It would be a terrible
shock to Mr. Crabshaw, with all his proud ideas regarding everything of
this kind, to know that his own daughter was descended from one who had
been an actual traitor, and I shall never inflict the suffering which
such a revelation would cause him. This historic place has given me one
relic which led to all my success, and now I will pay it back with
another relic for which I have no further use."
As he said this he tore into shreds the old commission and threw them
into the ancient cellar.
* * * * *
ELIZABETH.[5]
A ROMANCE OF COLONIAL DAYS.
By Frances C. Sparhawk, Author of "A Lazy Man's Work."
CHAPTER XXII.
THE ARMY SAILS.
Winter was over by the calendar. But neither the skies nor the
thermometer agreed with that. Spring could not bring forward evidences
of her reign while her predecessor's snowy foot was still planted upon
the earth, and showed no haste to get under it. The season had been
unusually mild, but it lingered, fighting the battle with its last
reserve forces, the breath of the icebergs that came rushing up the
harbor like the charge of ten thousand bayonets. Military comparisons
were frequent at that time, for the thoughts of New England were bent
upon war.
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