Mother, hear me. There is no danger in my staying here,--none real. The
guard still keep their station on yonder hill, and the fort itself will
not be wholly abandoned to-day. Everard will come for me at noon.--It is
impossible that the enemy should be here ere then; nay, the news of this
unlooked-for movement will scarce have reached their camp.--_Real_
danger there is none, and--Do not urge me. I know what you would say;
the bitter cost I have counted all, already, all--_all_. That Maitland
is in yonder camp, that--is it not a strange blessedness which can
sweeten anguish such as this?--that he loves me still, that he will come
here to-day to make me his forever,--this is all that I can say, my
mother.
_Mrs. G_. Will you go over to the British side, Helen? Will you go over
to the side of wrong and oppression? Would you link yourself with our
cruel and pursuing enemy? Oh no, no no,--that could not be--never, Amid
the world of fearful thoughts that name brings, how could we place your
image? Oh God, I did not count on this. I knew that this war was to
bring us toil, and want, and fear, and haply bloody death; and I could
have borne it unmurmuringly; but--God forgive me,--that the child I
nursed in these arms should forsake me, and join with our deadly foes
against us--I did not count on this.
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