“Oh, Francis, who hath bewitched you? Why did you return to England? Why did you leave the green savannas of the New World, and your pure and peaceful labours, for scenes of strife and of rebellion? Away--afar--separated from me by the stormy ocean--and too painfully conscious myself that the course of our true love never could run smooth--I had a comfort in your absence. We are divided in time, was my thought--but not for ever. There is a high and distant region, where we may meet again to part no more;--but now, Francis--it is not too late--put off these arms--return to America. Here, now, let us take our last and long farewell. Return to your father, and give me back the happiness of knowing that he who loves me may be, without a crime, beloved again. Yes--I have loved you well. I have known that our union was impossible:--to honour a parent’s will is the duty of a child. But hear me, Francis:--if all such obstacles were by some magic power removed,--if fortune crowned you with all those gifts of wealth and station, which so generally secure the consent of fathers and the approval of the world,--never would I accept the hand of that man, who had raised his sword against his king.” While Katharine was delivering this earnest, fond remonstrance, with all the tenderness of a woman, but with a tone of decision towards the close at once solemn and mournful, Francis stood pale and attentive, with eyes that regarded her countenance admiringly. He remained silent for more than a minute after she had ceased from speaking, as if waiting to hear more; then coming closer to her, he took her hand, gazed on her with intense affection, and slowly answered,-- “With due deliberation of my deed, I took commission of the Parliament, and swore the oath prescribed; and I will keep it, Katharine, as a soldier should. You live at home, as women use to do, and therefore cannot know the truth of this great nation’s quarrel with its king. Spirits there are in this bad world, to whom their own security and peace bring no content, while any are debarred a common right. Such lead the people now; such, standing up in arms, demand for all, true liberty--and I am with them. The anointed head of England’s king is to me, as to you, sacred, and I would defend it from the swords of my own squadrons should any dare to threaten it. You have none near you, my beloved Katharine, to show you things in their true colours, and your gentle and pious fear of evil misleads your better judgment.”