ul eyes,--eyes habitually earnest and
even grave in expression, yet holding in their brave brown depths a
sweet, childlike reliance and dependency; eyes with a certain tender,
deprecating droop in the brown-fringed lids, and yet eyes that seemed
to say to every man who looked upon them, "I am truthful: be frank with
me." Indeed, I am convinced there is not one of my impressible sex,
who, looking in those pleading eyes, would not have perjured himself on
the spot rather than have disappointed their fair owner.

Capt. Brewster's mouth resumed its old expression of discontent.

"Everything is growing worse, Thankful, and the cause is lost. Congress
does nothing, and Washington is not the man for the crisis. Instead of
marching to Philadelphia, and forcing that wretched rabble of Hancock
and Adams at the point of the bayonet, he writes letters."

"A dignified, formal old fool," interrupted Mistress Thankful
indignantly; "and look at his wife! Didn't Mistress Ford and Mistress
Baily, ay, and the best blood of Morris County, go down to his
Excellency's in their finest bibs and tuckers, and didn't they find my
lady in a pinafore doing chores? Vastly polite treatment, indeed! As
if the whole world didn't know that the general was taken by surprise
when my lady came riding up from Virginia with all those fine
cavaliers, just to see what his Excellency was doing at these assembly
balls. And fine doings, I dare say."

"This is but idle gossip, Thankful," said Capt. Brewster with the
faintest appearance of self-consciousness; "the assembly balls are
conceived by the general to strengthen the confidence of the townsfolk,
and mitigate the rigors of the winter encampment. I go there myself
rarely: I have but little taste for junketing and gavotting, with my
country in such need. No, Thankful! What we want is a leader; and the
men of Connecticut feel it keenly. If I have been spoken of in that
regard," added the captain with a slight inflation of his manly breast,
"it is because they know of my sacrifices,--because as New England
yeomen they know my devotion to the cause. They know of my suffering--"

The bright face that looked into his was suddenly afire with womanly
sympathy, the pretty brow was knit, the sweet eyes overflowed with
tenderness. "Forgive me, Allan. I forgot--perhaps, love--perhaps,
dearest, you are hungry now."

"No, not now," replied Captain Brewster, with gloomy stoicism; "yet,"
he added, "it is n