Attached to the same company as Seaton was a young man named Wilson, like him a volunteer in the cause of liberty; and both being in the spring of youth and promise, they became mutually attached. The hours not devoted to labor were spent in the society of each other. In one of the many changes that the fate of war made in the position of this band of patriots, they encamped in the vicinity of Wilson’s father, and now, when the duties of the camp did not call for the attendance of our friends, the snatches of time were spent at the paternal residence. George Wilson’s father was far advanced in the vale of years, and consequently remained neutral, as far as actions went, in the excitements of the day. But still his heart was with the Colonists in the unequal struggle for their rights. The chief attraction for Seaton, however, was Emma Wilson, the sister of George; and she was well worthy a soldier’s admiration and love. She was a soldier’s sister, full of noble daring, and untameable spirit. At each visit Seaton lingered longer and longer. Each glance of his eye was full of meaning, and told more truly to Emma, than words, the conquest she had made. Seaton feared to offer the hand of a nameless soldier to the sister of his high-souled friend, though that hand had been raised at the altar of liberty. But he was poor, his father had periled his all in the cause of his country, and it had been wrested from him; and now the son had nothing, save his sword and the consciousness of rectitude. But that could not prevent the growth of the passion in the breast of young Seaton; and how often would he think he saw in the hesitation and blushes of Emma, when he requested her to sing his favorite songs, something on which to build a lover’s hopes; and this, though slight, would raise into a flame the fire of his affections.