.

It was such a daydawn as I have sometimes seen in the Carpathians; cool
and clear, but with that sweet dewy wetness in the lower air which
washes the over-night cobwebs from the brain, and is both meat and drink
to one who breathes it. On the left the road was overhung by the
bordering forest, and where the branches drooped lowest we brushed the
fragrance from the wild-grape bloom in passing. On the right the river,
late in flood, eddied softly; and sounds other than the murmuring of the
waters, the matin songs of the birds, and the dust-muffled hoof-beats of
our horses there were none. Peace, deep and abiding, was the key-note of
nature's morning hymn; and in all this sylvan byway there was naught
remindful of the fierce internecine warfare aflame in all the
countryside. Some rough forging of this thought I hammered out for
Jennifer as we rode along, and his laugh was not devoid of bitterness.

"Old Mother Nature ruffles her feathers little enough for any teapot
tempest of ours," he said. "But speaking of the cruelties, we provincial
savages, as my Lord Cornwallis calls us, have no monopoly. The
post-riders from the south bring blood-curdling stories of Colonel
Tarleton's doings. 'Tis said he overtook some of Mr. Lincoln's
reinforcements come too late. They gave battle but faint-heartedly,
being all unready for an enemy, and presently threw down their arms and
begged for quarter--begged, and were cut down as they stood."

"Faugh!" said I. "That is but hangman's work. And yet in London I heard
that this same Colonel Tarleton was with Lord Howe in Philadelphia and
was made much of by the ladies."

Jennifer's laugh was neither mirthful nor pleasant.

"'Tis a weakness of the sex," he scoffed. "The women have a fondness for
a man with a dash of the brute in him."

I laughed also, but without bitterness.

"You say it feelingly. Do you speak by the book?"

"Aye, that I do. Now here is my lady Madge preaching peace and all
manner of patience to me in one breath, and upholding in the next this
baronet captain who, though I would have seconded him at a pinc