ashamed to own that I felt as great a
panic as ever coward experienced. My lord, with his profoundest bows and
blandest courtesies, greeted his aunt and led her to the fire, by which
my lady (who was already hoping for an heir to Castlewood) lay reclining
on her sofa. She did not attempt to rise, but smiled a greeting to her
venerable guest. And then, after a brief talk, in which she showed a
perfect self-possession, while the two gentlemen blundered and hesitated
with the most dastardly tremor, my lord said:

"If we are to look for those pheasants, cousin, we had better go now."

"And I and aunt will have a cosy afternoon. And you will tell me about
Castlewood in the old times, won't you, Baroness?" says the new mistress
of the mansion.

O les laches que les hommes! I was so frightened, that I scarce saw
anything, but vaguely felt that Lady Castlewood's dark eyes were
following me. My lord gripped my arm in the corridor, we quickened our
paces till our retreat became a disgraceful run. We did not breathe
freely till we were in the open air in the courtyard, where the keepers
and the dogs were waiting.

And what happened? I protest, children, I don't know. But this is
certain: if your mother had been a woman of the least spirit, or had
known how to scold for five minutes during as many consecutive days of
her early married life, there would have been no more humble, henpecked
wretch in Christendom than your father. When Parson Blake comes to
dinner, don't you see how at a glance from his little wife he puts his
glass down and says, "No, thank you, Mr. Gumbo," when old Gum brings
him wine? Blake wore a red coat before he took to black, and walked up
Breeds Hill with a thousand bullets whistling round his ears, before
ever he saw our Bunker Hill in Suffolk. And the fire-eater of the 43rd
now dare not face a glass of old port wine! 'Tis his wife has subdued
his courage. The women can master us, and did they know their own
strength, were invincible.

Well, then, what happened I know not on that disgraceful day of panic
when your father fled the field, nor dared to see the heroines engage;
but when we returned from our shooting, the battle was over. America had
revolted, and conquered the mother country.

CHAPTER LXXIV. News from Canada

Our Castlewood relatives kept us with them till the commencement of the
new year, and after a fortnight's absence (which seemed like an age
to the absurd and infatuated youn