Lionel Ainsworth, or, The young partisan's doom
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DANENHOWER, 123 Lake Street, Chicago, Ill. e Subscriptions received at either of the above places. page: 0[View Page 0] "ONEL AINSWORTH. CHAPTER I. THE YOUNG REBEL OFFICER. -- You that do abet him In this kind, Cherbth rebelion, and are rebels all, If I could, by him that gave me life I would attach you all, and make you stoop, Unto the sovereign mery of the king.-- Kg Richard 17. It was the nineteenth of May, exactly one month after the battle of Lexington. In the par- lor of a large and handsome mansion, a few miles from Boston, Mr. Carwick and his family, to. gether with a number of invited guests, were. seated at table. A person unacquainted with the political principles of those assembled,would, on entering, have known-at once that they were royalists, the table being graced with an elegant tea-service, while all present, save one young girl, were sipping the fragrant beverage which had long been abjured by those who professed to be the true friends of libeity. Mr. Carwick had for the- last five years held an office of trust and' emolument, conferred by the British government, and had, on -all occa- sions, zealously advocated those measures that, by a great number of the colonists, were deemed unjust and oppressive. The young girl, whose cup of tea sat by the side of her plate untasted, Was Mr. Carwick's niece, and the daughter of his o0ly sister.- Though her complexion was rich and blooming, and her features of the most delicate mould, her countenance owed its chief charm to its va. rying and spirited' expression. She had been named Euphemia for her maternal grandmo- ther, but the dignified appellation, except by a few, was, by general consent, sunk in the pretty diminution of Effie, or still more commonly, in, that of Eaphie. "What is the matter with your tea, Euphie ." said Mrs. Dyson, one of the guests. "Here we are, with a second cup all round, and you have not even tasted of yours, for I have been watch- ing you." "You had better, mother, ask her the reason why she don't taste it," said Rachel Dyson, be- fore Euphie could so far ovowome the confusion produced by the question, as to attempt 'an answer, for until she does, I don't see how she can tell whether anything is the matter with it or not. I should think, however, you might guess the reason." "I am sure I cannot," replied -Mrs. Dyson, unless; like Aunt 8nsr"'nnh, she thinks it will page: 10-11[View Page 10-11] make her nervous to drink it; it- is strong and fragrant." "It is not that," said Rachel. "Euphie is a patriot, or, as we loyalists would call her, a rebel." Mrs. Dyson was prevented from making any answer by Mt. Carwick. "What's that you say?" said he, suddenly turning from a gentleman he had been address- ing, and speaking to Rachel in such sharp, abrupt tones as to make her start. "O, it is nothing more than some of her non. sense, I'll venture to say," said Mrs. Dyson, anxious that the subject should be dropped immediately. "The tennr, madam," said he, "that I heard yourdaughter make use of, have too much weight and significance to be termed nonsense. Miss Rachel, have you any reason for applying them to my niece, except her neglecting to drink her tea?" "Excuse me, Mr. Carwick," said Rachel,- "that's a question I should prefer not to answer." "Your wish to evade it, is answer enough. I was not aware that my sister Floyd's daughter was an apostate." "I did not expect this of you, Rachel," said Euphie, in a voice inaudible, except to her whom she addressed. "Euphie," said her aunt, "why don't you speak, and clear yourself from the odium of such a charge?" Enpbie raised her eyes to her aunt's, and was about to answer, when the sound of drum and fife, playing a quick, spirit-stirring air, arrested the attention of those present. The musicap- proachcd nearer and nearer, and mingling with. it the tramp of many feet was soon heard. Rachel Dyson rose quickly from the table, and took her place at a window, which commanded a view of the road, that passed in, front. of. the house. A company of young men in martial array, commanded by one distinguished above the rest, by his fine person, intelligent counte- nae and military air, waa advancing, and by the time tj had arrived opposite the house, all Lthie table ad followed. the example of Ra. chcl DpyQn. Euphie had, at first, hesitated to go, but if after the reat had approached the win- dow, she hla remained behind, she justly feared that Ahe should draw. on herself the mischievous remarks of Rachel. For this reason, added. to J snorer, which she would. have ben still mor loth to rmv*a*, abh, ta tin hwef khind o0e of her young cousins, over whose shoulder she could see the military band as it passed. Rachel Dyson had no eyes, except for the young commander. She eagerly watched his every movement. He looked towards the win- dow where she stood, but hers was not the face that arrested his glance. It was Euphie Floyd's, though only for a moment, and was accompanied by a quick motion of the hand, which, to a care- less observer, might have been deemed accident- al, though well understood by her for whom it was intended. Rachel observed it, and knew there was some meaning attached to it, which she felt determined by some means to ascertain. "'Does any one knpw to naine,ofp-the young- ster at the head. of these rebels?"* inquired Mr. Carwick. "Lionel Ainsworth," replied a gentleman by the name of Bartley. "Does he belong to a family of any note?" "I suspect not. He has, till very recently, resided in Boston, where I am informed he was a retailer of dry goods, by which he maintained a widowed mother and a young sister." "It would have been better for him to have stuck to the yardstick, and let the sword alone, unless he can wear it for some better purpose tha .to excite rebellion." He is really. a fine looking young man," said Mr. Bartley. "Yes, he looks well enough to be at the head of a company of the king's troops," returned Mr, Carwick. "It is a pity he ha. not some friend. to warn him against a course which must soon bring ruin on himself and all connectede witk him." "If so, ru may come upon one, nearly con- nected. with you," said, avoice, bup, as just at that moment a, movement was .ma4 to leave the windows, it, was, not knowp, except to Euphe, to whom th3 voice beong ge She knew, that it wH Rachel Dyson who had spoke. "What is your opinions, Mrt Carwick ", said Mr. Dyson, as they, resumed, their seats at, the., table; "do you think ;tha. theprpYvicials, wl have the courage to repe at th, experimenq,t of openly. resisting the regaltartoqps .?" "They may. have the fool-hardin qessq do it," was Mr. Carwick's answer. "The Americans will most;.eairlyp etevex in resisting the; encrqoachmn,t:.of, the. Br hit, l governmmn," Aid, a, g entleman by the name of,: Wilmore,who had entered in spsie to hear the, last remarks.. "It, wa no temporary excite- ment which caused our people-to, take up:: arms, but a determination tosupport our-rights,: that will prove steady and unwavering, . You should, like me, have listened to James Otis, in behalf of the merchants of Boston and Salem, whenj as an evidence that the British cabinet had deter- mined to assert the sov ereign authority of par- liament over the colonies, in cases of internal policy and taxation,--an authority which by right belonged only to the king--the officers, of the customs were enjoined to make application for writs of assistance to the supreme judicature of the province. Years have passed since then, but I believe, with a distinguished gentleman, with whom I recently held some conversation on the subject, that the provinces are destined to be. independent, and that 'American independence was then and there -born.' " "You need not flatter yourself that you will ever see the colonies independent," said Mr. Carwick. "The power of Great Britain is irre- sistible, and all who attempt to oppose her. de- signs, will bring upon themselves certain destruc- tion. As for James Otis, he. should have been tried for treason. What little influence I had, was exerted against him, and would have been, had he been my own brother." While this conversation was going on between her uncle and Mr. Wilmore, Euphie cast frequent glances- at the old eight-day. clock, which in its case of polished mahogany, ticked in. one cor- ner of the- room. They were stolen glances, however, for she felt. that every movement was watched by Rachel Dyson. Soon it began to grow dark, when Euphie rose, and saying to her aunt that she would order lights, to be brought, left the room. A n aid. servant shortly made her appWeranc, bearing on a salver four wax candles in tall, silver. andle- sticks, of elaborateorate workmanship, Euphiedid not, return, nor. .was. her, absence particularly. noticed, except by Rachel, who, before the;ser: vant had, had! time, to deposit the candles in their proper places, had glided from the room; Slipping on an old bonnet and cloak, which she found, in a back entry, she. let the, house,. and crept along by the garden-fence, till she ar- rived at a place where she could ee up and down the road for a considerable distance.. She soon saw a receding figure, which she. knew- must-be Euphie Floyd, The road-was silent and de- serted,and- even if she wereseenp;., shwouldnot. be likely to be recognized in, the old cloak and- bonnet she had donned for the occasion. She therefore ran swiftly. along the roadside; till the distance between, herself and Euphie was so di- minished, as to-enable her to easily keep sight of her. It was not long before Euphie stopped at the door of a small farm-house, and knocked. The door was immediately opened by thp mistress of the dwelling. Rachel Dyson knew her well. She had formerly beenmuch in the family of Mrs, Floyd, Euphie's mother, where she performed various, household duties, and where, on account. of -her many excellent qualities, she was treated more like a companion than a servant, by the mistress of the family. She had now, for sev. eral yeais,.been married to a worthy, industri- ous man by the name of Miles Ellsworth. Though the window-curtains were drawn, there was a small portion of one of the lower panes of glass that happened to be left uncovered, which - enabled Rachel, to obtain a view of the apart- ment. She was disappointed. No one was present, except Euphie and Mrs. Ellsworth. She had expected to see Lionel Ainsworth, the young provincial officer, who with his company ha. passed Mr. Carwick's. Mrs. Ellsworth offered .Euphie a chair, which she declined, saying that she must stop only a minute or two. As they both spoke earnestly, and in no very suppressed tones, Rachel; by standing near. the window, could hear most of what they said. "Lionel,"'r said Euphie, ."passed Uncle COar- wick's house with his company,. and gave me the sign agreed upon, to meet him here; but H must not wait for him, as there are a numberof, gentlemen and ladies at home, and I am- afraid, although I make,all possible haste to return, I shall be missed. XRachel,:DysOnis one, of the, guests, who, I believe, suspects that i don't hold Lionel in the high disdain ft and proper for the niece of a gentleman who ranks high in .the provincial aristocracy.. He is, a rebel, too, yon, know, and by some, means, Rachel has found out that I am a little bit of a rebel myselfi andr what is worse still, she was so- indiscreet as to. hint ,something of the kind while we were at the table,' which, although my, uncle was engaged in earnest conversation, at once reached his, ear." "It was not indiscretion, Euphiei; she. did, it on? purpose. She likes Lionel herself, and is jealous of you, and threw, out the hins you speak of for no other reason than to .excite the suspis, cion of our uncle and aunt,and. make. thean, more watchful over you." page: 12-13[View Page 12-13] "I thought Rachel was my friend." "Think so no longer. She is incapable of entertaining a true friendship for any one. I have good reasons for thinking thus, which I will tell you some time when you are in less of "I mustn't stay a minute longer. I have been absent too long, already." "What shall I tell Lionel when he comes?" "You may tell him that I will be here to- morrow, sometime between six o'clock and sun- set, and you can, if you please, invite him to call." Enphie delayed no longer, and as Mrs. Ells- worth opened the outer door, and saw that it was already quite dark, she remarked that she wished Miles was there to go with her. "I You have your wish, Hannah," said a cheer- ful voice. "I am very glad," said his wife. "I should not have felt easy to have had Euphie go home alone." As Euphie and Miles Ellsworth turned to go, they saw a female, wrapped in a cloak, flitting along before them, who, although they walked rapidly, was soon lost from view. Euphie, when arrived at her uncle's, entered the house by a back door, and having waited a few moments to recover from the effects of her hurried walk, entered the parlor as quietly as possible, and took a seat in the nearest vacant chair, which happened to be by the side of Ra- chel Dyson. Her entrance was not particularly notieed by any one, except Rachel, who, with a look of great demureness, was netting a green silk purse. "You have been absent a long time," said Rachel. "I have been in some of the back rooms trying to hunt you up, but could not find you." Euphie's cheeks, already flushed by her recent walk, assumed a deeper glow. She, however, made no reply, for she did not feel called upon to assign the true reason for her absence, and 4 she would not stoop to a falsehood. "I shouldn't wonder if you had been out for a walk," said Rachel. "Some pretend to ( think that it isn't prudent for young girls to ] venture out alone after dark, now there are so i many soldiers about. All soldiers, nor officers i either, are not like Lionel Ainsworth, you know." 1 "It is not from those who have been born and bred among us that we have anything to fear," said Euphie. "Those belonging ta the king's a troop are the ones we have reason to dread." t "Do you hear that, Major Dillman " said f Rachel, addressing a British officer who had en- 1 tered the room, and approached near the spot I where they sat, without having been perceived by f Euphie. "Miss Floyd refers to the common soldiers, I 3 presume," said Major Dillman. "Even officers," returned Euphie, "may sometimes be annoying." "Have you been so unfortunate, as to meet with any such ." he asked. "I have." "I hope that I have not the misfortune to be included in the category." "Whether you are, or are not included, can be of little consequence to yourself," said Eu- phie, "nor will it be to me, if for the future, there is good reason to exempt you." ".Do not mind her, Major Dillman," said Rachel. "Eaphiesa not in earnest. She is more pleased than annoyed by the polite attentions bestowed on her by either British or provincial officers." "Rachel, you know that I am in earnest," said Euphie; " and Major Dillman will, I think, admit that he knows it, too." "I don't allow myself to be easily foiled," said he. "I have been taught to overcome ob- stacles, and I find that'it can be generally done by a determined spirit." Much to Euphie's relief, Major Dillman was now appealed to by her uncle for his opinion rel- ative to some subject under discussion, which caused him to leave the place where he was, and take a seat in a different part of the room. When the time arrived for the guests to with draw, Rachel Dyson, during the slight confusion attendant on leave-taking, found opportunity to say a few -words to Major Dillman, unobserved by any one present. "Yon have a rival," said she. "A rival!