at her countenance was formed to
give only pleasure, and our looks brought back the smile to her eyes.

"'Tis no use," said Tom, "you couldn't help being charming if you
tried."

She threw down the book, and came and put her arm around him, and so
we all three stood before the fire till Philip returned.

"Ah," she said, "here is one who will never ask me to be ugly or
unpleasant."

"Who has been asking impossibilities, my dear?" inquired Philip,
taking her offered hand in his.

"These wise gentlemen think I oughtn't to be charming, now that I'm
married."

"Then they think you oughtn't to be yourself; and I disagree with 'em
entirely."

She gave him her other hand also, and stood for a short while looking
into his innocent, fond eyes.

"You dear old Phil!" she said slowly, in a low voice, falling for the
moment into a tender gravity, and her eyes having a more than wonted
softness. The next instant, recovering her light playfulness with a
little laugh, she took his arm and led the way to the dining-room.

And now came Spring--the Spring of 1775. There had been, of course,
for years past, and increasing daily in recent months, talk of the
disagreement between the king and the colonies. I have purposely
deferred mention of this subject, to the time when it was to fall upon
us in its full force so that no one could ignore it or avoid action
with regard to it. But I now reach the beginning of the drama which is
the matter of this history, and to which all I have written is
uneventful prologue. We young people of the Faringfield house (for I
was still as much of that house as of my own) had concerned ourselves
little with the news from London and Boston, of the concentration of
British troops in the latter town in consequence of the increased
disaffection upon the closing of its port. We heeded little the fact
that the colonies meant to convene another general congress at
Philadelphia, or that certain colonial assemblies had done thus and
so, and certain local committees decided upon this or that. 'Twould
all blow over, of course, as the Stamp Act trouble had done; the
seditious class in Boston would soon be overawed, and the king would
then concede, of his gracious will, what the malcontents had failed to
obtain by their violent demands. Such a thing as actual rebellion,
real war, was to us simply inconceivable. I believe now that Philip
had earlier and deeper thoughts on the subject than I had: indeed
events sh