It was the last day of 1813 when the raid that Ferguson had escaped joining was made, and Buffalo and Black Rock went up in flames. Fortunately the terrified inhabitants had fled, when their troops retreated--it is not very clear why--but everything they left was destroyed or carried off. And so 1813 ended, with black ashes strewn on either side of Niagara River, and a blacker hate in the hearts of Americans and Canadians alike. Bee shivered, not with cold, but at the thought of the hate of war, as she left the house one brilliantly cold January day. She meant to take a long sledge drive by herself, and think things over. Like many others on both sides, the war hurt her cruelly, because in many ways it was so like a civil war. Yet after seeing the burning of Newark, she could not blame the savage retaliation from the Canadian side, and she could not hate Ned, or Betty and Sir John, with whom her brother had been quite willing to leave her--"But," she thought, "I cannot possibly be happy, or think of marrying a Canadian till this war is over, without anyone I love getting killed." Then she saw Ned. He had left the house for the first time, to try a short walk, but he had over-rated his strength, and he was staggering, when a cutter drew up beside him, and he looked into Bee's bright face, as she said--"Oh, dear, how foolish men are. When you wanted to go out, why didn't you let someone know, and we would have taken you out. Get in here now." "Just back to the house, please, Miss Bee," said Ned as he obeyed and sat down among the soft, thick furs. "Your guardians would not allow you to be with me a moment, if they knew what you do of me--what I told you at York--Miss Bee, what are you doing?" For the wilful girl had let the spirited horse go, and they were flying out of ruined Newark, and away across the open country, where the keen air thrilled Ned like wine. Her horse kept Bee's hands full, but she looked round at Ned for a moment as she spoke, and he wondered that he had never noticed how bright and soft her eyes were. "Listen," she said, "of course I never repeated what you told me, but I know Cousin Betty suspects something--I thought you must have written and told her--and she doesn't mind at all. She said that women must always overlook a few things in a man, and I'm sure I can overlook you being accused of a crime you did not commit." Ned gasped, realizing that there was a big misunderstanding somewhere--but he was so desperately lonely. Shut in with his secret, it was hard for him to refuse the sweet comradeship of this warm-hearted girl.