-what's his name-who is he?" demanded the major. ' "His name is Lionel Ainsworth, and as to who he is, all I can say at present is, he has re. cently been chosen captain of a company of the provincials. Euphie intends to meet him to- morrow, sometime between six o'clock and sun- set, at the house of one Miles Ellsworth--do you know where it is " "Yes, very well." "She will not go by the road. She goes to see Ellsworth's wife often, and always crosses the pastures and fields, except when it is 1mar night; so, if you please, you may find a good opportunity for an interview." "Many thanks for your information. I shall ever remain indebted to you." He would have liked to ask her a few ques- tions respecting Lionel Ainsworth, but Rachel's name was called by her mother, and it would have been very imprudent to have detained her longer. "Wait a moment, mother," said Rachel, "I must speak to Euphie before I go." She took Euphie aside. "Do you recollect those few lines of poetry you showed me the other afternoon?" "Those I told you that I was going to send toAmy Denny?" "Yes." "Will you give me a copy of them V" "I have. not had opportunity to send them yet, and you may, if you please, take them and copy them yourself." "That will be just the thing, dear Euphie. I will either return them, or a fair copy of them, to-morrow or next day." "Either will do," replied Euphie, while Ra- chel, with an appearance of great satisfaction put the verses in her pocket. page: 14-15[View Page 14-15] CHAPTER If. AN UNWELCOCOME OMANION. In that same place thou hast appointed me, To-morrow, truly, will I meet with thee. Midsummer NighCt' Dream. IT was half an hour later than Euphie intend. ed it should have been, when, at last, she found herself at liberty to make her intended excur. sion. It was a thing of almost daily occurrence for her to call on Hannah Ellsworth, and neither her uncle nor aunt had ever expressed any dis. approbation of the friendly intercourse maintain- ed between them; still, as it was well known that Hannah's husband favored the whigs, after what Rachel Dyson had said the day previous she half feared that a continuance of her visits might be forbidden. She felt relieved, therefore, when having crossed the garden, she found her- self on the borders of the Mystic River, with a luxuriant growth of hazels and birches inter- cepting her from the view of those in her uncle's1 dwelling. The air was redolent with the fragrance of leaf and flower, and the river, reflecting the declining sunbeams,.appeared in some places smooth as a N mirror of burnished gold, wlhile in others, ruffled by the freshening breeze, it sparkled and scintil. lated, as if each tiny wave was crested with rich d jewels. Even the shaggy bark of the old; primeval n oaka ws lit up with a dusky splendor, while their dark, glossy leaves caught the play of the h yellow sunlight, as the air stole through them h with a low, rustling sound, so suggestive of that d. delicious calmness and repose, found nowhere in d such perfection as in the solemn woods. r The deep azure of the upper sky was undim- e med, though a mass of clouds of the most bril. r liant and gorgeous dyes hovered in the west s. above the spot where, ere long, the sun would i- sink to rest. Had Euphie's mind been less pre- n occupied, she would have lingered long to con- r template a scene so enchanting; now she heeded , none of its beauty or splendor, for the shadows s of the trees, lying in long, dark lines across the , sunny slopes, reminded her of the lateness of the hour, and that she had no time to spare. She quickened her steps, when suddenly emer g- ing from the woods, Major Dillman stood in the path before her. Though words could not express how exceedingly unwelcome was his presence at that particular time, she did so much violence to her feelings as to return his greeting with civility. She even waited a minute to in- terchange a few commonplace remarks, and then, seeming to take it for granted that his place of destination lay in an opposite direction from her own, she bade him good evening, and com- menced hastening forward. "I will accompany you, Miss Floyd," said he, and turning back, he placed himself close by her side. "Night is approaching," he added, and this is a solitary, and it may be, a danger. ons place, for a young: lady to walk by. herself, at so late an hour." "I beg. you will not trouble yourself to go with me,", said- Euphie,. ', The way is perfectly fa miliar to me, and far from being dangerous. I am only going where I go almost every day, to make Hannah: Ellsworth a short:visit." "Hannah Ellsworth I Have I not heard that she was once a servant in your father's family?" "4 It is not unlikely, for she lived in the family both before and:after. my, father's decease. She was regarded more in the light of a friend than a servant." I "You must introduce me to her." "Pardon-me, Major Dillman, but I don't think her ambition leads her so high as to make her wish to. cultivate- the acquaintance of a British: officer." "No, I suppose she would prefer to cultivate the acquaintance of a provincial officer." "It is riot impossible. . I again bid you good evening, Major Dillman, for I may as well be frank with,you, and. tell you that}I prefer to walk alone." "And I will be equally frank with you, and tell you that I prefer to go with you.", A flush of indignation crimsoned the cheeks of Euphie. "Major Dillman," said she, " it is ungentle- manly in you to thus force your company upon me." "In order to insure your safety, from a parcel of ragamuffins, who call themselves soldiers, and are prowling about in every direction, I will even venture to incur your anger, and the more read- ily, as it gives a brilliancy and piquancy to your beauty, which renders it doubly enchanting." "The men you call ragamuffins would not condescend either to act or speak as you do,- they would consider it degrading; and since you seem determined not to relieve me of your pres- ence, I will return to my uncle's." "I shall be equally happy to guard you, whether you return, or proceed to the residence of your friend Hannah." Euphie, who made no answer to this remark, commenced retracing her steps, with a rapidity which cost Major Dillman, to whom the way was unfamiliar, some inconvenience to keep by her side; the more so, as she made several short turns, which nmight well have been avoided, on purpose to perplex him. "Good evening, major-I am glad to see you," said Air. Carwick, who had been enticed into the garden by the blandness of the air, and the beau- ty of the sunset hour. "Euphie," he said, tuwn- ing to: his. niece,!"I thought you were in the par- lr with: your aunt, but. I cannot blame you, for taking a ramble, this, chaiming evening, with so good an escort." '!I don't think an escort of any, kind partic- ularly necessary in your own! grounds, uncle," she returned; "and for my own part, I should. deem it a luxury to, be permitted, to walk abroad; with no other companions than. the: birds andw . flowers." "And," said MajorDUillman,' "a militia cap- tain." This was not intended for Euphie's ear, nor di4 she hear it, having, as she ceased speaking, entered the house. "Was that remark meant in earnest." inquir- ed Mr. Carwick. "It was," "And to whom does it apply." "To a ifellow by the name of Lionel Ains- worth." "The young man who paraded his company by hlere yeterday afternoon ." "The same." , "Are you certain?" "I am. My information was received from a reliable source." "This must be seen to. I had a hint that she favored the whigs, but I did not imagine that she would descend so low as to bestow any particu- lar regard on a fellow, who has, I understand, for some time past, got a living by standing be- hind a counter." "His good looks have caught her fancy--no- thing more." "I wish that I could fully concur with you, as preferences which have no deeper root than the fancy, are generally so ephemeral, that unless strengthened by opposition, they will soon die of themselves; but Euphie, though sometimes gid- dy and volatile as the, most thoughtless of her sex, is not one to be beguiled into a partiality for one who has nothing to boast, except exter- nal advantages." "True, but let a man have a winning exterior, and there is not one woman in a hundred-and I don't believe your niece to be an exception- whose imagination is not fertile, enough to devise for him every moral and mental excellence under the sun; and, having thus created an idol, she will, in direct violation of an injunction of the decalogue, fall down and worship it." page: 16-17[View Page 16-17] "I believe yon ar right, but what can I do with the girl?" "Contrive some way to take her idol down from its pedestal. Convince her that his perfec- tions exist nowhere except in her own imagina- tion." . "But Euphie is not one to be convinced with- out proof, and as I know of nothing except his poverty, and his being a whig, which can be brought against him, I am afraid that the task will be a difficult one." "Not so difficult but that I am willing to un- dertake it, provided I have your leave to win her for myself if I am successful." "Major Dillman, you must be fully aware, that I have no higher ambition for my niece, than to see her wedded to one, whose lineage is, like yours, unexceptionable, and who is honored with so high a command in the king's service." "Many thanks for your good opinion, as well as the privilege you award me. I believe, if I do not gain Miss Floyd for myself, I can save her from stooping so low as to accept one who i has no higher pretensions than Lionel Ains- I worth." Mojor Dillman now took leave, having declin- ed Mr. Carwick's invitation to go in, and spend the remainder of the evening. Mr. Carwick had no very clear conception of what Major Dillman, under cover of his approv- al, had it in his mind' to undertake, for he had neither his cunning nor want of principle. He had never heard of such a person as Lionel Ains- worth, till he saw him pass his house at the head of his company; yet the fact of his being what he and others termed a rebel, was sufficient to so prejudice his mind, as to makt him accept as truth anything however mean and base which might be urged against him. His employment, too, had, according to his mind, a degrading in- fluence. Owing to the manner in which he had been educated, it was difficult for him to imagine a person possessing courage, and those high and generous sentiments which constitute true chiv- alry, who had not been bred a gentleman, or who, in other words, was obliged by any species of manual labor to earn his living. The bare idea of a young man like Lionel Ainsworth, act- ing in the capacity of a military leader, was, to his mind, preposterous, and excited his ridicule as much as it did his indignation. *m CHAPTER III. PLOTTING. O, how this spring of love resembleth The uncertain glory of an April day; Which now shows all the beauty of the sun, And by-and-by a cloud takes all away. Two Gentlemen of Verona, WHLE Mr. Carwick and Major Dillman had stood talking, the twilight shadows were slowly gathering. Lionel Ainsworth had, ever since an hour before sunset, been at the house of Miles Ellsworth, awaiting the coming of Euphie. He beguiled the time by chatting with Mrs. Ells- worth, who saat t a foot-wheel, diligently spin- ning linen. Often did he look down the green lane, half-screened from view by the intervening trees, hoping to obtain,a glimpse of her for whom he was watching; but nothing was stirring, save wow and then a bird, that flew across a path by which he expected she would come, catching a flash of sunlight from the last beams of the set- ting sun. At last, when the gloom of evening began to fall darkly around, he saw some one walking slowly up the lane. It must be Euphie, for there was a gleam of white drapery, as she wound in and out among the trees, and she almost always dressed in white. He would go out and meet her. She had left word for him to remain in the house till she came, but it was dark now, and there would be little danger of his being recog- nized. Even Hannah did not now oppose his going. It was strange that Euphie was so slow in coming forward to meet'him. She even turned aside as if to avoid him. '"Euphie'I Eli-liie l" said he, as she disappeared'among the trees. At the sound of his voice, she came forward. "Captain Ainsworth, I believe," she said, and then he saw that it was Rachel, Dyson instead of Euphie. "I saw'some one a while ago, walk- ing close by the shore of the river," said Rachel, "whom I took to be Euphie . Floyd; and the evening was so delightful, that' t thought i would cross the fields and walk with her; ,butIhad only gone a short distance, before i saw her join- ed by a gentleman i" "A gentlemanl Who was it? 