"I am Lord Ronley, fifth Earl of Pickford, and, cousin of his Most Excellent Majesty the King of England; there is the proof."
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
