the German.

"If he is well, I must know it. He is more than merely my friend. If he
is ill, I must care for him. If he is dead--oh, dear mother, I must go!"

"I forbid it absolutely. If you go, it is against my will."

He saw that she meant it. It was vain to protest. He rose.

"I have no time to lose, mother. Pray for me."

"That I do always, but I shall not forgive you; no--yes, kiss me. I did
not mean that; but think of my life, of yours, what it owes me. You will
not go, my son."

"Yes, I am going. I should be base, a coward, ungrateful, if I did not
go. Good-by, mother. Let them know at Mrs. Swanwick's."

He was gone. She sat still a little while, and then rising, she looked
out and saw him go down the garden path, a knapsack on his back.

"His father would never have left me. Ah, but he is my son--all of him.
He was right to go, and I was weak, but, my God, life is very hard!" For
a moment she looked after his retreating figure, and then, fearless,
quiet, and self-contained, took up again the never-finished embroidery.

XIV

In the summer of 1793, the city of Penn numbered forty-five thousand
souls, and lay in the form of an irregularly bounded triangle, the apex
being about seven squares, as we say, west of the Delaware. From this it
spread eastward, widening until the base, thinly builded with shops,
homes, and warehouses, extended along the Delaware River a distance of
about two miles from Callowhill Street to Cedar. It was on the parts
nearest to the river that the death-cloud lay.

De Courval had walked from the Falls of Schuylkill late in the morning,
and, after having been ferried across the Schuylkill, passed by forest
and farm roads over a familiar, rolling country, and arrived at Merion,
in the Welsh barony, where he parted from his mother. To this distance
he was now to add the seven miles which would bring him to the city.

He soon reached the Lancaster road, and after securing a bowl of bread
and milk, for which he paid the exorbitant price of two shillings at a
farm-house, he lay down in the woods and, lighting his meerschaum pipe,
rested during the early afternoon, glad of shelter from the moist heat
of the September day.

He had much to think about. His mother he dismissed, smiling. If, after
what he had said, he had not obeyed the call of duty and gratitude, he
knew full well that she would have been surprised, despite her protests
and the terror with which his errand filled