'Did you know him, Miss Dyson. " "I think it was Major Dillman. At any rate, I supposed my presence would not be desirable; and happening to remember that my mother had requested me to do an errand for -her to Hannah Ellsworth, I concluded I would call and do it." "Are you sure that it was Euphie whom you saw?" "Perfectly sure. It was'not then so dark as to prevent me ftom seeing her clearly. 'EuphMe pretends that she dislikes Major Dillman, but I am afraid that Euphie is a little bit of a coquette -one of those who are fond of admiration, let it proceed from what source it aill."- "I believe the meeting between her and Major PDillman to have been accidental," said Lionel, a little piqued at having Euphie - termed a co- quette by Rachel, though an 6pinioiveery similar had formed itself in his own mind. page: 18-19[View Page 18-19] "It might have been," returned Rachel, care- lessly. At that moment, something white fluttered down, and fell at Lionel's feet., It had been lodged among the leaves of some shrubbery, and, caught by the breeze, was wafted to the spot where it fell. So it seemed, at least; and, if human hands had any agency in the matter, it was neither perceived nor suspected by Lionel. As far as could be judged by the imperfect light, it was an unfolded letter. Rachel, after meeting with Lionel, had pro- ceeded slowly towards Miles Ellsworth's, and he had continued to walk with her. Hannah stood at the open door, and invited them to go in, thinking all the while that Lionel's companion was Euphie, till the light of the candle, burning on the table, undeceived her. She could hardly conceal her surprise, not un- mingled with chagrin, when she saw that it was Rachel. It cost her some effort to treat her with civility; for, without any reason which would have been exactly satisfactory to herself had it been analyzed, she regarded her with an aversion which she feared was'very unchristian, and which she had labored to overcome, with a success that fell deplorably short of the zeal and earnestness of her efforts. Lionel, without taking the chair offered him by Hannah, went directly to the table where stood the candle; for even as he entered the ' room, a quick glance of his eye at the sheet of paper he held in his hand, told him that the I handwriting was Euphie's. . He did not see the i sidelong glance which Rachel directed to him, nor her peculiar smile, immediately checked, as, without any appearance of emotion--except that ] he grew very pale-he slowly and deliberately read what the paper contained, which was no- 8 thing more nor less than the poetry which Ra- 0 chel had requested of Euph'ie, the evening pre- 8 vious. The lines-which were an extract from a poem by Mrs. Rowe, whose writings were, at c that period, popular on both sides of the Atlan- u tic-had been copied by Eupbie, as she told Ra- I chel, for her friend, Amy Denny. Instead of P writing the name in full, she had addressed them to A. D.; the initials being the same as Major s DiUllman's, whose baptismal name was Anson. a The lines, the first six of which we subjoin, though very pretty and harmless for a girl in her q teens to send to another young lady of the same youthful age, assumed a grave significance, when te addressed to a British officer, as Lionel supposed them to be. a "Come. dearest friend, O, come, and with me share The blooming woodbines and the fragrant air; Together o'er the flowery walks we '1I rove, Or sit beneath the shelter of the grove: While flocks upon the hills around us bleat, r And echoes to the streams their voice repeat." Appended, was, "Your ever affectionate friend, Euphie Floyd." . When Lionel had finished reading it, he fold- ed the paper, and, without saying a word, put it into his pocket. "And so, Captain Ainsworth, you don't re- veal the contents of your fairy missive," said Rachel. "It contains nothing of importance," replied Lionel. "It probably belongs to Major Dill- man, and I shall embrace the first opportunity to restore it to him." , "May I ask, why you call it a fairy missive, Miss Dyson?" said Hannah. "Because it fluttered down, and fell at Cap- tain Ainsworth's feet, as if dropped by some invisible hand. I wish some fairy would be so generous as to drop a letter, or some message at my feet; but neither fairies, nor any one else, ever take the trouble to write to me." "You would wish it to be a good fairy, I sup- pose," remarked Lionel, " otherwise, according to all accounts contained in elfin lore, the influ- ence might be baleful, rather than propitious." "Certainly, I should, " said 'Rachel; "and give me leave to express a hope, that it was a good one that bestowed her gift on you." "I am obliged to you/' said Lionel, coldly. "I have no doubt that it was a bad one," said Hannah. " Seeing that wheel reminds me of my errand/' said Rachel. " I called to see if you bd a skeih or two of nice linen thread, which you could spare." Hannah said she had plenty of thread, anid Ra- chel, after selecting a couple of skeins, paid the usual price. She then said she must go, -and Lionel could do no les thin to offer to acco'- pahy her. " Return here, when you have seen her home," said Hannah, speaking in a low voice to Lionel, as he was about to leave the room. Lionel did not fail to do as Hannah had 're- quested. "Do not think me meddling or bold, Cap- tain Ainsworth," were her first words, when he re-entered the house, " but something has gone wrong, I know." "'Nothing!can be more ibvious," he .-replied, "for Euphie, who was to meet me hewe this' evening, has failed to keep her appointment." "Not voluntarily, I;am certain. She haisbeen detained against her will."' "An hour ago I should have said and thought as you do. Now I think differently. Look at this;" and he handed her the paper he had found while walking with Rachel.' "It is Euphie's hand-writing," said Hannah, after holding the piece of paper in various':points of view, so as to detect, if possible, some dissi. militude between the turn of the letters and 'Eu- phie's all-known chirography. "But who 'is meant by A. D.? I can recall to mind no one whose name begins with those letters." "There is a certain British officer, whose name is Anson Dillman, I believe," said Lionel. "Yes-so there is-I had forgotten Major Dillman. But Euphie dislikes him-she always seeks to avoid him." "So she pretends." "No, Lionel Ainsworth, there is no pretension about it," said Hannah, with a good deal of warmth. "I, who have known Euphie' from a child, know also that she 'does not say one thing I -and mearian=other. She would scorn to do it. Some secret influence is at work in order to breed distrust between you." I "I wish I could think so." "Tell me how you came by this paper." Lionel told her, also how Rachel had seen a Euphie and Major Dillman walking together. t "A proof," he added, "that the lines here s written were intended for an invitation for him to walk with her, and that he accepted it." s "There is a mystery about the matter," said a Hannah, " which I am persuaded Euphie could fi explain if she were only here. If you will leave the paper with me, I will send for her to-mor- tl row, .and ILknow that she will tell me the truth, let it be for or against her. 'One thing I must b warn you against. Do not trnst Rachel Dysonl" " "Why not?" "I cannot tell you why, and yet I feel as much n confidence that I am right in warning you, as if I could give you a hundred reasons. I wish V you could have seen the look she gave you when w you commenced reading those lines. It was an g evil, sinister look, which I did not understand then, nor do I now, though I think I shall,some l time. Now, LionelAinsworth, promise to obey ei me in one thing." B "I cannot promise till I . hear what you re- quire." , "It is dnly ithat you'will not think ill of Eu- phie .till she has opportunity to explain 'what now appears to be so much against her.?'i ' "You may 'be 'certain that I shall thifik as fa- vorably of heras I can." t "With 'that I must be conttnt, I suppose. t Hurk! I hear footsteps.- Miles -is coming, I I hope. I was beginning to feel' uneasy 'about him." "Where has he been ". "ToBoston,-I expect. He intended to go there when he left home this morning, to carry a few- necessaries for the relief of some of our friends there, and I didn't know but that Gov- iernor Gage might refuse to let him return." It was not more than a minute before Haninah had the pleasure of welcoming her husband. 'She noticed that his cheeks glowed, and that his eyes sparkled with excitement. "I am glad to see you, Captain AinsworthI," said he, shaking Lionel heartily by the hand.- "Have you heard the news?" "No," replied Lionel; " what has happened'?" "General aGage has issued a proelahmation, offering pardon to all who will lay down their arms, 'and peaceably resume their customary occupations, except Samuel Adams and John Hancock, ' whose offences,' in the words of the proclamation, are of too flagitious a nature to admit of 'any other consideration 'than that of condign punishment;' All their associates and adherents, :also,-so says the proclamation-stwill be deemed guilty of treason and rebellion, land subjected to merited punishment."' "I, for one, then, shall be considered-a traitor," said Lionel, "for I shall glory in being deemed an adherent of 'such men as the -two exempted from pardon." "And I,too. I wish for no greater: honor than to be called one of ' Hancock's crew,' " '"Their being'proscribed, will increase, insteid bf diminishing, their popularity," said Lionel.- "Had General Gage wished to -,xalt th6em b1 the highest pinnale f hhonor and' fame, he6 ould not have. hit on a better plan." "You hayve heard thenews, I find;" said Mr. Wilmore, entering at the door that Miles -lils- worth, in the excitement of- his feelings, had for. gotten to close. "Yes,!' said Lionel, " and it inspires us'with new- cotrige aid nithusiasm; for it shows pligi- er than. ever, the neessity of asmsoEiati g out- page: 20-21[View Page 20-21] selves against the royal governor and the British ministry." "I wonder how Mr. AdrAms and Mr. Hancock will themselves be affected by the proclamation," said Miles. "They will not be dismayed by it in the least," returned Mr. Wilmore. "They have, from the fist, and thousands of others might be included, been prepared to brave the consequences, how- ever tragical they might prove to be, which might attend their efforts in the defence of liberty. As for the proclamation, all I have heard speak of it, deem it nothing more nor less than a pre. lude to hostilities. It was issued merely in con- formity to ancient custom, for every one knows that active preparations are being made for hos- tilities, and that reinforcements are daily expect- ed to arrive from Great Britain." "Where is Mr. Hancock, now ." asked Han- nah. "He has just gone to Philadelphia," said Mr. Wilmore, " having, as I suppose you know, been chosen president of Congress." "Yes, Miles told me that he had been, and though you may incur danger by doing it, I am glad that you all are determined to stand by him. I have seen Mr. Hancock many a time in his coach, drawn by six beautiful bays, and with his servants all in livery. He didn't disdain to notice the poorest individual that walked the streets. I never saw a more affable, or a more noble and graceful-looking gentleman, and his dress, which was always of the finest cloth, and embroidered with gold and silver lace, looked fit for a prince." "Or for John Hancock, who is superior to any prince I ever heard of," said Lionel. "He is rich enough to be a prince," said Miles Ellsworth. "While I was in Boston to- day, I passed a large number of dwelling-houses and other buildings, which belong to him." "The principal part of his property consists of buildings in Boston," said Mr. Wilmore, "which makes me recall to mind something I heard about bombarding the town." "If it would be for the public weal," said Lionel, " he would be tl e first to urge the meas- ure,though most of his property would necessarily be destroyed." . '"I wonder what Mr. Carwick will think of the proclamation ." said Hannah. "O, he will, of course, advise us all to sub- mit quietly to the yoke," said Mr. Willmore.