ou have described it.
Sir Henry is aware of the trial he imposes upon you. He would have you
act with the caution which your wisdom dictates; and if it should become
necessary to speak that word which is to bring the wrath of the rebels
upon your head, remember there is sanctuary and defence under the broad
banner of England. Who so welcome there as Philip Lindsay? Even at this
moment our councils should be tempered by your presence, and it becomes
almost a patriotic duty to pluck you from the seclusion of the Dove
Cote, and give you a share in the stirring events of the day. Sir, the
country has a claim upon your services, scarce compatible with the idle
contemplation of this momentous trial of strength."

Lindsay had advanced to the window, where he remained looking over the
moon-lit scene. His companion stood close beside him, and after a short
interval took his arm, when they stepped forth upon the porch, and
sauntered backward and forward, as Tyrrel continued,

"The government would not be unmindful of the benefits you might confer.
There are offices of trust and dignity to be filled in this province
when it shall be restored to its allegiance. The highest post would not
be unfitly bestowed, if it should be assigned to you. Sir Henry Clinton
bids me speak of that, as of a subject that has already occupied his
thoughts. It would give grace and dignity to our resumed authority, to
have it illustrated by the accomplished scholar and discreet statesman,
who has, before this, discharged important and difficult trusts with a
fidelity that has won all men's esteem. And then, my dear sir," he added
after a pause, "who may say that it shall not be Sir Philip Lindsay, or
even something yet higher?--a coronet would not be an honor unsuited
even to the wilds of Virginia. His majesty is not slow to discern worth,
nor backward to raise it to its proper station. These are toys and
baubles to you, Mr. Lindsay, but they are still worth the seeking. You
have a son to follow you."

"Ah! there, Mr. Tyrrel, you touch me more nearly than you imagine. You
remind me by this language that I have also a daughter. As to Henry, he
has a temper and a capacity to make his own way through the world. I
fear not for him--nor would I seek for honors to add to his name. But my
Mildred! You know not what emotions the thought of her, in these
troubles, costs me. Who shall guard and defend her, whilst I pursue this
waylaid road of ambition? What sanc