g to
conjecture as to the outcome of my escapade. But as luck would have
it, the Governor had been that day in such worry and perplexity, and my
grandfather also, that my absence had passed unnoticed. Nor did my good
friend the captain utter a word to them of what he knew. But afterwards
he called me to him and set me upon his knee. How big, and kind, and
strong he was, and how I loved his bluff soldier's face and blunt ways.
And when at last he spoke, his words burnt deep in my memory, so that
even now I can repeat them.

"Richard," he said, "I perceive you are like your father. I love your
spirit greatly, but you have been overrash to-day. Remember this, lad,
that you are a gentleman, the son of the bravest and truest gentleman
I have ever known, save one; and he is destined to high things." I know
now that he spoke of Colonel Washington. "And that your mother," here
his voice trembled,--"your mother was a lady, every inch of her, and too
good for this world. Remember, and seek no company, therefore, beyond
that circle in which you were born. Fear not to be kind and generous, as
I know you ever will be, but choose not intimates from the tavern." Here
the captain cleared his throat, and seemed to seek for words. "I fear
there are times coming, my lad," he went on presently, "when every man
must choose his side, and stand arrayed in his own colours. It is not
for me to shape your way of thinking. Decide in your own mind that which
is right, and when you have so decided,"--he drew his sword, as was his
habit when greatly moved, and placed his broad hand upon my head,--"know
then that God is with you, and swerve not from thy course the width of
this blade for any man."

We sat upon a little bench in the Governor's garden, in front of us the
wide Severn merging into the bay, and glowing like molten gold in the
setting sun. And I was thrilled with a strange reverence such as I have
sometimes since felt in the presence of heroes.

CHAPTER IV. GRAFTON WOULD HEAL AN OLD BREACH

Doctor Hilliard, my grandfather's chaplain, was as holy a man as ever
wore a gown, but I can remember none of his discourses which moved me
as much by half as those simple words Captain Clapsaddle had used. The
worthy doctor, who had baptized both my mother and father, died suddenly
at Carvel Hall the spring following, of a cold contracted while visiting
a poor man who dwelt across the river. He would have lacked but three
years of fourscore c