-- "Those who do not, will, sooner or later, he has no doubt, receive the doom of traitors, as their reward." "Speaking of Mr. Carwick, reminds me of his niece," said Miles. "Have you seen her to- day, Hannah?" "I have not. She told me last evening that she should come, and I know that she would ,have kept her promise, if she possibly could have done it." "Then you don't know where she has gone this evening," said her husband. "No, I certainly do not." "Well, it may be they have only gone on a little pleasure excursion, the evening is so fine." "You say they-who was with her?" inquired Lionel. "Major Dillman, I took it to be." "Where was it that you saw them ." asked Hannah. "They were just starting from Mr. Car- wick's, as I passed. They were in a phaeton. You know that the major sometimes drives a phaeton." "Yes, but it don't belong to him," said Mr. Wilmore. "Youmust be mistaken, Miles," said Han- nah; "Euphie wouldn't go with him." "No I am not, for she looked back, and waved her handkerchief to her aunt, and bade her good- by, and I should know her voice among a thou- sand. No one else has a voice to sweet and musical, though it seemed to nqe to be sadder than usual." "I It is very strange," said Hannah. "Why should she wave her handkerchief, and bid her aunt good-by, if she were only going a short dis- tance, and expected to return?" Lionel, before hearing what Miles Ellsworth had told them respecting Euphie, had allowed himself to entertain a faint hope that she would be able to give a satisfactory explanation rela- tive to the meeting between her and Major Dill- man. Now, this hope was extinguished, and feeling in no mood to bear a part in the con- versation, which had now reverted to the former l, theme, he bade a good evening to those present, and withdrew. Hannah Ellsworth followed r him. ".The first thing I do to-morrow morning," D said she, " after the breakfast things are cleared away, will be to go over to Mr. Carwick's. By - going, I shall, at least, find out where Euphie - has gone to-night, and if you have any wish to a know, call to-morrow, if you find opportunity." "I don't know why I should trouble myself about her," said Lionel, rather sullenly. "You can call, you know, just for curiosity's sake," replied Hannah. When Lionel arrived at his lodgings, he found a letter for him, lying on the table. It was from his mother, and informed him that she had that morning received a letter from Mr. Ainsworth, her brother-in-law, who lived in South Carolina. He had recently lost his wife, and his children were still young, which made him very anxious that she and her daughter would come and re- side with him. She had, she said, decided to accept his invitation, as the prospect where they were daily became more gloomy, and the means of obtaining an honest subsistence more preca. rious. Their being provided with a comfortable home would also relieve him of much anxiety. She had already applied for a pass, for her and Ruth, his sister, to leave town, as the gentleman who had brought her brother's message, would leave the ensuing day, and it was arranged, if they concluded to go, that they should travel un- der his protection. Lionel, who had experienced much uneasiness on account of his moth er and sister,-for since 'the town had been in state of siege, not only had all personal communication between them and himself been cut off, but every letter or note sent by either was very carefully inspected,-was greatly rejoiced at the prospect that had opened before them. For the time Euphie and the hate- ful Dillman were forgotten. As Mr. Morland, the gentleman who would accompany his mother and sister, had friends re- siding not many miles from Boston, where he contemplated spending a number of hours the following day, Lionel would have opportunity for a parting interview, and his first care was to make arrangements for that purpose. By nine o'clock in the morning he was on his way. He met Hannah Ellsworth, who had, as she intended, called at Mrs. Carwick's, to inquire respecting Euphie. She was told that her mo- ther had been taken suddenly, and, as it was feared, dangerously ill, and had sent for her; but the reason why Major Dillman was selected for her escort, she did not ascertain. page: 22-23[View Page 22-23] CHAPTER IV. A OUltIOUS INCIDBSWTI ucctt-aemmr this paper. Julia.-Say, say; who gave it thee? Two Gentlemen of Veronas. Then tam your forces from this paltry siege, And stir them up against a mightier task.-ing John. IT was late in the day when Lionel, after spending several hours with his mother and sis. * ter, bade them farewell, and set out to return. By the time he had accomplished half the dis- tance, the slant sunbeams were crowning with gold the purple hills that rose in the distance. Suffering the bridle to lie loosely on his horse's neck, he pursued his way slowly, while his thoughts, which one moment reverted to those with whom he had so recently parted, never, it might be, to meet them again, would, the next, wander to Euphie Floyd, whose conduct the last twenty-four hours had been such as to weaken, if not destroy, his faith in her constancy. The road, that for the last mile or two had been hilly, and so open as to command a view of the surrounding country, now became level, and was on one side bordered by a forest, which throwing a dark shadow across his path, made surrounding objects dim and indistinct. He was aroused from his reverie by some one, who sud- denly rose from a stump by the roadside, where he had been sitting. "Why, Mike Larkin," said Lionel, "what are you doing here? You came near frightening my horse and me too." r He whom Lionel thus addressed, was a lad - about sixteen years of age, the tattered state of whose habiliments was indicative of his vagrant habits, and, though they sometimes subjected i him to the inconvenience of going without a meal when he was hungry, or of sleeping on the 3 ground with no roof over him, save the "blue I valted heaven," there was something in this mode of life, that habit had rendered far too fas- cinating to make him wish to leave it. The va- rious exigencies and shifts consequent on his pre- carious way of procuring a livelihood, he being, "for a consideration," willing, at 'the no little risk of life and limb, to run errands and carry messages, alike for the British, the tories, and the whigs, had naturally made him quick-witted and shrewd; traits that had already written them- selves in legible lines on his countenance. His physiognomy, which was rather a peculiar one, might have been deemed ugly, and yet there was something in it not altogether unattractive. Though, as has been stated, he was willing to serve the British and tories, as well as the whigs, if paid for so doing, his sympathies were with the latter; nor did he hesitate to communicate to them such information as he was able to gath- et relative t5o fte mri6vii t6s or intentions of tie adverse party, which he thouglit Fligt of ser- vice to thCem. In an6Swr to O ' tiif' inark, r eltive to frighte6tgnlii ef e iorseos6, he aid he shoitld have Sen:i btri t5 dco eitiier. B eut you see;,e a4ed, ' ve een aing foi you to coime along, I gl i got Be ki- id o' tired like, and so spose I jum peA up rather qutick. AcereB a ai"WI paper Fi 0a gave me." ike, as. he spoke, drew a letter from a repos- itory, which answered instead of a pocket, from between the lining and the outside of his well- worn doublet, and handed it to Lionel, who ea- gerly received it, not doubting that it came from Euphie. Without stopping to look ai the super- scription, he unfolded it, for it was without a seal, and, availing himself of an opening in the trees, a short distance ahead, where the waning light was less obscured, he ran his eye over-the contents, which he found were not in the hand- writing of Euphie, with rather a puzzled air. It was without signature, and, after a second and still more careful perusal, he was totally unable to conjecture its meaning. "Do you know the name of the person who gave this to you?" said Lionel. "I know her well enough by sight, but don't remember her name." "Cannot you describe her to me?" "' Why yes, I rather guess I can. You've seen the gal haven't you, that al'ays seems to be afeared to look a feller in the face, and so looks at him out of the corners of her eyes?" "Do you mean Rachel Dyson?" "Yes, Rachel Dyson is the name." Lionel once more carefully read the billet, yet the third reading left him as much in the dark, relative to the meaning, as the first. The con- tents, which we subjoin, may, to those who have been behind the scenes, appear somewhat less mysterious: "You remember what I told you the other evening about having a rival. I think I have so managed that you will not have much more trou- ble on that score; but, as there are one or two little incidents, particularly about some poetry that a certain person supposes was addressed to you, which it may be unsafe to leave unexplain- ed, please call on me this evening.:' "I thought 'twould puzzle you," said Mike, appearing highly amused at Lionel's look of be- wilderment. "What made you think so " SuJini tiaw i look at tie . act of te letiter, and ; M didas fke requested, and read, "Major ' tL d 'ffuis y"ia kiwa m,.a "I ihougnt you said it w-as for me," said iHonet "You were so airnest arter it, you didn't iAind wh a1b I lid. i't old yot it aii gaive' it to mn, and 'twas the truth." "And you knew all the tihe it wao f6r Major Dilhlmn." - "Sartain I did," said Mike, with a look of meek solem:niy. "Then'why did you give it to me?" "'Clause t wirntedi yoi to know what was in "Do you not know, Mike, that it is mean and low-unworthy a gentleman, to read what was not intended for his eye." "Well I s'pose 'tis, but you see I don't pre- tend to be a gentleman, and you thought all the time that the letter was sent to you. I took good care not to hint 'twas for the major, 'cause I knew you wouldn't read it if I did." "You say you gave it to me because you wished me to read it. I can make little or no- thing of it."' "And I couldn't, I suppose, if I hadn't been hid behind some bushes, and heard a long talk between the Dyson gal and one of her mates this morning. They had a deal to say about you and pretty Euphie Floyd, by which I found out that they were, among 'em, going to try to make you think she liked the major a dreadful sight better than she did you; but I knew, if they tried ever so hard, they would never make you believe it, t for you know she hates the redcoats worse than prison, and I hate 'em too, if I do run errands for 'em sometimes." Lionel felt his cheeks tingle, knowing how lit- tle he merited the opinion so heartily expressed by Mike, of his unshaken confidence in Euphie's constancy. He re-folded the letter and returned it to Mike. "You will give it to Major Dillman," said he. "Sartain," returned Mike. "I agreed with r the Dyson- gal to carry it to him for a shilling, ' and I al'ays do as I agree." "That is right; but I advise you to be careful how you make another mistake-such an one as , you made to-night." * . "I never make mistakes Without I do it on purpose. Mike Larkin's too keen for that. I'm willing to sarve the redcoats if they pay me well, / page: 24-25[View Page 24-25] and I'll do it faithfully, if it don't cause any wrong to be done to them that's better'n they be. Good night, cap'n, and if you want me to carry a message or a letter for you, I'm the one that's ready and willing to do it, and there'll be no danger of my giving it to the wrong one, neither." "It may be, Mike, that I shall want you to carry a letter to-morrow." "I shall be ready to do it." "Do you know where Mrs. Floyd lives?" "The widder Floyd do you mean?" "Yes." "I hope I do. There aint a house in Boston, or Charlestown, either, but that I know who lives in it. The widder Floyd lives in Charlestown, close by the ferry." i . "Well, call on me to-morrow morning, and I will have a letter ready for you to carry to Mrs. Floyd's. Here is a shilling for you, and I will give you another if you will call, after having safely delivered the letter into the hands of the person for whom it is intended.'" "I don't take pay of them that are on the right side-only them that are rich. You are going to fight for liberty, and I'd rather you'd keep the shilling to buy gunpowder with. Good night, cap'n." "Good night," said Lionel, in return, and, putting spurs to his horse, Mike Larkin was soon left far behind. CHAPTER V. AINSWORTH'S PLIANS AGAIN DEFEATED. Alb.-Well, you may fear too far. Gron.--. . . Safer than trust: Let me still take away the harms I fear.