"He has not been with me," replied Hillhouse with some constraint;
"indeed, I think he was to be sent on some special service."

"Give him my best affection," said Betty. "And oh, sir, to my little
sister at home pray deliver my fondest love," and tears were brimming in
Betty's eyes as Caesar flicked his whip at the horses' heads and the
coach started.

The road being somewhat better than that already traveled, the miles
which intervened between Ridgefield and White Plains were more briskly
done, and Caesar had the satisfaction of pulling up his horses in good
condition before the well-known tavern at the latter place in time for
dinner. The somewhat pretentious sign hanging out over the door had been
changed to suit the times and the tempers of the guests, for what had
previously read "The King's Arms, Accommodations for Man and Beast," was
now "The Washington Inn," and beneath it a picture in Continental
uniform of a man whose rubicund countenance required considerable
imagination to transform into a likeness of the commander-in-chief. As
their happened to be a lack of hostlers, it took some time to get the
horses baited, and it was later than Mrs. Seymour could have wished when
Caesar finally made his appearance and informed his mistress that all
was ready for their departure. The weather had been growing colder
steadily, and greatly to their surprise the travelers learned that in
all probability Harlem River was frozen, and grave doubts were expressed
by mine host of the inn whether the ladies could gain their journey's
end without much discomfort and exposure. But Mrs. Seymour and Betty
were both of the opinion that it was inexpedient to linger longer on the
road, so for the fourth time they climbed into the coach, and, muffling
themselves as closely as possible to keep out the cold, pursued their
onward way.