"Not even for Richard's life and freedom, Aunt Clevering?" "I do not believe he has any influence. In love with my daughter--what impudence!" "Rather what good fortune, since it may save your son." "Mother, it seems our one chance; bid me write." And Joscelyn joined in the girl's plea. The older woman's features worked spasmodically, but presently she nodded slowly. "For Richard's sake, Joscelyn, yes; but mind you, Betty will set him out in short order if ever he presumes to declare himself. She knows her duty; no Singleton blood comes into my family." She could not see Betty's face, for Joscelyn stood between them; but two weeks later Eustace kissed the blots where the tears had fallen just under her pleading little postscript:-- "Because of all you said to me in Joscelyn's parlour, because of your red roses which I wore in the privacy of my room until they faded, I beseech you, save my brother!" "But oh, Joscelyn, suppose he can do nothing?" "Then, dear, we must carry our plea to Lord Cornwallis. My father and he were friends in England; perhaps we may gain his ear through that old-time acquaintance." "And how will you reach Cornwallis?" Mistress Clevering asked doubtfully. "If need be, Betty and I will seek him in General Clinton's camp." Betty put her cheek close to the girl's. "Joscelyn, after all you are not indifferent to Richard," she whispered, half wistfully, half joyously. But Joscelyn's face was almost stern. "This letter from Colborn is in truth a plea from Richard, since he must have bid the man write. Think you I could let such a thing pass unanswered--and from your brother, too?" "God bless you, Joscelyn, though your heart is as hard as flint." CHAPTER XV. AN AWAKENING AND A MUTINY. "I can bear scorpion's stings, tread fields of fire, In frozen gulfs of cold eternal lie; Be tossed aloft through tracts of endless void-- But cannot live in shame." --JOANNA BAILLIE.