--ing Lear. Sure, one of you does not Serve heaven wel, that you are so crossed. Meror Wives of Windsor. MKE LARKIN did not fail, according to pro- mise, to call' on Lionel in the morning for the letter. It was ready 'fr him, and in it Lionel had confessed to, Euphie that his jealousy had been excited by her failing to meet him at Miles Ellsworth's as she had promised, as well as by other incidents that had taken place the same evening, and which he- detailed. He knew now, he said, that he had wronged her, and he believed that one she had trusted was plotting against her; there were some things, however, that he could not satisfactorily account for, and he en- treated that she would write a few lines in ex- planation, and send them, by the bearer of his own letter. "Be careful not to lose it," said Lionel, hand- ing it to Mike. "You needn't be afeared of that," returned he, "and if any of the redcoats undertake to search my pockets, they wontfind it, for I've a safer place than a pocket to put it into--the same I carried the Dyson'gal's letter in.' "Remember you are to wait for an answer." O, O I know," said he, and he eked out his answer with a nod and a wink, quite as expres- sive as words. Mike had a light pair of heels, and without seeming to hurry, he got over the ground at so rapid a rate, that few'pedestrians Would have found it easy to keep up with him. He beguiled the time by whistling a song or two, more patri- otic than loyal, when by a bend in the road, he came in sight of a man on horseback, who was advancing towards him. He ceased whistling, for he imagined that he had seen him before, and that he was a tory, by. the name of Hinkson. As they approached nearer each other, Mike, finding that he was right in his conjecture, look- ed straight ahead, not wishing to be recognized. But the horseman, who had slackened his speed for the last rod or two, drew up, when he had arrived opposite to him. "Mike Larkin," said he, "you are the very lad I was in pursuit of." "Can't stop now," returned Mike. "And why not, pray V" "'Cause I've got to go over to Charlestown." '".For what?" "When I'm employed to go arrants, I don't tell everybody that asks me, what they are." "Is your employer a loyalist?" "Don't choose to tell." "Then I shall press you into my service at a venture." "I don't know, as to that," returned Mike; but, as he was settling in his mind how he could best make his escape, Major DiUmaa and other nma, both of them on horseback, made page: 26-27[View Page 26-27] their appearance. Any attempt at flight would have now been hopeless, and assuming an air of indifference, he awaited their arrival. They both halted. "This boy is wanted to carry a letter into Boston," said Hinkson; " for the provincial sol- dliers, should he meet with any of them, will let him go where he pleases; but he don't seem to be disposed to go." "I'm willing to carry your letter," said Mike, "if you'll allow me to go over to Charlestown first." "It wont do to trust you," said Hinkson. "The truth is," speaking aside to Major Dill- man, "it is supected that he has more than once betrayed to the inspection of the rebels written messages that llave been entrusted to him by the royalists, and that he has, on several occasions, rendered them very important service, which has resulted in injury to wus; it is, there- fore, thought best, in order to keep him from further mischief, that he be the bearer of a letter to a gentleman in Boston, who hs instru ction to prevent him from returning when he is once there." "It is the best lhing that, can be done," said- Mjgr Dillman, "for I have doubted, myself, w pether he cau be safely tru&te4. ICo," said he, tnurning to Mke, "the mdestage you ae re qqrd to carry, . ginkson tes me, G wiR adr mnt of no delaj." "You hear what the maior sas,"' said Rink- oq. "Here is the letter, which'yod will see is direted to Mr. Clavering, apd there is a paq- post, whicM will enable you wiput poletation toq eter the town." "It how am I to got clear of the provini soldiers, if any of 'em'shoqJ4 endqaYor to stoe me?" "If they should stop yory it 1q Iot likely tley wrill detain you long. Iftfy figld atept it I leave it to your own wits t9 eek eg e Fr of-them, which, I dare say, have c rrd you through worse difficulties than that." "I shouldn't wonder if they haye, replied Mike. "There is onet*jq," said. 14 aRlp "tha, it will be well for yon tolbear in i4. If thefet, tar to Mr. ClAerinP fails t rHach , i" isI somewhat doubtful to me whether you caa have, a c to c O ano4ie, either tp 44 o Wf b elsp*J 'A bofeeise." q , se fr Mii, Widget Heat f parley+ set foipar in, the igt 4irdor for Bor qp; bq nqt GptiuQ a some secret thoughts in his mind of slipping over to Charlestown, for the purpose of carry- ing the letter to Euphie, when, by crossing the ferry, he could convey the other missive to its place of destination. In this he was defeated, for Hinkson and Major Dillman, when he had gone only a short distance, turned their horses' heads in the same direction, and though they proceeded so slowly as not to overtake him, they kept so near as to be able to watch all his move- ments. Lionel Ainsworth, who had fully expected Mike to return by eleven or twelve o'clock, when the sun had passed the meridian, began to feel some anxiety. As the afternoon advanced without bringing him, he grew extremely im- patiws, and when, at last, night had fairly set in, and he still failed to make his appearance, he began to suspect that he had purposely deceived him, at the instigation, it might be, of Major Dillman or Rachel Dyson. The ensuing day passed on without bringing to Lionl any tii4gs of Mike, though he did not fail to make eOery possible inquiry. An- other day had come nearly to a close, when he wasw told bly a man of Ui acquaintwce that he had seen Aike, on the mor!pg Lionel had em- plQyed him to go to Charlestown, in close con- versation BiY Majer Dilm and two qoers whom he knew to be tori This information only increased Us solicitude, ad after a goo deal of hesitation, he concluded to ca& on u- phie and seek an exps antion of what apperd to him, her singular onduct. He had already commenced prepanng for his walk, when he re- ceived anote whbich amused him to alter his mind. It was aqpnymatus, and ran thus: "If you have any wish to know how Euphie Floyd spend her evenings, your curiosity may ,be gratified by inquiring of Major Dillman." "That I certainly shall not do," he 9sd to himself while a? a Siglt: ratfication to * e an- sr enM^ c au I j bar eing the note, be tore 4 intX bmut 9e 1Acs%. whj he scattered to the Several weeks, afWe. ^ aa ioel, lag ,n evenin V a, t yfcY himself,.there .aa lowr ^rt att 8 ^ r. AeoPn abeut. to rtr, it i d rbffiWR d O, s *4 w- t AdAeW Adr hteieenjaratped?a a n^ wPitu rjsi, fivro p I eat, bhe asked who was there. "W:. ,,TI--l. Katy" si ce, M vqiW iU 6WreX. ."'QC t 4,gr, a*, VA, Itell yd, sotfri^jpu .AtWknow.' . Lionel complied, though- with no very great alacrity, while his reception of his unwelcome visitor was certainly decidedly cold and ungra- cious. "Haven't you a glass of water to give me, and a bit of something to eat?" said Mike. "I haven't tasted a mouthful of anything for the last twenty-four hours." "Why, where .have you been?" asked Lionel, his compassion being at once vxcited, for he could see by the boy's looks that he was much exhausted. "Dodging the redcoats and the tories," said he. "And where have you been for the last three or four weeks?" said Lionel, as he took from a cupboard some bread and cold meat, and set them before him. Mike's story was soon told. That part of it already known, it is unnecessary here to repeat. When brought to the presence of Mr. Clavering, he gave him the letter, and was going-to with- drew, but was told to remain till he had read it. When he -had finished, he told Mike that he would not be permitted to return, and from that time till he succeeded in making his escape, he was held in close custody. 1"I don't -know," said Mike, that I should have tried to get away, quite yet, they watched me so snug, if it hadn't been for what I heard Mr. Clavering and a parcel more telling about, t'other night. There's none of the rig'lars or tories that'll be round- eve-dropping, just now, is there?t" "Inspect not. The walls are thick, and if you speak low, you caattothe heard, even if there; me; bVt first of all, tell 'tme what -hsbeo- come of the letter I gveB you?" "'The one I was to carry to Miss Buphie? Here it has been, safe as a thief in a-mill, ever since the -morning you gave it to me," said he, taking it from its secret depositorg. Lionel found, on examining it that; though it was much soiled and orn, the seal baore no mawks of having been tampere& with, He tas very gid to have it back again, for hei did not eaBtto have what relnated to -i pettmaal con. cerns and still lesa, what prBtji t&fr y wfivred- to Cupidi exposed to ehe influence of tha"5 who would b likely to nake Ajet o it,. "Now, cap'n," said Mike, at the' ya ti e- addiWMB^ himself with a rig Wlgod Lw&ithe bumsin , of despatching ft*is d beib refjlhW; "I'l ote n whatymade me so airtt get t out of the clutches of the tories, and the tarnal B redcoats, setting aside the nateral desire ta body * has to go and come when it suits him. As I said, jess now, I heerd Mr. daverig and a par- eel of the same stamp, talking over something mighty busy, close by the place where I slept. e I 'pocse that they either forgot I was there, or thought I *as asleep, for they spoked loud enough for me to make out the most of *hat a they said. They talked and grgufied a good I deal, but the upshot of the matter was, te Britisher were going to fortify Charlestown heights, and then, they said, they could have it all their own way, and the rebels would no longer be able to besiege Boston, but would t havre to buckle under, and come to such terms as they pleased to give 'em." 'Thlat is something worth knowing," said t Lionel. '* Did' you hear them say when the for- tificAtions were to be commenced?" "Ilight off, as near as I can find outg-a soon as they could get ready." "And when was it that you overheard their conversationl"t "Nighllt afore last. I tried to get awal that night, but couldn't find a chance." "Then certainly there is no time to lose. I shouldn't wonder if they commenced to-morrow momitng."- "I If they wtere Yankees they wdtuld, bMt the Britishers have the ordering ofthings, you knoW --the thries being nothing more nor les4ithan their utiderlings-and, somehow, they seem fla- terally to have a way of moving slower than we, who wter born and bred this side of the Water. And now, ap'n, that I've got my mind fieed, - and made a good hearty meal into the bargaid, I fel ts if I cdoldn't keep my eyes open anotner minute. You see I did not sleep a wink last night, for "twas near daylight afore I got clear of the town, and then I had to keep hid till dorl, fartfe& someof 'em would find me, and carry me back again. Jess let me have a place on tie floorf hi;r arnd I shall bel suie to sleep like a top "I can do better for you than that," said Lit- el, ari eminbg a loset, he dtew thence a sac - dtte Ait B df- sh arranged it, aa to make-pt to Mike, who so often slept oi the bare ground, and tote*et still, on the soft side of a board, as 'cotfrble *'bed as he degitAe {' tXnta-I sleep like a prince 2 it'd Aeh&, M ; tomk poyiesion of it, and where he had &r 'time to compose himself in an attitcde'f s-r e * page: 28-29[View Page 28-29] to sleep, before his senses were fast locked in forgetfulness. Lionel went to the window and looked out. By the aspect of the heavens he knew it was near midnight. Most of the company that had chosen him their captain, were at Cambridge, the head quarters of General Ward, and where, for the most part, for the last three or four weeks, he had himself been. It was fortunate, that on this particular night, Lionel had occasion to return to his old lodg- ings, as otherwise Mike might not have been able to find any one to whom he would have been willing to tell his story, till too late to make it of any avail. After a few minutes' reflection he determined to set out immediately for head-quarters. He made an attempt to rouse Mike, that he might lock the door after he was gone, an undertaking which he soon found to be hopeless. Had the poor lad, as was often the case, gone to sleep with' an apprehension of impending danger, a single touch or word would have awakened him; but now, having abandoned himself to repose, with a feeling of perfect security, he was as un- conscious of external influences as if he had been one of the seven sleepers. Lionel, under existing circumstances, did not think it prudent to leave the door on the latch; he therefore locked it on the outside, and con- eluded that he would leave the key at Miles EUslworth's. His voice was at once recognized, when, stopping beneath a chamber window, he called to Miles. "Stop one moment," said Miles, approaching i the window, "and I will come down and let you in" "What has happened ." he asked, having un- i barred and opened the door. ] "Close the door, and I will tell you," said i Lionel; " for it is something that I don't choose i to give even the birds of the air a chance to t hear." t " I will go to Cambridge with you," said Miles, s after listening to what Lionel had to say.- - " Our commander will of course wish to antici- pate the British in fortifying the heights of v Chariestown, and for that purpose strong and willing hands will be needed." a "I hall see you to-morrow, I think, some t time in the course of the day," said her husband, t and he and Lionel, after bidding her good night, set out in a brisk walk for the head-quarters of r the provincial army. f "I forgot to leave the key," said Lionel, stop- ping short, when they had gone only a few steps. "Wait a minute, while I run back with it." He explained to Hannah in a few,words the use she was to make of 'the key. Once more bidding her good night, he turned to go, when X she said: "I forgot to tell you that I heard from Euphie yesterday. She wrote me a few lines. She says her mother is better, and that although Ma- jor Dillman has called several times, she has refused to see him." "Did she say anything about me?" "Not much, though more than you deserved." "What did she say .' "She merely asked if I ever saw or heard any thing of you now. She has twice the reason to be jealous of you, that you have of her." "What makes you think so?" "Haven't I seen you walking with Rachel Dyson more than half a dozen times?" "Yes, twice that number, if you have seen me every time I have walked with her; but I always came across her accidentally, and as she in every instance was going the same way I was, and always appeared to be in a very social mood, I could not avoid her without seeming rude." "I could tell you a few things about Rachel, but I must not detain you. Of one thing,-how. ever, you may be certain-whenever it suits her purpose, she does not scruple to carry two faces under one hood." When Lionel and Miles Ellsworth reached the head-quarters of the provincial army, the first appearance of dawn was brightening the earth. The commander, to whom Lionel immediately obtained access, without delay commenced act- ing upon the important information so fortanate- ly obtained. In a few hours afterward, the different commanders had issued orders for a detachment of a thousand men to intrench on the heights of Charlestown. It was the six. teenth of June, and everything, to all appear- ance, remained as usual till after dark. It was midnight when those, who in obedience to orders had assembled for the purpose, went to work. They labored so silently, and with such expedition, that at daybreak a redoubt had risen, as if by magic, on the spot where the arhy and, the shipping of the British could be most effec- tually annoyed. It was the first intimation which the English received, that the Americans had anticipated them in obtaining possession of so important a spot. CHAPTER VI. THE BATTLE OF BUNKER HLL. Arm, arm, my lord; the foe vaunts in the field.