fair piece of strategy. But I am mortally certain
you yourself will never come back."

The odd thing was that at that moment I did not fear for myself. I had
lived so long with my scheme that I had come to look upon it almost
like a trading venture, in which one calculates risks and gains on
paper, and thinks no more of it. I had none of the black fright which I
had suffered before my meeting with Grey. Happily, though a young man's
thoughts may be long, his fancy takes short views. I was far more
concerned with what might happen in my absence in the Tidewater than
with our fate in the hills.

"It is a gamble," I said, "but the stakes are noble, and I have a
private pride in its success."

"Also the goad of certain bright eyes," he said, smiling. "Little I
thought, when I made that offer last night, I was setting so desperate
a business in train. There was a good Providence in that. For now we
can give out that you are gone on a madcap ploy, and there will be no
sleepless nights in the Tidewater. I must keep their souls easy, for
once they are scared there will be such a spate of letters to New York
as will weaken the courage of our Northern brethren. For the militia I
will give the excuse of the French menace. The good folk will laugh at
me for it, but they will not take fright. God's truth, but it is a
devilish tangle. I could wish I had your part, sir, and be free to ride
out on a gallant venture. Here I have none of the zest of war, but only
a thousand cares and the carking task of soothing fools."

We spoke of many things, and I gave him a full account of the
composition and strength of our levies. When I left he paid me a
compliment, which, coming from so sardonic a soul, gave me peculiar
comfort.

"I have seen something of men and cities, sir," he said, "and I know
well the foibles and the strength of my countrymen; but I have never
met your equal for cold persistence. You are a trader, and have turned
war into a trading venture. I do believe that when you are at your last
gasp you will be found calmly casting up your accounts with life. And I
think you will find a balance on the right side. God speed you, Mr.
Garvald. I love your sober folly."

* * * * *

I had scarcely left him when I met a servant of the Blairs, who handed
me a letter. 'Twas from Elspeth--the first she had ever written me. I
tore it open, and found a very disquieting epistle. Clearly she had
written it i