"No, sir," said he. "For, however much you are to be esteemed as a
young gentleman of honour and candour and fine promise, 'tis for me to
consider you rather as an adherent of a government that has persecuted
my country, and now makes war upon it. The day may come when you will
find a more congenial home nearer the crown you have already expressed
your desire to fight for. And then, if Fanny were your wife, you would
carry her off to make an Englishwoman of her, as my first daughter
would have been carried by her husband, upon different motives, but
for this war. Perhaps 'twere better she could have gone," he added,
with a sigh, for Margaret had been his favourite child; "my loss of
her could scarce have been more complete than it is. But 'tis not so
with Fanny."
"But, sir, I am not to take it that you refuse me, definitely,
finally?--I beg--"
"Nay, sir, I only say that we must wait. Let us see what time shall
bring to pass. I believe that you will not--and I am sure that Fanny
will not--endeavour any act without my consent, or against my wish.
Nay, I don't bid you despair, neither. Time shall determine."
I was not so confident that I would not endeavour any act without his
consent; but I shared his certainty that Fanny would not. And so, in
despondency, I took the news to her.
"Well," says she, with a sigh. "We must wait, that's all."
While we were waiting, and during the Fall and Winter, we heard now
and then from Philip, for communication was still possible between New
York and the rebel army proceeding toward Canada.
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