Honesty and fidelity and intelligence spoke out from his eyes, and affection and anxiety were heard in his voice.
"Lieutenant Seymour," he repeated, "where is he, sir ?" "There," said Talbot, stepping aside and pointing to the floor.
"Not dead, sir, is he ?" "Not yet, Bentley," Seymour, with regaining strength, replied; "I am not done for this time." "Oh, Mr.John, Mr.John," said the old man, tenderly, bending over him, "I thank God to see you alive again.

But, as I live, they shall pay dear for this--whoever has done it,--the bloody, marauding, ruffians!" "Yes, Bentley, I join you in that vow," said Talbot.
"And I too," added Philip, bravely.
"And I," whispered the wounded man.
"It's one more score that has got to be paid off by King George's men, one more outrage on this country, one more debt we owe the English," Bentley continued fiercely.
"No; these were Americans, Virginians,--more's the shame,--led by that blackguard Johnson.

He has long hated the colonel," replied Talbot.
"Curses on the renegades!" said the old man.

"Who is it that loves freedom and sees not that the blow must be struck to-day?
How can any man born in this land hesitate to--" He stopped suddenly, as his eyes fell upon Talbot, whose previous irresolution and refusal had been no secret to him.
"Don't stop for me, Bentley," said that young man, gently; "I am with you now.

I came over this evening to tell our friends here that I start north tomorrow as a volunteer to offer my services to General Washington." "Oh, Hilary," exclaimed Philip, joyfully, "I am so glad.