have done them--remaining there? I had no wish to visit my relatives in
Albany! It is a trick--a device! I doubt I shall ever lay eyes on my dear
home again."

And, poor lady, she never did.

We strove to speak words of comfort to her, but they came but feebly, and
could not have consoled her much. When the lieutenant opened the door, the
women made a tearful adieu, with sobs and kisses upon which I could not
bear to look. Lady Johnson shook hands with me, still with a pathetic
quivering of the lips. But then in an instant she straightened herself to
her full height, bit her lips tight, and walked proudly past the obnoxious
escort down the path to the carriage, followed by her weeping sister and
the two big-eyed wondering children.

"Will she ever come back?" said Daisy, half in inquiry, half in despairing
exclamation, as we saw the last of the carriage and its guard. "How will
it all end, Douw?"

"Who can foresee?" I answered. "It is war now, at last, war open and
desperate. I can see no peaceful way out of it. These aristocratic
landlords, these Johnsons, Butlers, Phillipses, De Lanceys, and the rest,
will not give up their estates without a hard fight for them. Of that you
may be sure. _They_ will come back, if their wives do not, and all that
they can do, backed by England, to regain their positions, will be done.
They may win, and if they do, it will be our necks that will be put into
the yoke--or the halter. At all events, it has gone too far to be patched
over now. We can only stand up and fight as stoutly as we may, and leave
the rest to fate."