boyhood's friend,
and the shame of his turning traitor. I hear that Benedict Arnold has
joined the King's forces, and of a surety he and they would be well
matched in any fight.

"I have a presentiment I shall never see my pretty darling again.
Primrose, I love thee more than thou canst imagine. I would that I had
thee and that we two were going to England out of this terrible strife.
Farewell.

"Thine own dear brother,

"PHIL."

Primrose ran weeping to her aunt and gave her the long epistle. Madam
Wetherill tried to comfort her, and presently she dried her tears a
little.

"We can hardly call him a traitor,--Gilbert Vane, I mean,--for he has
not really betrayed his country, but changed his mind. And I think it
very brave of him when he might go to England and live in luxury," said
Primrose in a broken voice.

"Thou art quick to see the heroic side. Of course, if he should be taken
prisoner, he would be put to death without mercy."

"But he does not sell his country!" with emphasis. "Oh, poor, dear Phil!
My heart aches for him. And yet, if the British soldiers begin to see
the doubtfulness of a final conquest, I think there must be hope. But
what can I say to Philemon? I seem destined to be always divided in
opposite directions."

"That is very true," and Madam Wetherill smiled rather sadly. For it
seemed hard indeed that brother and sister should have such opposing
interests. Many a girl would have been won at once by the proffer of
pleasure.

But Primrose did not have very long to consider. Another note came from
New York. Tired of inaction, Philemon Nevitt had asked that some more
stirring duty should be allotted to him, and he was transferred to
another body of troops, who were watching the Americans and harassing
them in the vicinity of Morristown. It was said deserters from the
British army had transferred their allegiance, and Colonel Nevitt
determined to put a stop to this, and capture some of them to make an
example the soldiers would dread in future.

"When he writes like this I hate him!" and Primrose stamped her dainty
foot upon the floor, while her eyes flashed with curious steely gleams
that seemed to have black points. "It does not seem as if the same blood
could run in our veins, but then he hath none of my own dear mother's
sweetness. If he were related to her my heart would break. And I think
he must have some of the characteristics of