E. R. Punshon

“ I protest the young man hath an affection for me, and spoke but to warn me. 'To-morrow, Sir Maurice,' quoth'a, 'thou shalt know my errand here—more dreadful to me heading a forlorn hope on a beleaguered town.' Once let me be safe out of this, and I'll meddle-no more with Whig and Tory. They shall be one to me.”
That night they slept at an inn twenty miles from the sea, and Dorothy lay awake in her strange bed-chamber and listened to the clatter of some belated arrival, and wept nearly all the night through—and told herself her tears were for her father's peril. ”

“ He made no further reference to the mysterious errand of which he had spoken to Dorothy, and gave no sign of making the move they dreaded, but expected. Indeed, he made himself so agreeable to the girl as well as to her father that in spite of the fears they entertained of his ultimate purpose, they grew to welcome his appearance as a relief to the monotony of their uneventful country life.
“And, indeed,” Sir Maurice confessed to Dorothy, “he is a most civil, well-instructed young man; nor is he so lacking in respect and reverence for his elders as most young folk are in these modern days. ”

“ An errand he must accomplish with reluctance, yet must attempt or become a ruined man? I know that smooth, fair talk. Not a tipstaff but is full of such phrases. I fear me I am lost—that letter I subscribed has surely reached the knowledge of the Government.”
He had but recently signed some letter whose terms might easily be construed as treason, and seeing her father's fear, Dorothy began again to share his alarms.
“He said it was his purpose to wait on you to-day,” she explained. “I see not how there can be instant peril, else he would not come alone, staying thus openly at the inn. ”