He tossed the parchment to the table carelessly, resuming his chair.

"Forgive me," said he, as the general took it. "I have little
taste for such theatricals. Necessity is my only excuse."

"It is enough," said the other. "I am glad to know you. I hope
sometime we shall stop fighting each other--we of the same race and
blood. It is unnatural."

"Give me your hand," said the Englishman, with heartier feeling
than I had seen him show, as he advanced. "Amen! I say to you."

"Will you write your message? Here are ink and paper," said the
general.

His Lordship sat down at the table and hurriedly wrote these
letters:--


"PRESCOTT, ONTARIO, November 17, 1813.

"To SIR CHARLES GRAVLEIGH, The Weirs, above Landsmere, Wrentham,
Frontenac County, Canada.

"MY DEAR GRAVLEIGH: Will you see that the baroness and her two
wards, the Misses de Lambert, are conveyed by my coach, on the
evening of the 18th inst, to that certain point on the shore pike
between Amsbury and Lakeside known as Burnt Ridge, there to wait
back in the timber for my messenger? Tell them they are to be
returned to their home, and give them my very best wishes. Lamson