the Monroes had their full share; for, although the Duke did not like the
Scots, and used at times to throw a sarcasm at their country, he always
gave them a situation of danger, either from dislike or a reliance on their
courage. About twelve months after Malplaquet, your father left the service
and retired into France. Peace was now evidently at hand, and an armistice
had been agreed upon and signed by several of the allies of the English;
and our gallant leader was now in disgrace. Much as Henry Seaton and I
esteemed each other in all other points, we had no fellowship in politics.
I was and am a Whig; he, a Tory of the first water--a devoted adherent of
the exiled family; yet, high as parties ran at this time in cities, we had
no differences in the camp, where each respected his neighbour's opinion,
nor overvalued his own. The last letter I received from him was about
twelve months after we parted. It was dated St Germain's. He said, and in a
mysterious sort of way, half-earnest, half-jest, that, in a short time, we
might meet, to try the force of our different opinions. I, at the time,
only laughed at it, and returned, for answer, that I had no doubt we would
both do our best, and leave the issue to the Disposer of events. Soon
after, Mar's ill-concerted rebellion took place, in which I have no doubt
your father was an active agent; but I have, since this last letter, lost
all trace of him. Your being born in the year '16 would lead me to suppose
that he must have married your mother about the time of the Rebellion,
either in Scotland or France."

That Henry Seaton was his father, William earnestly prayed; but how was he
to ascertain this fact? He knew not; neither could his kind host assist
him. The lapse of time was so great, that, in all probability, he was dead;
and, with a mind worse at ease than it had ever been, he took leave of the
Colonel, promising to call again in the forenoon of the following day, to
consult what steps he should take to follow out the information he had so
unexpectedly acquired. He reached the inn, and retired to rest; but sleep
had fled his pillow. A thousand ideas crowded his mind; method after method
was canvassed, each for a time offering assured success, but, upon more
mature consideration, being rejected. Day dawned, and found him as
unresolved as when he left Colonel Gordon. As soon as it was consistent
with propriety, he waited upon the Colonel, by whom he was greeted
heartily.