We may confess for John Stanburne that he had not much of that courage which rejoices in verbal encounters, or if he had, it was of that kind which dares to do what the man is constitutionally most afraid to do. The reader may remember an anecdote of another English officer, who, as he went into battle, betrayed the external signs of fear, and in reply to a young subaltern, who had the impudence to taunt him, said, "Yes, I _am_ afraid, and if you were as much afraid as I am, you would run away." Yet, by the strength of his will, he conducted himself like a true soldier. And there is that other stirring anecdote about a French commander, who, when his body trembled at the opening of a battle, thus apostrophized it: "Tu trembles, vile carcasse! tu tremblerais bien plus si tu savais où je vais te mener!" If these men were cowards, John Stanburne was a coward too, for he mortally dreaded this encounter with the Ogdens; but if they were not cowards (having will enough to neutralize that defect of nature), neither was John Stanburne. Lieutenant Ogden rose from his seat, and bowed rather stiffly as the Colonel entered. Mrs. Ogden made a just perceptible inclination of the head, and conveyed to her mouth a spoonful of boiled egg, which she had just dipped in the salt. "I beg pardon," said the Colonel, "for intruding upon you during breakfast time, but--but I was anxious"--The moment of hesitation which followed was at once taken advantage of by Mrs. Ogden. "And is that all you've come to beg pardon for?" This thrust put the Colonel more on his defence than a pleasanter reception would have done. He had intended to offer nothing but a very polite apology; but as there seemed to be a disposition on the part of the enemy to extort concessions so as to deprive them of the grace of being voluntary, he withdrew into his own retrenchments. "I came to ask Mr. Ogden for an explanation about his letter of this morning." "I should think you need no explanations, Colonel Stanburne. You know what passed yesterday evening." "He knows that well enough," said Mrs. Ogden. "I should be glad if Lieutenant Ogden would tell me in detail what he thinks that he has to complain of." "Leaftenant! Leaftenant! nay, there's no more leaftenantin', I reckon. This is Isaac Ogden--plain Isaac Ogden--an' nout elz. He's given up playin' at soldiers. He's a cotton-spinner, or he were one, nobbut his brother an' him quarrelled; and I wish they hadn't done, many a time I do--for our Jacob's as much as ever he can manage, now as he's buildin' a new mill; an' if he gets wed--and there's Hiram Ratcliff's dorther"--Mrs. Ogden might have gone very far into family matters if her son had not perceived (or imagined that he perceived) something like a smile on Colonel Stanburne's face. In point of fact, the Colonel did not precisely smile; but there was a general relaxation of the muscles of his physiognomy from their first expression of severity, betraying an inward tendency to humor.