“Well, William,” said my mother, as she renewed a conversation which had been accidentally interrupted, “when you were struck down--” “My foster brother sprang from the ranks, threw away his musket, lifted me lightly as even with this lone arm I would lift you, and carried me--” “In safety from the danger?” “No, no, love--we had to pass through a cross fire of musketry--a ball struck him, and when he fell dead--I was in his arms.” “Would,” said my mother with a sigh, “that our Hector had a foster brother!” “Would that he had! and one so faithful and devoted!”--my father drew his hand across his eyes--“this is too womanly, but--” As he was speaking, the mastiff chained in a kennel beside the hall door began to growl, and the priest rose and peeped cautiously through a shot-hole in the shutters, to ascertain what might have disturbed the dog. Nothing to cause alarm was visible--and the churchman returned to the table, observing, that the night froze keenly. My mother had dropped her knitting on the carpet.--“What a horrid state of things,” observed the lady, as she picked the worsted from the floor, “that a growl from Cæsar sets my heart beating for an hour, and a knock after dark terrifies me almost to death!” “Thou a soldier’s wife, and play the coward!” exclaimed my father. “Fear nothing, Emily; the old tower from roof to basement is secured--there is not a cranny that would admit the cat that I have not under a flanking fire--the lower windows save one are built up--I have retrenched the hall with a barricade, nailed up the back door, and the front one is enfiladed by that embrasure,”--and he pointed to a window in an angle of the room, at either side of which a blunderbuss was standing ready for instant use. “Would that for one night thou and the baby were safe within the convent walls! then let the scoundrels come! By Heaven! next morning there should be more shirts * upon the lawn than were ever spread upon the bleaching ground, and the coroner should have occupation, not by single files, but by the cart-load.” * The _Defenders_ wore shirts over their clothes at night, and hence were also called _White-boys_. While my father spoke, the whole scene was passing in his “mind’s eye,” and _Defenders_ were dropping by the dozen. His face lighted up, and springing from the chair he waved his solitary arm, strode across the chamber, and looked with conscious pride at all his military preparations. My mother grew pale as death, and turning her eyes up she fervently ejaculated, “God forbid!” and crossed herself devoutly. The priest performed a similar ceremony, and uttered a sincere “Amen!” “Pshaw!” said my father, as he passed his arm round my mother’s waist and kissed her tenderly; “do not alarm yourself. This house is strong; nothing but treachery could force it.”