--King Richard Itl. A FEW rosy clouds which had heralded the morning, still hovered in the eastern sky, when the first beams of the sun, shooting upward like golden arrows, turned them to a rich crimson. The green hills, also, with the breeze full of gladness and melody, sweeping over them, began to brighten, while the dark shadows that lay upon their sides slowly and silently crept down- wards towards their base. Enphie Floyd had already risen, and was watching the lovely scene from her window, when suddenly the report of fire-arms broke the morning stillness. Scarcely had the sound ceased, when she heard a confused murmnur of voices, and, looking into the street, she saw men,.many of them armed, hurrying rapidly along. "What can be the meaning ofv this firing, and all this noise and confusion?" said Mrs. Floyd, calling to her daughter from her room. ".I cannot tell," replied Euphie; "but I can see on one of yonder hills, what I should think to be the beginning of some kind of fortifcation, and men seem busily at work." "Are they British, or Americans ." "I cannot tell." "Yes you can," said Euphie's brother, a lad of fifteen, who at that moment entered the room, and approached the window where she stood.- "Look and see what color their coats are-that will tell you." "I cannot see very distinctly," said Euphie, "but I believe they are not red." "They are not, certainly," said he, after directing a keen, searching glance towards the spot where men were at work. He darted from the room, and the next mo- ment Euphie heard him calling her. "What do you wish, Roland?" she inquired. He came back to the door, and made a sign for her to be silent. "Come here," said he, in a low whisper. She followed him to a back room, there he was removing a fowling-piece from the bracket which supported it. "Roland," said she, with a startled look, "what are you going to do?" "I am going over on that hill' to fight for liberty with the rebels." "O no-you must not-mother will never conlsent." "She need not know that I am going." "But she will inquire for you, and I must tell her." ' *"No you needn't. Tell her I have gone out to see what is going on." "I shall tell her the truth. It would be wrong to deceive her. What if you should never re page: 30-31[View Page 30-31] turn . The shock would be greater than if she knew where you were, as she would then, in some measure, be prepared for the worst." "You are right. I will go myself and tell her what I intend doing." By this time, greatly alarmed by the confusion in the streets, and the continued firing, by which the British were attempting to dislodge the Amer- icans, who still went on with their intrench- mente, Mrs. Floyd, though weak--not being re- covered from her illness-had risen and entered the apartment adjoining her bed-room. The countenance of Roland Floyd was spark- ling with enthusiasm as he entered her presence while the level sunbeams, glancing in at the window, wove a kind of halo around the bright, golden curls which in rich masses clustered ] round his forehead. It struck her, that she had E never seen her son look so well before, and for a i moment every' other thought and feeling were merged in those of fond admiration of his fine , and intelligent countenance. "Mother," said he, "I have come to ask a i favor of you." "What is it, my son ." "I want to join our countrymen and strike a blow for liberty." "Roland, I cannot let you go." c "Don't say so, mother." "If you should fall, what should I do . What a would Euphie do?" "If my father was alive, would he remain idle cl on asuch a day as this?" "I believe he would not," Mrs. Floyd was dz constrained to say. "I knowto he would not. My mother, suffer ne not the son of such a father to act the part of a at craven."' For a minute or more there was a sharp stng- gle in the breast of Mrs. Floyd. She could not 1r bring herself to tell her son to go, neither could she find it in her heart to encourage him to stifle p his enthusiasm, and sit quietly down, when she knew that even his youthful arm might aid the cause of freedom. Bending her head, and veil- of ing her face with her hands, she for a few mo. T- ments remained silent. There was no need of thr words, for it was to Him who seeth in secret her of heart went forth for strength, aid and direction min this her hour of trial. Her countenance, not though sad, was perfectly calm when she again fr looked up. "Go, Roland," said she; "I believe it to be mp right that you should. Were year father alie, fort she he would not, as you say, be idle on such a day , in as this, neither would he prevent his son from sharing the danger and the glory." her Euphie, with a smile of encouragement on her lips, though the bright tears would start to her ion eyes, had hastily placed a few slices of ham, ich some bread, butter, and other edibles upon the er- table. ch- "You must eat some breakfast before you re- go," said she. d "No, I must not stop. Every moment's de- lay will increase the difficulties I shall find in k- my way, ere I shall be able to reach those to ce, whom I wish to render my humble yet willing ;he aid." it. "Where is your knapsack, then? Let me ed put something into that. If you have nothing id to eat, you will long before night be overcome a with faintness and fatigue." e "I hope to be back in season to eat supper te with you," said he; and, without trusting him- self to attempt a word of leave-taking, he left a the room. With emotions of the keenest anxiety Euphie watched the progress of events, as well as she a was able, from the window. Te Americans, though the British did not cease to keep up a constant fire, went on reo- lutely with their work, first firnishing the redoubt, t and then raising a breastwork. Mrs. Floyd was obliged to recline in her easy- chair, and turn away from the light of the win- dow, which fell with a painful glare upon her B dazzled eyes. It ats about noon, and Euphie, who had never, at any one time, left the window fire min- k utes, allowed a sudden exclamation of alarm to escape her. "What's the matter, my daughter?" said Mrs. Floyd. "O mother!" she exclaimed, "the British we preparing for an attack." !' Where At what point?" "They have landed a short distance southeast of what Mr Wellford told me was a redoubt, There are thousands and thousands of them- thee times as many, I should think, as there are of the Americans." The fears of Euphie, who of course understood nothing of the mysteries of military tactics, were, for a while, relieved; for instead, as she appre- bended, of the British troops rushing at once upon the provincials, they commenced slowly to form two linm. Three houn. were consumed in tHis manet, whea thow began to dvance to- wards the Americans "What do you see now, Bupbie ' said Mrs. Floyd, as she saw trat her daughter &awimed an attitude of eager attention. "The English have adnanea d withi ten or twelve rods of the rxdodbt. The last two or thfesorda of Euphie's an- swer were lost in the noiie made by the furious discharge of small fireoarmS in the hands of the Americans, who, in obediene to te orders of General Putnam, reseried thir fire "till they coutld see the white of their enemies' eyes."' The shock was so sudden and so deafening, that they both remained silent a minute or two. Then Euphie joyfully exclaimed: "They turn! They fly! All seems confu- sion and disorder."- "Do you mean the British T" "' Yes." "Can it be possible, when their numbers are so much greater? But the Gd of battles is, as I trust, on our side."' Though the thoughts of both mother and daughter turned constantly to the bright-eyed boy, who a few hours before had left them, and now, they doubted not, was one among the number whom they saw gathesred on the brow of the green hill, which rose at no great distance, his name did not pass the lips of either. They could not trust themselves to speak of him. There was another, too, who was ever present to the mind of ERphie. LiontB Ahiasworth, she felt certain, was there. He wa not one of those who would shrink from da ger, and if his com pany was not include: among those ordered thither, he would himslf go. as a volunteer. Euphie still retained her oes at. ti window. "How goes the 'batle now .? , asked: her mo- ther. "The British still: fly. The hcers are triv'- ing to rally their men. Their swlods flash in the bright sunshine, a thtty try to stay their flight. They have acqomplished the ir purpose. They have compelled them to tarn, and they now push them forsiard to, a seond attack." With beating he arts iad in reathlesa s iloence Mrs. Floyd and her daughter awaited the result. And it was awaited not oly by them, but by crowdis of anxious spectators, who fidlethe hills and steeples of Boston, anw ever othier spot wimr the eye could; wtoh the holrrid scne of caarmade, - All at once, anott'h report off rEamm, as loud andaa furious as before, proclaimed the manner in which the British were greeted. YO Que. mow. thel English soldiers fly," said E;up , as soon as the cloud of smoke which howerdt over the field of battle had partially roled away; and once more, she added, after a few moments' pause, "the officers strive to turn them back. They obey, for the Swords in the hands of the commanders meet, as before, the breasts of those who would make their escape." At this moment a cry of consternation was heard in the street. Euphie looked towards the place whencei the cry proceeded, and beheld women and children wildly hurrying to and fro. A few men were also seen, who by age or infirm- itywere prevented from joining their country- men on this: memorable day; and others, their numbers fewer still, whose sympathies were with those at that moment engaged in deadly conflict with the Americans. One of the men passed so near. as to enable Euphie to speak to him. "'What has happened?" said she. "What new cauose is there for alarm l'* "Word has come that General Gage has is- sued an order for our village to be set on fire," replied the gentleman addressed. "A party from the Somerset man-of-war have been sent to Copp's Hill, where a battery has been prepar- ed for the purpose." He had hardly ceased speaking, when the roar of cannon was heard, and several shells were bhurled through the air, all except one of which fell to the ground and exploded, without doing any particular damage. This struck the roof of house and set it on fire. Others followed in quick sUcession, and in a comparatively short time the flames were rising from the roofs of a dozen houses. Being built of combustible ma- terias, the; fire was communicated from one house o'anothar with lightning rapidity. The wildest confusion and alarm prevailed every- where- AS first, those in the streets betook themedves to the shelter of the houses, that they might escape injury and perhaps death, from the fieid missiles which were falling around them. Whenm, at last, the furious raging of the flames show d the destroyers that their work was fit- fully done, they remained beside their cannon, quiet spectaor of the scene of destruction, con. fusion and distress. Euphie could watch the progress of the battl , ,Q longer. Already had the devouring fieares sei mpo thiicr own dwelling. She knew not page: 32-33[View Page 32-33] what to do. For herself she cared not. She was young, strong, and courageous, and could easily make her escape. But when she looked at her mother, enfeebled by her recent illness, agitated by the thoughts of her son's peril, and the terrible scenes enacting around her, her cour- age almost forsook her. She ran into the street, and wildly called for help, but those on whom she called, had, themselves, need of assistance. Euphie returned to her mother's apartment. The house, though it had been one of the last to take fire, was on one side enveloped in flames. "Give me the support ofyour arm, my dangh. ter," mid Mrs. Floyd, calmly, "and I will try and make my escape." It was of no avail. Even with Euphie's as- sistance, she was unable to rise from her chair. Excessive agitation had deprived her of what little strength she had. "Fly, my child, and save yourselfl" said she. Euphie, who had placed herself at her mother's feet, her despairing face looking up into hers, moved her white 'lips as if she would have an- swered, but terror, mingled with a throng of un- f speakable emotions, chained her tongue. a The fire was rapidly gaining ground. Jets of 1 flame, now and then, darted past the windows of their apartment, heating the glass, and ren. ] dering the atmosphere within almost suffocating. v Once more Mrs. Floyd addressed Euphie: t " Go, my daughter-go-I command you." x Euphie shook her head, without making any b motion to rise. d All at ODCe, Mrs. Floyd assumed an attitude c of eager listening. a "BSurely," said she, "I hear voices in the pas- tl sage which leads to the staircase." d Euphie heard them, too, and they were voices fo which she knew and loved. Springing to her fo feet, she gained the head of the stairs almost at tJ a single bound. M " Roland J Lionel! This way-quick-save w my mother!" was the broken sentence which greeted them. tu Lionel, almost with the celerity of thought, or rushed up stairs, and lifting Mrs. Floyd in his th arms, bore her into the open air. It was not a th moment too soon. When only a few steps from the house, a massive column of flame, here and El there throwing out a spiral wreath, for a few se- ma conds shot upwards, and then suddenly sunk. de, The roof had fallen in. " Roland, keep close to me, and take care of tar your sister," said Lionel, as threading his way ine the among the smoking ruins, and, here and there, ld a building still unconsumed, with the hot cinders ed lying so thickly in his path as almost to scorch as, his feet, he bore the invalidato a place of tempo- nd rary safety. In a few minutes they were joined ir- by Miles Ellsworth, who, the moment he could, et, hastened to the scene of conflagration, in order m to seek Mrs. Floyd and Euphie, and render them what assistance he was able. it. "You and your daughter must go to my to house," said he, addressing Mrs. Floyd. "We can make you quite as comfortable, I think, as h- you would be st your brother Carwick's, for 7 Hannah is a good nurse, and knows your ways, and what will suit you far better than any one a- there." r. "I should much prefer going to your house," it replied Mrs. Floyo, "but I am afraid we shall make you a great deal of trouble." 