ded that I would do so. I
agreed to call at his house the next day and have another talk with him,
and also meet his daughter, preparatory to my trip to Virginia.

Mr. Crabshaw, who, as I subsequently learned, was descended from an
English family which had been represented in this country for two
generations only, lived in the famous and once aristocratic quarter of
Boston known as West End. A short residence on our republican soil had
done little to Americanize the Crabshaw family, who lived in true
English style. The household consisted only of Mr. Crabshaw and his one
daughter, Cecilia, and a small retinue of servants, although he was not
possessed of any very large wealth. My first meeting with Miss Crabshaw
was at once a pleasure and a surprise; the first because she was a most
charming young lady, and the latter because she was the original of the
picture shown me a few months before by Christopher Gault. I did not
mention the coincidence, however, but proceeded directly to the business
in hand. Miss Cecilia was an exceedingly sensible and intelligent young
lady and I could get more needed information in ten minutes from her
than in half an hour from the old gentleman.

The last time that I met Mr. Crabshaw before going to Virginia, I
mentioned having met Mr. Gault the summer before.

"You got acquainted with him then, did you? I am very glad to know it.
He is a fine young man--a very estimable fellow, sir. I have always
known the family, and always liked Christopher. As you are very likely
aware, he thinks a great deal of Cecilia, and she is a pretty firm
friend of his. Now that is all very well, sir, as long as they don't get
sentimental, or anything of that kind."

"We are constituted so as to grow a little sentimental when the occasion
presents itself, Mr. Crabshaw," I remarked.

"Yes, yes, I understand, but my daughter knows quite well that there is
no occasion for her yet. I might as well tell you," he continued, after
a pause, "that, although it is nothing against Christopher himself,
there is a streak of bad blood in the family. His great-grandfather
_turned traitor_; yes, sir, _committed treason_ against the
crown of England, and then fled. To be sure," he added, "Christopher
Gault is no more responsible for the crime of his ancestor than am I
myself; but the question of blood is an important one, and these traits
are very liable to crop out; if not in one generation, then in another."

"You believe