“This is well, captain Willoughby,” put in the major, in order to anticipate any objections from his father; “and the sooner a thing of this sort is done, the better will it be for all concerned.  I am ready to proceed this instant; and I take it this worthy man—­I think you called him Strides—­is quite as willing.”

Joel signified his assent; and the captain, perceiving no means of retreat, was fain to yield.  He took the major into the bed-room, however, and held a minute’s private discourse, when he returned, and bade the two go forth together.

“Your companion has his instructions, Joel,” the captain observed, as they left the library together; “and you will follow his advice.  Show the white flag as soon as you quit the gate; if they are true warriors, it must be respected.”

Robert Willoughby was too intent on business, and too fearful of the reappearance and reproachful looks of Maud, to delay.  He had passed the court, and was at the outer gate, before any of the garrison even noted his appearance among them.  Here, indeed, the father’s heart felt a pang; and, but for his military pride, the captain would gladly have recalled his consent.  It was too late, however; and, squeezing his hand, he suffered his son to pass outward.  Joel followed steadily, as to appearances, though not without misgivings as to what might be the consequences to himself and his growing family.

Chapter XVII.

  “I worship not the sun at noon,
  The wandering stars, the changing moon,
  The wind, the flood, the flame;
  I will not bow the votive knee
  To wisdom, virtue, liberty;
  There is no god, but God for me,
  Jehovah is his name.”

  Montgomery.

So sudden and unexpected had been the passage of Robert Willoughby through the court, and among the men on post without the inner gates, that no one recognised his person.  A few saw that a stranger was in their midst; but, under his disguise, no one was quick enough of eye and thought to ascertain who that stranger was.  The little white flag that they displayed, denoted the errand of the messengers; the rest was left to conjecture.

As soon as captain Willoughby ascertained that the alarm of the morning was not likely to lead to any immediate results, he had dismissed all the men, with the exception of a small guard, that was stationed near the outer gait, under the immediate orders of serjeant Joyce.  The latter was one of those soldiers who view the details of the profession as forming its great essentials; and when he saw his commander about to direct a sortie, it formed his pride not to ask questions, and to seem to know nothing about it.  To this, Jamie Allen, who composed one of the guard, quietly assented; but it was a great privation to the three or four New England-men to be commanded not to inquire into the why and wherefore.