e, and
from the top of the hills upon a clear day for months a keen lookout
was kept for the appearance from the port of Boulogne of the
expedition Napoleon had gathered there for the invasion of England.

The white sails of the English cruisers as they sailed up or down the
channel were clearly visible, and occasionally a privateer could be
seen making its way westward with a prize it had picked up off Texel.
Military and naval matters were the sole topics of conversation, and
by the time he was fifteen Ralph had fully determined to follow in his
grandfather's footsteps and to become a soldier. Having passed almost
all her life among military men Mrs. Conway had offered no objections
to his wishes, and as several of her father's old friends had promised
to use their influence on his behalf, there was little doubt that he
would be enabled to procure a commission as soon as he reached the
regulation age.

It was not often that the postman called at Mrs. Conway's with
letters; for postage was expensive, and the people in those days only
wrote when they had something particular to say. Mrs. Conway had just
made breakfast when Ralph came in with a letter in his hand.

"Here is a letter for you, mother; but please don't open it until you
have given me my breakfast. I am very late now, and shall barely have
time to get through with it and be there before the gates close."

"Your porridge is quite ready for you, Ralph; so if you are late it
will be your own fault not mine. The eggs will be in before you have
eaten it. However, I won't open the letter until you have gone,
because you will only waste time by asking questions about it."

Ralph began his bread and milk, and Mrs. Conway, stretching out her
hand, took the letter he had laid beside his plate, and turning it
over glanced at the direction to ascertain from which of her few
correspondents it came. For a moment she looked puzzled, then, with a
little start, she laid it down by the side of her plate. She had
recognized the handwriting once so familiar to her.

"What is it, mother? You look quite startled. Who is it from?"

"It is from no one you know, Ralph. I think it is from a person I have
not heard from for some years. At any rate it will keep until you are
off to school."

"It's nothing unpleasant, I hope, mother. Your color has quite gone,
and you look downright pale."

"What should be the matter, you silly boy?" Mrs. Conway said, with an
attempt to smile