3. "You wont make us a bit, and if you did, the s pleasure of having you there would more than 3, make up for it. I will go right away, and try to - procure some kind of vehicle to take you there, - for it wont do for you to stay here in the open air much longer. The dew will begin to fall by f the time we shall be able to reach home." The place to which Lionel had conveyed Mrs. Floyd, was but a short distance from the road, where, seated on a large, smooth rock, beneath the shelter of a tree, and, leaning against Euphie, under different circumstances she would have been quite comfortable. Now, desolation and distress surrounded her. Though the fury of the conflagration was past, wreaths of smoke, now and then brightened by bursts of lurid flame at their base, ascended slowly from the ruins of the dwellings, which had so- lately been the homes of four thousand individuals, who had lived in com- fort and plenty, and were now doomed to pover- ty and exile. Mrs. Floyd, after the departure of Miles Ellsworth, remained silent a few minutes, with her, eyes fixed on the mournful spectacle. "We still have one another left," said she, turning her head away, so as no longer to look on the sad prospect. "It was a heater loss than the one we have met with, which I feared this morning when Roland left us." "We are better now without a home," said Euphie, ".than we should have been to have it made desolate by losing him. We have a great deal to be thankful for." Lionel knew by the look which she involun- tarily turned towards him, as she ceased speak- ing, that he, as well as Roland, was in her thoughts, and from that moment, the last, lin- gering emotion of jealousy was put to flight. "You have not told us yet who were victori- ous," said Euphie, addressing Lionel. "The Americans, I should say," he returned, "though, as on account of our powder failing us we were finally obliged to retreat, I shouldn't wonder if the English claimed the victory." "Did many fall?" asked Mrs. Floyd. "A great many of the British," replied Lionel. "More than a third of the three thousand that made the first attack." "And the Americans?" said Euphie. "Comparatively few were slain, yet among that few one has fallen, whose loss will cast a gloom over the whole country." "Who is it?" "General Warren." "General Warren?" said Mrs. Floyd and Euphie, speaking both at once. "Yes, a ball struck his head when we first commenced our retreat, and he died in the trenches. Though we effected a retreat with but little loss as far as numbers are concerned, when we remember that it was then that War- ren fell, we must call it a great one." "He had held his commission only a short time,'I believe," said Euphie . "No, only a few days, and having no com- mand assigned him in the battle, he fought as a volunteer." "I helped support. him a few moments, after he fell," said Roland, "and -I could not help thinking how much better I could be spared than he." "Do you remember how much your life is worth to me, and to your sister?" asked his mother. "I was thinking how much he could have done for our country, if he had lived," said Roland. "I-don't think it would be hard to die as he did. His countenance looked very calm and beauti- ful-don't you think it did, Lionel?" "Yes, I was much struck with the expression of sweetness and gentle languor by which it was pervaded." f Will he not be greatly missed in our civil councils?" asked Mrs. Floyd. "He will; he was at their head, and as the destined leader of our military bands, it will be hard to fill his place." Miles Ellsworth now made his appearance With a covered wagon, that he had obtained of a farmer at a. considerable distance. Roland, the moment the wagon arrived, sat out on foot, as by crossing the fields he could so shorten the distance that he could reach their place of des- tination in such season as to prevent Hannah Ellsworth from being taken by surprise, page: 34-35[View Page 34-35] CHAPTER VII. THI BXILES AT THE COTTAGE. Patient of labor, with a litle pleased, Health ever blooming ; unsaibitious tol.-Thomson's Seasons "THE queen of England would not be half so welcome as your mother will, and you and your sister, too," said Hannah, after listeing to IRe- land. "You cannot imagine how gladd itid thankful I am, to think that we have a comfort- able house and decent accommodations to offer to one who gave me a home, when I was a poor orphan girl." "Mother, who is not able to do anything yet, is afraid it will make your task very hard." "I am strong, and have .a willing heart-two things which go very far to make labor light. My heart is light too, now, though sad and heavy enough it has been all day. Every time I heard the sound of wheels in the road,. it made my heart throb, for I couldn't help thinking that Miles might be brought home wounded, or per- haps dead. Captain Ainsworth, you say, has escaped being hurt, too?" "Yes, but neither he nor your husband escap- ed because they avoided danger. General Put- nam and some of the other officers noticed how brave they were. They wont be forgotten." "That makes me feel glad, and proud too, a little. Yet after all it has been a dreadful day." "It has, and a glorious one, too, for the Americans. That is what I heard a great many say." "How came Charlestodn to be burned? Did the fire take aceidentU .' "No indeed. It was burnt by order of Gener- e I agg." "If it seems the same to others as it does to me, it wont prove to be a feather in his cap. It was mean, I think, to set fire to a place when all the inhabitants were away except the women and children. I shouldn't have thought that there was anybody that would have been guilty of such a thing, except the wild Indians." "That is what I think. Do you know, Han- nah, that we have lost everything? Furniture, clothing, and the library my father collected at such great cost, and with so much frouble- all are gone-nothing but a heap of ashes. Fa- ther's portrait, too, that mother valued so highly, is burnt." "No, the portrait is saved." "How can that be?" "It seems that you haven't missed it from the library lately." "I had not been into it for more "than a week." "How glad I am that it happened to fall, and injure the frame. You know that Miles is inge- nious-can do almost anything he undertakes, and Euphie, without- saying anything to your mother about it, got him to call over one day, and take it home, so as to repair it." "It is here, then?" Y. es," "There is a little comfort in that; but don't let mother see it yet. She thinks it is gine, and the surprise, though a pleasant one, might excite her too much." "No, I wont say a word about it at present. Come this way, Roland, and look at this room. I want you to see if you think your mother will like it." ".It is a very pretty room, and a pleasant one," said Roland, after carefully surveying it. "She will like it, I know." "This, and the chamber over it, are the two pleasantest rooms in the house, I think. Look out of the window, and see that fine elm. Whea the sun rises in the morning, the shadow of those graceful boughs is thrown against the white wall opposite, and with the gold of the sUa, shine intermingled, it looks to me as beautiful as a picture. There, how stupid and forgetful I am," said she, starting, and brushing her hand across her forehead. "About whatl?" "Don't you think that I have forgotten, all this time, to ask you if you would like some- thing to eat. Likely as not you haven't:tasted food since the morning." "O yes, I have. Euphie furnished my, knap. sack so well, that I had enough for myself and several others, among whom were Lionel Ains- worth and your husband." "How thankful I am. I expected that Miles would have come home to get something. I had enugh- all ready for him, but he couldn't come, I suppose." "There they are, at last,' said Roland, and he and Hannah were on the door-step at the same moment the wpgon drew up before the house. Mrs. Floyd was soon seated in a lange cush-i ioned chair, in the pleasant room prepaed for : her. Very cheerful was the voice, and pleasant i the words, with which Hannah greeted hers 1 though a moisture, do all she could to prevent it, would now and then dim her eyes, when sht 1 thought of the home now laid waste, sldueeat ' ed to Mrs. Floyd by memories and aaociarionse i that, by no possible means, could cluster around any' other ' Hannah wheeled round the .hair, so as to fropt thm window that looked out on the fine old tehn, and a green, flowery slope, dotted with oaks aad maples, which; with a better taste than iR aftn i manifested, had been spared by the owner's axe. "You see," said Mrs. Floyd, " to what ff state 't of helplessness sad dependence I am reduced.' a "Yor helplessness," said Hannah, speakiag e in that cordial, cheery manner which is one of the best medicines for an aching heart, " is all owing to your late illness, and will be gone' be- fore you think of it, now that you will have I plenty of friesh air to breathe." "And as for your being dependent, .mother," ' said Roland, " it will only be for a little while. I am young, healthy, and strong, and shall' be able, before a grea while, to provide a home for us all." "I know that you will do your best," replied his mother; "but Euphie and I must, for the present, lookout far ourselves. You have put iyour hand to the plough, and must not look back. This morning I consecrated you to the cause of freedom. You are not mine now, but youreoun. try's, as longas your services are needed." Roland's countenance brightened. "Will you-can you spare, me, then?" he said. "I thought that now, it would be my duty to stay and work for you." "I shall claim that privilege now," said, Eu. phie, who stepping lightly round, assisting Han- nah, had entered the room in season to hear these last remarks. Tears filled Mrs. Floyd's eyes, but they were tears ofjoy, rather than sorrow. .. "I cannot count myself poor," said sh ", as long as I have two such- children." Lionel, who had been out .to procure some water from one of those springs whose, cool wa- ters are so grateful to the thirsty lipj and. were often found sparkling like- diamonds in sqme green pasture, or on some hillside, now enteredi and offered some of it to Mrs. Floyd. Nothi n could look more tempting than it did, throwing up. bright, tiny bubbleS to the rim of the tumbler. of cut glass. It was the only vessel of the kind in the house, and had beenpresenfed to HannaBO by: herselfas a wedding- gift. . a Thank you,"' said she, as she. returned .t tumbler to Lionel. "-The goddesofs of hteft musb. preside, over the spring whence t"latiwS drawn."' "Were it not. for the war," said he, "thee place here, where our friends livej would be air earthly paradise." "I forgot. to inquire about Mike," said ioa nel, entering the;kitchen, and addressing Hatn nah, where shei aui Euphie were' both; but page: 36-37[View Page 36-37] preparing supper. "You let him out, I suppose." "O yes. I didn't go till after I had washed my breakfist dishes, and gat my cheese to whey, and then he had hardly got his nap out. The poor boy must have been very tired, I think." "Where is he now?" "I don't know. I persuaded him to stay till after dinner, and then he said he meant to find you, if he could, and see what was going on." "Are you speaking about Mike Larkin?" asked Miles. Lionel told him they were. "I saw him before the battle," said Miles. "He worked an hour or more, helping to raise the breastwork. A part of the time he was close by my side. After the first onset by the British, I saw nothing morepf him." "I shouldn't wonder," said Lionel, "if he was killed." "Poor boy, I hope not," said Hannah. "I know that he has no relations to lament his loss; but that makes it seem more mournful to me. Euphie, we will set the table in your mo- ther's room, because it will be so much more convenient for her." "Let me set the table," said Euphie. "Yes, I shall be glad to have you, and I will take those rye cakes oct of the oven. Our rye, this year, is the nicest I ever saw. Miles raised it on a piece of burnt ground, and the bread made of it is sure to be as light as a puff, and full as white as wheat, or if anything, a little whiter, I believe. Did you ever taste any liberty tea, Euphie?" "No, 1 never did." "Well, I am going to have some for supper. I gathered and prepared a good lot of it, and I ike it full as well as I do bohea. You will find my china set in the west room cupboard." Euphie went to the west room for the china, and Hannah, during her absence, took the cakes from the oven, also a custard, baked'in a large; deep plate, which, when Euphie returned to the kitchen, she told her was done exactly to suit her, it being mottled with a rich brown and a bright golden yellow, that, to her mind, was altogether nicer than those pale looking things, that looked as if they were baked in the sun. "It seems strange to me," said Hmnnah, as she stood skimming from a pan of milk some of the richest of cream, to eat with a dish of wild strawberries, "that I feel so cheerful as I do, when I know so many are mourning over