"For an hour I waited there in the grass, hoping for him to come; and when I dared stay no longer I crept to the hillside and hid in a little cave, from which I watched the army in the distance take up its march next day. I started once to go back and die with Richard in prison, but--" "Talk not so, my son; 'twould have killed me and done Richard no good," cried his mother, caressing his curly head against her shoulder. "Richard did not want you back--God bless him for a generous lad!" "No," sobbed the lad, "he is so noble, so good; and I let him go back, let him sacrifice himself for me, for had I but slept on he would have gotten away." All this while Mistress Clevering had not spoken; now she lifted her head, and no mother of Sparta ever looked more proud or more resigned. "Yes, you were right to come away; he gave you your freedom at the cost of his own, and it would have grieved him had you returned and made the sacrifice useless. 'Tis a beautiful thing to be the mother of a son like that. I am content." And Martha Strudwick leaned over and kissed her softly. "And how fared it with you when the British had marched away?" asked his mother of Billy. "I reached the coast and followed it for two days, when I came to a village whence a trading vessel was leaving to smuggle its cargo to the south. The captain took me on, and after ten days I was put ashore near New Berne town, from which place I have made my way home, travelling with the post these two days." "You have not then been back to the army?" "No, but I shall start to-morrow, now that I have seen you, mother, and when I have given Richard's messages to Mistress Clevering and--" He stopped; but his glance had travelled to Joscelyn standing at the edge of the crowd, and Janet Cameron laughed. "What said my boy? Out with it!" cried Mistress Clevering, eagerly. "He did send you his dear love, even as he was to bring mine to mother had I been the one left behind. I would I could tell you how reverent and tender his voice was when he spoke your name." The Spartan in the woman broke down, and the mother prevailed. "My son, my dear son, did God give you in answer to my prayers only to take you away like this? What may he not be suffering at this very moment, and I who have watched him from his cradle powerless to help him! Oh, but war is a cruel thing! My son, my son!" Betty and Mistress Cheshire led her away weeping, and for a few minutes, silence held the women as they looked away to the north and thought of the strife enacting, and the pain being endured there for liberty. And besides those carried away into captivity, how many others--perhaps their own nearest and dearest--had been left on the battle-field? "See," cried Amanda Bryce, turning fiercely on Joscelyn, whose eyes, full of a misty tenderness, were following Aunt Clevering down the street--"see what you miserable Tories are doing to us, your neighbours! Shame upon you, I say; shame upon you!"