“I have held my tongue,” she said. “These people have neither manners nor hearts. I told Mr. Shippen as much. And where does your general get all his money? It is vulgar, this waste. Look!” she said; “look there! It is well to feed the poor after a wedding; I like the old custom; but this is mere ostentation.” It was true; there was a crowd of the neighbouring farm people about the detached kitchen, eager for the food and rum which I saw given daily in absurd profusion. My Aunt Gainor shook her head. “It will turn out badly, Hugh. This comes of a woman marrying beneath her. The man may be a good soldier,--oh, no doubt he is,--but he is not a gentleman. You must get away, Hugh.” Indeed, I much desired to do so, but until now had been detained, despite repeated applications to my chief. My aunt said no more, but went into the house, leaving me to await the coming of the many guests, men and women, gentlemen of the Congress, with officers in uniform, who flocked to this too hospitable mansion. I had just heard from Jack, and the contrast shown by his account of the want of arms, clothing, and food seemed to me most sad when I reflected upon the extravagance and useless excess I had seen throughout the winter now at an end. I did not wonder at my aunt’s anger. Her fears were but the vague anticipations of a wise old woman who had seen the world and used good eyes and a sagacious brain. How little did she or I dream of the tragedy of dishonour into which the mad waste, the growing debts, the bitterness of an insulted and ambitious spirit, were to lead the host of this gay house! As I turned in my walk I saw the general dismount, and went to meet him. He said: “I shall want you at nine to-night at my quarters in town--an errand of moment into the Jerseys. You must leave early to-morrow. Are you well horsed?” I said yes, and was, in fact, glad of any more active life. Before nine that night I went to headquarters, and found a number of invitations to dine or sup. It may amuse those for whom I write to know that nearly all were writ on the white backs of playing-cards; but one from Madam Arnold was printed. I sat down, facing the open doorway into the general’s room, and began to write refusals, not knowing how long I might be absent. Presently looking up, I saw the general at his desk. I had not heard him enter. Two candles were in front of him. He was sitting with his cheeks resting on his hands and his elbows on the desk, facing me, and so deep in thought that I did not think fit to interrupt him. His large, ruddy features now were pale and sombre, and twice I saw him use his kerchief to mop his brow as if it were moist from overheating.