t replied.

"Instead of being brilliant, he was positively stupid. I don't like
epaulets," said Berinthia.

"Not those sent to protect us?" Miss Newville asked.

"No."

"Neither do I."

The words were spoken firmly, with an emphasis which Robert alone
could understand.

Miss Newville locked her arm in Berinthia's as if loath to have her
go. They lingered by the gate, how long Robert could not say. Just
what was said he could not recall. He only knew it was delightful to
stand there, to hear her voice, to see the smiles rippling upon her
face, and the loving eyes that turned towards him at times. When at
last the good-night was spoken, when himself and Berinthia were quite
a distance, looking backward he saw her white handkerchief waving them
farewell.

VI.

CHRIST CHURCH CHIMES.

Calm and peaceful was the Sabbath morning in Rumford, where the
stillness was broken only by lowing cattle and singing birds, but in
Boston Robert heard the rattling of drums,--a prolonged roll, as if
the drummers found special pleasure in disturbing the slumbers of the
people. It was the reveille arousing the troops. Mr. Brandon said the
officers of the king's regiments seemed to take delight in having
extra drills on Sunday for the purpose of annoying the people. A few
of the officers, he said, were gentlemen, but others were vile, and
not to be admitted into decent society.

The drums ceased and there was a period of quiet; then suddenly the
air was melodious with the music of bells. Berinthia saw the wonder on
Robert's face.

"It is Christ Church chimes," she said.

He heard "Old Hundred," sweet and enchanting.

"If you would like, we will go to Christ Church this morning."

Robert replied he would gladly go with her.

"The sexton is a Son of Liberty, Robert Newman; you saw him the other
night at the Green Dragon; his brother plays the organ," said Tom.

The sexton welcomed them and gave them seats. Robert gazed in wonder
at the fluted columns, the high arched ceiling, the pillars
supporting the galleries, the great windows, the recess behind the
pulpit, the painting of the Last Supper. He read the words, "This is
none other than the House of God; this is the Gate of Heaven."

The bells ceased their pealing, but suddenly delightful music filled
the church.

[Illustration: Christ Church.]

"That is John Newman at the organ," Berinthia whispered.

It began soft and faint, as if far away--a flute, then a cla