In the Days of Poor Richard

  2

  Sir Benjamin received the young man with a warm greeting and friendlywords. Their breakfast was served in a small room where they werealone together, and when they were seated the Baronet observed:

  "I have heard of the duel. It has set some of the best tongues inEngland wagging in praise of 'the Yankee boy.' One would scarcely haveexpected that."

  "No, I was prepared to run for my life--not that I planned to do anygreat damage," said Jack.

  "You can shoot straight--that is evident. They call your delivery ofthat bullet swift, accurate and merciful. Your behavior has pleasedsome very eminent people. The blustering talk of the General excitesno sympathy here. In London, strangers are not likely to be treated asyou were."

  "If I did not believe that I should be leaving it," said Jack. "Ishould not like to take up dueling for an amusement, as some men havedone in France."

  "You are a well built man inside and out," Sir Benjamin answered. "Youmight have a great future in England. I speak advisedly."

  Their talk had taken a turn quite unexpected. It flattered the youngman. He blushed and answered:

  "Sir Benjamin, I have no great faith in my talents."

  "On terms which I would call easy, you could have fame, honor andriches, I would say."

  "At present I want only your daughter. As to the rest, I shall makemyself content with what may naturally come to me."

  "And let me name the terms on which I should be glad to welcome you tomy family."

  "What are the terms?"

  "Loyalty to your King and a will to understand and assist his plans."

  "I could not follow him unless he will change his plans."

  The Baronet put down his fork and looked up at the young man. "Do youreally mean what you say?" he demanded. "Is it so difficult for you todo your duty as a British subject?"

  "Sir Benjamin, always I have been taught that it is the duty of aBritish subject to resist oppression. The plans of the King areoppressive. I can not fall in with them. I love Margaret as I love mylife, but I must keep myself worthy of her. If I could think so wellof my conduct, it is because I have principles that are inviolable."

  "At least I hope you would promise me not to take up arms against theKing."

  "Please don't ask me to do that. It would grieve me to fight againstEngland. I hope it may never be, but I would rather fight than submitto tyranny."

  The Baronet made no reply to this declaration so firmly made. A newlook came into his face. Indignation and resentment were there, but hedid not forget the duty of a host. He began to speak of other things.The breakfast went on to its end in an atmosphere of cool politeness.

  When they were out upon the street together, Sir Benjamin turned to himand said:

  "Now that we are on neutral ground, I want to say that you Americansare a stiff-necked lot of people. You are not like any other breed ofmen. I am done with you. My way can not be yours. Let us part asfriends and gentlemen ought to part. I say good-by with a sense ofregret. I shall never forget your service to my wife and daughter."

  "Think not of that," said the young man. "What I did for them I woulddo for any one who needed my help."

  "I have to ask you to give up all hope of marrying my daughter."

  "That I can not do," said Jack. "Over that hope I have no control. Imight as well promise not to breathe."

  "But I must ask you to give me your word as a gentleman that you willhold no further communication with her."

  "Sir Benjamin, I shall be frank with you. It is an unfair request. Ican not agree to it."

  "What do you say?" the Englishman asked in a tone of astonishment, andhis query was emphasized with a firm tap of his cane on the pavement.

  "I hate to displease you, sir, but if I made such a promise, I would besure to break it."

  "Then, sir, I shall see to it that you have no opportunity to oppose mywill."

  In spite of his fine restraint, the eyes of the Baronet glowed withanger, as he quickly turned from the young man and hurried away.

  "Here is more tyranny," the American thought as he went in the oppositedirection. "But I do not believe he can keep us apart."

  "I walked on and on," he wrote to a friend. "Never had I felt such asense of loss and loneliness and dejection. I almost resented theinflexible tyranny of my own spirit which had turned him against me. Iaccused myself of a kind of selfishness in the matter. Had it beenright in me to take a course which endangered the happiness of another,to say nothing of my own? But I couldn't have done otherwise, not if Ihad known that a mountain were to fall upon me. I am like all of thosewho follow the star in the west. We do as we must. I had not seenFranklin since my duel, and largely because I had been ashamed to facehim. Now I felt the need of his wisdom and so I turned my steps towardhis door."