She looked inquiringly at us, and then spoke with much courtesy. We returned the compliments of the day in a manner that we thought befitting highborn Britons and conquerors in the presence of sympathetic beauty. I took pride to myself too, because my affair with Belfort had ended as she wished. It seemed to give me a claim upon her. But I observed with some chagrin that neither our manners nor our appearance seemed to make much impression upon Miss Desmond. "Daughter," said Mr. Desmond, in the same expressionless tone that he had used throughout the interview, "these young gentlemen have been kind enough to bring us the news that France and the colonies have signed a formal treaty of alliance for offensive and defensive purposes. The information reached Philadelphia but this morning. I thought it would interest you." I watched her face closely, as I had watched that of her father, expecting to see joy on the father's, sorrow on the daughter's. But they could not have been freer from the appearance of emotion if they had planned it all before. "This will complicate the struggle, I should think," she said, dryly, "and it will increase your chances, Captain Montague and Lieutenant Melville, to win the epaulets of a colonel." "We had expected," I said, "that Miss Desmond, a sincere friend of our cause, would express sorrow at this coalition which is like to prove so dangerous to us." "My respect to my father, who does not believe as I do, forbids it," she said. "But I think the king's troops and his officers, all of them, will be equal to every emergency." We bowed to the compliment, and, there being no further excuse for lingering, departed, patriot father and Tory daughter alike thanking us for our consideration in bringing them the news. "The lady is very beautiful," said Marcel, when we had left the counting-house, "but she sits in the shadow of the North Pole." "Self-restraint," I said, "is a good quality in woman as well as in man." "I see," said Marcel. "It is not very hard to forgive treason when the traitor is a woman and beautiful." "I do not know what you mean," I said, with frigidity. "It does not matter," he replied. "I know." CHAPTER EIGHTEEN--_The Silent Sentinel_ I doubted not that the news of the French alliance would incite Sir William Howe to activity, for any fool could see that, with his splendid army, splendidly equipped, he had allowed his chances to go to ruin. There was increasing talk, and of a very definite nature too, about his removal from the chief command. So far as the subalterns knew, his successor might have been appointed already, and this would be an additional inducement to Sir William to attempt some sudden blow which would shed glory over the close of his career in America, and leave about him the odor of success and not of failure.