Baronald's nether lip quivered at this retort, and the Countess and Dolores exchanged glances of uneasiness; for politics had become so embittered by the American Squadron, which had recently captured H.M.'s ships _Serapis_ and _Scarborough_, having taken them into the Texel, and when General Yorke claimed those ships and their crews, the Dutch refused to restore them, and soon after Commodore Fielding fired upon their squadron under Count Bylandt, and took him into Portsmouth; so war was looked for daily, while the Scots Brigade were yet serving under the Dutch colours. 'Do not let us think or speak of such things, Cousin Maurice,' said Dolores imploringly; 'I tremble at the idea of Britain invading us, if this sort of work goes on. What have we to do with her colonists and their quarrels?' 'Invade us, indeed!' said Morganstjern, with angry mockery; 'if our swords fail us we can open the sluices, as we did in the days of Louis XIV., and drown every man and mother's son!' 'But how should we escape ourselves?' asked the Countess. 'Good generalship would take care of that; and then how about your Scots Brigade?' asked Morganstjern, turning abruptly to Baronald. 'The Bulwark of Holland, we have never failed her yet,' replied the latter haughtily; 'but to draw the sword upon our own countrymen is certainly a matter for consideration.' 'In Holland, perhaps, but not in America.' 'Let this subject cease,' said the Countess imperatively, while fanning herself with an air of excessive annoyance; and now Morganstjern, beginning to find himself _de trop_, bowed himself out, and with vengeance gathering in his heart, withdrew to an estaminet, or tavern, where he knew that he would find his friend the Heer van Schrekhorn, and whither we may perhaps follow him. To Lewie Baronald, who was naturally destitute of much personal vanity, it had hitherto seemed rather strange that the Countess had permitted his attentions to her daughter at all, though he was known to be the heir of his uncle; and now that he had all the joy of knowing himself to be her accepted lover, his soul trembled within him at the prospect of having to announce General Kinloch's utter hostility to the mother. Lewie had more than once observed that the Countess always smiled, or laughed outright, when his uncle the General was spoken of, as if she considered him somewhat of a character--an _excentrique_. 'You have seen the General, I presume, since you were here last?' said she. 'Yes, madam,' replied Lewie, painfully colouring. 'And told him of your love for Dolores--of your engagement to her, in fact?' 'Yes, madam; he seems to have suspected it for some time past.' 'Suspected--that sounds unpleasant.' Lewie played with the feather in his regimental hat, and his colour deepened, when the Countess said: 'Then he is coming to wait upon me, I presume?' 'Alas--no, madam.' 'Indeed--why?' 'He is averse to the society of ladies.' 'In fact, is a woman-hater, I have heard.'