heir hats with a gay flourish, turned, and plunged
shoulder-deep into the weeds.

And so they left me, creeping away through the low foliage into
Greenwich Street, while I, rousing myself, turned my steps toward home.
I had no desire to sup; my appetite's edge had been turned by what I
heard concerning Walter Butler. Passing slowly through the graveyard
and skirting the burned church, I entered Broadway, where here and
there a street-lamp was burning. Few people strolled under the
lime-trees; cats prowled and courted and fought in the gutters,
scattering in silent, shadowy flight before me as I crossed the street
to the great house; and so buried in meditation was I that I presently
found myself in my own room, and could not remember how I passed the
door or mounted the long stairway to my chambers.

Dennis came to do my hair, but I drove him out with boots in a sudden,
petty fury new to my nature. Indeed, lying there in my stuffed
armchair, I scarcely knew myself, so strangely sad and sullen ran my
thoughts--not thoughts, either, for at first I followed no definite
train, but a certain irritable despondency clothed me, and trifles
enraged me, leaving me bitter and sick at heart, bearing a weight of
apprehension concerning nothing at all.

Oh, for a week of liberty from this pit of intrigue! Oh, for a day's
freedom to ride like those blue dragoons of Heath I had seen along the
Hudson! Oh, to be free to dog-trot back to the north with those two
gallant scamps of Morgan, and wear a hunting-shirt once more, and lay
the long brown rifle level in this new quarrel coming soon between
these Butlers and these Johnsons and our yeomanry of County Tryon!

"By God!" I muttered, "I care not if they take me, for I'm sick of
spying and lying, so let them hoist me out upon that leafless tree
where better men have swung, and have done with the wretched business
once for all!" Which I meant not, and was silly to fume, and thankless,
too, to anger the Almighty with ingratitude for His long and most
miraculous protection. But I was in a foul humor with the world and
myself, and I knew not what ailed me, either. True, the insolence of
that libertine, Walter Butler, affronted me, and it gave me a sour
pleasure to think how I should quiet his swagger with one plain word
aside.

Following this lead, I fell to thinking in earnest. What would it
mean--a quarrel? Dare he deny the charge? No; I should command, and he
obey, and I'd send him s