Chapter 5 - Page 2

frequently,
though I think we have seen less of them, during Nick's absence than
while he was more with us. Still we have as many as a hundred in a
year, perhaps, counting the women. They come in parties, you know, and
five or six of these will make that number. As for travellers, they are
rare; being generally surveyors, land-hunters, or perhaps a proprietor
who is looking up his estate. We had two of the last in the fall,
before we went below."

"That is singular; and yet one might well look for an estate in a
wilderness like this. Who were your proprietors?"

"An elderly man, and a young one. The first was a sort of partner of
the late Sir William's, I believe, who has a grant somewhere near us,
for which he was searching. His name was Fonda. The other was one of
the Beekmans, who has lately succeeded his father in a property of
considerable extent, somewhere at no great distance from us, and came
to take a look at it. They say he has quite a hundred thousand acres,
in one body."

"And did he find his land? Tracts of thousands and tens of thousands,
are sometimes not to be discovered."

"We saw him twice, going and returning, and he was successful. The last
time, he was detained by a snow-storm, and staid with us some days--so
long, indeed, that he remained, and accompanied us out, when we went
below. We saw much of him, too, last winter, in town."

"Maud, you wrote me nothing of all this! Are visiters of this sort so
very common that you do not speak of them in your letters?"

"Did I not?--Beulah will scarce pardon me for _that_. She thinks
Mr. Evert Beekman more worthy of a place in a letter, than I do,
perhaps."

"I think him a very respectable and sensible young man," answered
Beulah quietly though there was a deeper tint on her cheek than common,
which it was too dark to see. "I am not certain, however, he need fill
much space in the letters of either of your sisters.'

"Well, this is _something_ gleaned!" said the major,
laughing--"and now, Beulah, if you will only let out a secret of the
same sort about Maud, I shall be _au fait_ of all the family
mysteries."

"All!" repeated Maud, quickly--"would there be nothing to tell of a
certain major Willoughby, brother of mine?"

"Not a syllable. I am as heart-whole as a sound oak, and hope to remain
so. At all events, all I love is in this house. To tell you the truth,
girls, these are not times for a soldier to think of anything but his
duty. The quarrel is getting to be serious between the mother country
and her colonies."

"Not so serious, brother," observed