t I give room to
think I mean to fly from my neutrality. These papers that lie upon that
table might cost me my life: your presence here, were your purpose
known, might consign me to captivity or exile:--one random word spoken
might give me over to the censures of the power that holds its usurped
domination in the province. What aid may be expected from one so
guarded, fettered, watched and powerless?"

"And can you patiently," exclaimed Tyrrel, "bow to this oppression? You,
a native born freeman of the province--a Briton, nursed in the sunny
light of liberty! Shall your freedom of speech be circumscribed, your
footsteps be followed by spies and traitors, your very inmost thoughts
be read and brought up to the censure of the judgment seat? Shall these
things be, and the blood still continue to run coolly and temperately
through your veins! There are ills, Mr. Lindsay, which even your calm
philosophy may not master. But, perhaps, I have mistaken your temper:
these evidences, at least, shall not put you in peril," he said, as he
took up the letters from the table and held them over the candle, and
then threw the flaming mass upon the hearth. "That fear, I hope, is
removed; and as for my presence here, one word briefly spoken, and it
shall not longer jeopard your safety."

Lindsay looked fixedly at his companion as he destroyed the papers, and
then said with a stern emphasis--

"Your duty, sir, is in the field. You have been bred to a profession
that teaches you blind obedience to orders. It is not your part to weigh
the right of the cause, nor to falter in the execution of any foul
purpose of blood, so that it come under the name of honorable warfare.
Therefore I excuse this unbecoming warmth: but do not presume upon the
hazardous nature of your calling, and fancy that it implies more
fidelity to the king than the allegiance of his more peaceful subjects.
It is a thought unworthy of you that fear of disaster to myself--be it
ten-fold more imminent than it has yet been--should arrest my step in
that path where my country's honor, or my sovereign's command, bids me
advance."

"Worthy and excellent friend," said Tyrrel, taking Lindsay's hand, "I
have done you wrong. I am rash and headlong in my temper, and my tongue
often speaks what my heart disavows. I am little better than a boy, Mr.
Lindsay, and a foolish one; I humbly crave your pardon."

"Speak on," said Lindsay.

"Then briefly this. Your situation is all that y