Robert Stevens returned home, his mind filled with strange, wild thoughts. It was a lovely evening in early spring. The moon, round and full, rose from out its watery bed and shed a soft, refulgent glow on this most delightful of all climes. Below was the bay, on which floated many barks, and among them the vessel which had so recently brought him from Boston. The little town lay quiet and peaceful on the hill where his grandfather and Captain John Smith sixty years ago had planted it. Beyond were the dark forests, gloomy and forbidding, as if they concealed many foes of the white men; but those woods were not all dark and forbidding. From them issued the sweet perfumes of wild flowers and the songs of night birds, such as are known in Virginia. Young Stevens was in no mood to be impressed by the surrounding scenery. He was repeating under his breath: "_Tyranny! tyranny! tyranny!_" Robert loved freedom as dearly as he loved Ester Goffe, and one was as necessary to his existence as the other. Now, on his return to the land of his nativity, he found the ruler, once so mild and popular, grown to a tyrant. "His office is for life," sighed Robert. "And too much power hath made him mad." Reaching the house, he heard voices in the front room and among them that of his sister. She was greatly agitated, and he heard her saying: "No, no, Mr. Peram. I--don't understand you." "Not understand me? I love you, sweet maid. Do I not make myself plain?" "No, no; do not talk that way; pray do not." "But you must promise, sweet maid, to wed me. I adore you." At this the scoundrel caught her hand, and Rebecca uttered a scream of terror. Her brother waited to hear no more, but leaped boldly into the room and, seizing Mr. Giles Peram by the collar of his coat and the waistband of his costly knee-breeches, held him at arm's length, and began applying first one and then another pedal extremity to his anatomy. Mr. Peram squirmed and howled: "Oh, dear! Oh, let me go! This is very extraordinary!" his small eyes growing dim and his fat cheeks pale. "You knave! How dare you thus annoy my sister?" cried Robert, still kicking the rascal. At last he led him to the door and flung him down the front steps, where he fell in a heap on the ground with such force, that one might have thought his neck was broken. Robert turned to his sister and asked: "Where is mother?" "She hath gone with her husband to Greensprings." "And left you alone?" "It was thought you would come." Robert Stevens felt guilty of neglect in lingering too long in the company of men whom Berkeley would regard as conspirators; but he immediately excused himself on the ground that he had had no knowledge of the intended departure of his mother, or that his sister would be left alone. "Have you suffered annoyances from him before?" "Yes." "Does mother know of it?" "She does." "And makes no effort to protect you?"