For Love of Country | Page 3

of men who in this war and in the next were
to shed such imperishable lustre upon American arms by their exploits
in the naval service. Born of an old and distinguished Philadelphia
family, so proud of its name that in his instance they had doubled it, the
usual bluntness and roughness of the sea were tempered by this gentle
birth and breeding, and by frequent attrition with men and women of
the politest society of the largest and most important city of the
colonies. Offering his services as soon as the news of Lexington
precipitated the conflict with the mother country, he had already made
his name known among that gallant band of seamen among whom
Jones, Biddle, Dale, and Conyngham were pre-eminent.
The delicious silence which he had been unwilling to break, since it

permitted him to gaze undisturbed upon his fair shipmate, was
terminated at last by that lady herself.
She looked up from the water with which she had been playing, and
then appearing to notice for the first time his steady ardent gaze, she
laughed lightly and said,--
"Well, sir, it grows late. When you have finished contemplating the
scenery, perhaps you will turn the boat, and take me home; then you
can feast your eyes upon something more attractive."
"And what is that, pray?" he asked.
"Your supper, sir. You must be very anxious for it by this time, and
really you know you look quite hungry. We have been out so long; but
I will have pity on you, and detain you no longer here. Turn the boat
around, Lieutenant Seymour, and put me on shore at once. I will stand
between no man and his dinner."
"Hungry? Yes, I am, but not for dinner,--for you, Mistress Katharine,"
he replied.
"Oh, what a horrid appetite! I don't feel safe in the boat with you. Are
you very hungry?"
"Really, Miss Wilton, I am not jesting at all," he said with immense
dignity.
"Oh! oh! He is in earnest. Shall I scream? No use; we are a mile from
the house, at least."
"Oh, Miss Wilton--Katharine," he replied desperately, "I am devoured
by my--"
"Lieutenant Seymour!" She drew herself up with great hauteur, letting
the cloak drop about her waist.
"Madam!"

"Only my friends call me Katharine."
"And am I not, may I not be, one of your friends?"
"Well, yes--I suppose so; but you are so young."
"I am just twenty-seven, madam, and you, I suppose, are--"
"Never be ungallant enough to suppose a young lady's age. You may do
those things in Philadelphia, if you like, but 't is not the custom here.
Besides, I mean too young a friend; you have not known me long
enough, that is."
"Long enough! I have known you ever since Tuesday of last week."
"And this is Friday,--just ten days, ten long days!" she replied
triumphantly.
"Long days!" he cried. "Very short ones, for me."
"Long or short, sir, do you think you can know me in that period? Is it
possible I am so easily fathomed?" she went on, smiling.
Now it is ill making love in a rowboat at best, and when one is in
earnest and the other jests it is well-nigh impossible; so to these
remarks Lieutenant Seymour made no further answer, save viciously to
ply the oars and drive the boat rapidly toward the landing.
Miss Katharine gazed vacantly about the familiar river upon whose
banks she had been born and bred, and, finally noticing the sun had
gone down, closing the short day, she once more drew her cloak closely
about her and resumed the neglected conversation.
"Won't you please stop looking at me in that manner, and won't you
please row harder, or is your strength all centred in your gaze?"
"I am rowing as fast as I can, Miss Wilton, especially with this--"
"Oh, I forgot your wounded shoulder! Does it hurt? Does it pain you? I

am so sorry. Let me row."
"Thank you, no. I think I can manage it myself. The only pain I have is
when you are unkind to me."
At that moment, to his great annoyance, his oar stuck fast in the
oar-lock, and he straightway did that very unsailorly thing known as
catching a crab.
Katharine Wilton laughed. There was music in her voice, but this time
it did not awaken a responsive chord in the young man. Extricating his
oar violently, he silently resumed his work.
"Do you like crabs, Mr. Seymour?" she said with apparent irrelevance.
"I don't like catching them, Miss Wilton," he admitted ruefully.
"Oh, I mean eating them! We were talking about your appetite, were
we not? Well, Dinah devils them deliciously. I 'll have some done for
you," she continued with suspicious innocence.
Seymour groaned in spirit