knew them both very well; but your aunt Lucy had been married some years
before. She was staying there that winter without her husband--he was
abroad somewhere."

Fleda was no stranger to these details and had learned long ago what was
meant by 'wards' and 'the patroon.'

"Your father was made a major some years afterwards," Mr. Ringgan went on,
"for his fine behaviour out here at the West--what's the name of the
place?--I forget it just now--fighting the Indians. There never was
anything finer done."

"He was brave, wasn't he, grandpa?"

"Brave!--he had a heart of iron sometimes, for as soft as it was at
others. And he had an eye, when he was roused, that I never saw anything
that would stand against. But your father had a better sort of courage
than the common sort--he had enough of _that_--but this is a rarer
thing--he never was afraid to do what in his conscience he thought was
right. Moral courage I call it, and it is one of the very noblest
qualities a man can have."

"That's a kind of courage a woman may have," said Fleda.

"Yes--you may have that; and I guess it's the only kind of courage
_you'll_ ever be troubled with," said her grandfather looking laughingly
at her. "However, any man may walk up to the cannon's mouth, but it is
only one here and there that will walk out against men's opinions
because he thinks it is right. That was one of the things I admired most
in your father."