thunderbolt from heaven, or
the Major for a despot!"

When, as the spring went on, men came from the political turmoil to ask for
his advice, he repeated the words with a conviction that was in itself a
ring of emphasis.

"We are in the Union, gentlemen, for better or for worse"--and of all the
guests who drank his Madeira under the pleasant shade of his maples, only
the Major found voice to raise a protest.

"We'll learn, sir, we'll live and learn," interposed the old gentleman.

"Let us hope we shall live easily," said the doctor, lifting his glass.

"And learn wisdom," added the rector, with a chuckle.

Through the spring and summer they rode leisurely back and forth, bringing
bundles of newspapers when they came, and taking away with them a memory of
the broad white portico and the mellow wine.

The Major took a spasmodic part in the discussions of peace or war, sitting
sometimes in a moody silence, and flaring up, like an exhausted candle, at
the news of an abolition outbreak. In his heart he regarded the state of
peace as a mean and beggarly condition and the sure resort of bloodless
cowards; but even a prospect of the inspiring dash of war could not elicit
so much as the semblance of his old ardour. His smile flashed but seldom
over his harsh features--it needed indeed the presence of Mrs. Ambler or of
Betty to bring it forth--and his erect figure had given way in the chest,
as if a strong wind bent him forward when he walked.

"He has grown to be an old man," his neighbours said pityingly; and it is
true that the weight of his years had fallen upon him in a night--as if he
had gone to bed in a hale old age, with the sap of youth in his veins, to
awaken with bleared eyes and a trembling hand. Since the day of his wife's
return from the tavern, when he had peered from his hiding-place in his
library window, he had not mentioned his grandson by name; and yet the
thought of him seemed forever lying beneath his captious exclamations. He
pricked nervously at the subject, made roundabout allusions to the base
ingratitude from which he suffered; and the desertion of Big Abel had
damned for him the whole faithful race from which the offender sprang.

"They are all alike," he sweepingly declared. "There is not a trustworthy
one among them. They'll eat my bread and steal my chickens, and then run
off with the first scapegrace that gives them a chance."

"I think Big Abel did just right," said Betty, fearlessly.