their- dead, or pained by the sufferiugs of those dear to them, who are wounded. But there was such a weight lifted from my mind, when I found I that Miles was unhurt, and that the other friends r I thought most of were safe, I felt light as a bird, and a gush of sunshine seemed to come from somewhere and spread all round me." The rye cakes, butter with a flavor as sweet I as the grass and white clover-heads which the cows fed on, ,the custard, and the strawherries and cream, were all delicious, to say nothing of the " liberty tea," and the more substantial viands, provided for those who during the day had seen such hard service. All assembled round the table, though no one, except Mrs. Floyd, took a seat, till the master of the house, who was deeply imbued with the spirit'of the Puritan fathers, had said grace. This he did with a fervor, pathos and devotion, raised far above the ordinary tone, by the pecu- liar circumstances, some of them afflictive, others calling for devout gratitude, that had brought them together. On a less momentous occasion, so many things crowded upon his mind, to which he was fain to give utterance, it might have seemed tedious. Now, the hearts of his auditors, beating in uni- son with his own, were carried along on the tide of his simple yet earnest eloquence, and they seemed, as it were, to be released from a spell, when, at the end of full fifteen minutes, his voice ceased. It had begun to grow so dark, that lights were brought in, to eat supper by. The meal was fin- ished, and Hannah and Euphie were clearing off the table, when a cart, drawn by oxen, stopped opposite the house. The man who drove the team, came to the door, and rapped against it with his goad. Miles Ellsworth answered the s8mmons. "Is Captain Lionel Ainsworth here?" the man inquired. "Hq is," replied Miles. "I am glad to hear it. I stopped a piece back of here, where I thought it likely enough I might hear from him, and a woman told me, that she rather thought I should find him here. She was pretty sure, she said, she saw him come up this way." "Will you walk in?" said Miles. "Thank you-can't stop. Please to ask him to come to the door." Miles went back into the house, and sent Lio- nel to take his place. "I've got a boy here in my cart," said the man, "who says he wants to speak with you. He's been over to Bunker Hill, and has got wounded." "Here I am, cap'n," said a voice from the cart, " and I can't take a step more'n if I was. a baby three months old." Lionel, the moment he heard his voice, knew it was Mike Larkin. "I am sorry for you, Mike," said he, advanc- ing to the side of the cart. "Are you much hurt?" "Yes, dreadful bad. A musket ball took me in the knee, and tore it all to smash, I believe. I dragged myself along some way, I can't tell how, till I reached the foot of the hill, and this man, who had come with his cart to carry away some of the wounded, was so kind as to put me in with the rest. They all had a place to go to but me, and arter I was left in the cart, all alone by myself, I thought, maybe, you wouldn't mind letting me lay on that bed where I slept so nice, last night." "You shall 'have a better bed than that, my poor boy," replied Lionel. "Yes," said Miles, who finding that there was some one in the cart that was wounded, had re- turned to the door. "You shall have a good bed, and in this house, too, and with Hannah's help, I will take care of you. Come here, Han- nah, a minute," raising his voice so that she might hear. "Why, Mike,"' said she, looking over the side of the cart, "you have got wounded, haven't you?" , 3 5 v "Yes-never shall run any morb arrants, I'm afeared." "Well, you mustn't lie here any longer, that is certain. You are in a good deal of pain-I can tell that by your looks." "I thought, Hannah," said Miles, "that we might have a bed put in some quiet place for him, till he could get about again." "That we can," returned Hannah. "There's a nice room in the back part of the hNouse--not very large, but cool and comfortable, with a bed in it. The scent of the clover-fields will come in at the window, and the hum of the bees, as they fly about, gathering honey for the hive, will make him sleep, if he does have some pain. I didn't know what put it into my head to fit up that little room, and put a cot-bed into it; but now I begin to find out." Lionel and Miles removed poor Mike from the cart, as gently as they could, and carried him to the bed, furnished with homemade linen, which, though of a coarse texture, was as white as snow. Hannah, who had derived from an old Indian woman a good deal of skill relative to the quali- ties and proper application of roots and herbs, was not long in selecting from her store, such as she thought would most probably be- needed, for, she knew that surgical aid was in such requisi- tion, that it would be useless to attempt obtain. ing any till morning. Assisted by Lionel and her husband, she did her best, and, in the course of an hour or two, she had the satisfaction of hearing from the lips of the patient, that he was much easier, and should soon be able to sleep. page: 38-39[View Page 38-39] CHAPTER VIII. THg BROdTHEW'S VISIT. Little re we beholden to your love, And little look for. t your helping Iands.-.King Riclard II. TER enfttsig morning, about ten o'clock, Han- nah i*#nt to Mrs. Fltyd's room to let her know thatir brother, Mr. Oarwick, had called to see her. The excitement occasioned by the agita- ting scenes of the day previous, had kept her wakel during tnost of the night, and, conse- q dently, she did not rise so early as she'had been eeitomed to since she began to be conrales- cent. S"hall lI invite him into your room?" asked Haimd. "Not yet-where is Euphie " "Here I am, mother," said a cheerful voice, and Euphie entered with her hands fall of wild flowers. "Are not these beautiful?" said she, laying the flowers on the table. "Hannah, I am going to request the loan of that pretty purple glass pitcher I saw in the cupboard, to put them in." "I'm sure you are very welcome; but wouldn't that beautifal tumbler your mother gave me, look better?" "I don't know but that it would; but if you please, Hannah, we will keep that for the spring. water, I don't believe that it would taste half so delicious in anything less clear and transparent, for then we couldn't see the bubbles rise and sparkle around the rim." "Did you know, Euphie, that your uncle has called to see us t" said Mrs. Floyd. "No, I did not," she replied, with heightened color. "He is in the other room--so Hannah tells me. You must defer arranging your 'flowers :now, and mssist tne to dress." "Yes, you assist your mother," said Hannah, "and I will put the room to rights, for I should like to have everything look as nice as possible 'befre Mr. CarWick comes in." "I think that aunt Carwick might have called with him," said Euphie. "No doubt she would like to have called," said Hannah, "but I suspect that your uncle would be afraid to trust her among such a parcel ' of rebels, lest she should swerve from her loyal- ty o" Hannah stepped lightly about, and with ready hands soon put everything in order. Euphie, too, had accomplished her task, and Mrs. Floyd was seated in the easy chair. "You may ask my brother to come in now," said she. "You must have a cup of chocolate first," said Hannah. "I have some made, nice as it can be." "Yes," said Euphie; "for you wont have strength to say a word to uncle Carwick, if you don't have something." "I am afraid that he will be tired a waiting, but I do feel in need of something." "And while Hannah goes for the chocolate," said Euphie, "I will get some water . in : the pur- ple glass pitcher, and arrange the flowers. Only look at this spray of wild roses, mother. -Did you ever see anything so fresh and so lovely? They are just opening, and every rose'holds a dew-drop. And these, little bell-shaped -flowers -how very sweet and pretty they are. Who knows but that'a troop of fairies held a grand revel last night in honor of the Americans' bravery, -and drank dew to their future success from their delicate cups'?" "We have as good a right to think they did, as to imagine some other things which have been ascribed to them. At any rate, Euphie, I am glad that you feel cheerful enough to give such play to your fancy." "It is better than to be sad, mother," Euphie replied, though if she had confessed thetruth, Mrs. Floyd would have found that for her sake, much of her daughter's cheerfulness was as- sumed. "Does it suit you?" asked Hannah, when Mrs. Floyd had tasted of the chocolate. "Exactly. It could not possibly be better." "I thought it 'ould," remarked,lHannah, with a bright smile. "And do try to eat this piece of toast: It is of. the right thickness, I believe, and is nicely browned." "It is as nice as it can be. I think I shall be -able to eat a part." :Before Mrs. Floyd had finished her chocolate and toast, the purple glass pitcher, filled with the wild flowers, was placed opposite her on a lightstand, and the spicy fragrance of the wild roses,- and the sweet breaths of .the violets and columbines, were mingled with -4the -iroma of the clover fields and the racy odors of some pines and hemlocks, which floated in at the open windows. "Now I am ready to see my brother," said Mrs. Floyd, hastily- finishing her chocolate. "I am afraid he has grown impatient by this time." "No, I guess he hasn't," remarked 'Hannah; "He took some newspapers out of .his pocket, and has been busy reading them ever since he came." Mrs. Floyd, though -she exerted herself: to p- pear calm, was 'not wholly-successfill, whenshe: heard how emphatic were her brother's footsteps, as he approached the door. The -nament-he entered, she saw that there was an aagrgt.4plle iniis eye. :She held out her handitoht. v He did 'not'refuseto -receive, it, though it was with ' undisguised' coldness. Wr Well, Mary," said he, "I am sorry,to find I you here in a nest of rebels." ? "Why, you know, brother," she replied, "that t Hannah used to live: with me." 8 "That's nothing to the purpose. You know D what Ellsworth's principles are, and you'know, i as a matter of course, that she thinks'the same ' as he does." 5 "All I thought of," returned Mrs. 'Floyd, "when weak and helpless, I sat in the open air, , looking at the smouldering ruins of my home, B was Miles Ellsworth's thoughtful kindness, who cameon purpose to seek me and my daughter, D and Offer us the hospitality of his own comfort- able dwelling." "And when you accepted it, you knew that you had a brother not a quarter of a mile distant from here, who has always shown himself to be glad to see you." "Yes, I did know it, but-" She stopped short, though she with difficulty abstained from telling him that although he knew her housp was burnt to the ground, he neither went himself, nor sent another to inquire for her, or offer assistance. Without doubt,'he suspected she was thinking of something of the kind, for he remarked that he could not well leave home, -and concluded that some friend near by would take care of her. "Where is Roland ." he inquired. "Do you know, Euphie '." said Mrs. Floyd. "He went away with Miles,'after breakfast, I cannot .tell where." "He, I, am told, was with the rebels yesterday. Was it with your approbation he went," turning to his sister, "or did-he 'go without your know- 'ledge?" ".I know that he was going." "And approved of it?" "I did." "Mary, you don't know what you are doing, You are bringing ruin and disgrace on yourself and on your family." "Ruin, as far as worldly goods are concerned, is already come upon us, and that, not through 'the agency of the rebels, as you call them, but by order of a British general." "It is true that individuals have suffered,' but it will, no doubt, turn out to be for the public weal, as it ,will. show the disaffected that they have nothing to hope, unless they return to theit -allegiance." page: 40-41[View Page 40-41] "A great deal of good must result from it, in order to counterbalance the evil. For my own part, I think it was nothing more nor less than a piece of wanton cruelty." "I will provide a home for you and your children, if you will renounce your traitorous sentiments, and teach them to do the same." "I can do neither." "Then take the consequences. My doors will never be open to those who rebel against their lawful sovereign. How is it with you, niece? Are you as self-willed and as stubborn as your mother?" "I. don't think mother is either stubborn or self-willed." "You can make use of any terms you please. I wish to know if you think as she does?" "I am sorry to differ from you, uncle, but I must say that I do." Mr. Carwick knit his brows. "I do wish that Roland was here," said he, after a silence of several minutes. "I cannot help thinking that he would be willing to hear to reason." "Your definition of the word and his might differ," said Mrs. Floyd. "He is by his years and his wisdom prepared to give a very correct one, no doubt," said Mr. Carwick, ironically. "I should advise him to go and offer his services to the commander-in- chief, the rebels have chosen." "Have the whigs chosen one?" said Mrs. Floyd. "I had not heard of it." "So I understand." "Who is he?" "A fellow who is a native of Virginia. I for- get his name." "George Washington, is it not, uncle?" said Euphie. "I heard Miles Ellsworth and others speaking about his being appointed, this morn- ing." "If it is the same Mr. Washington who was present at Braddock's defeat, I don't believe that they could have made a better choice," said Mrs. Floyd. "I have often heard your father say, Baphie, that if General Braddock had listened to the counsels of the young provincial officer, George Washington, his own life and several hundred lives besides, would have been saved, to say nothing of the disgrace of the defeat." "I dare say," said Mr. Carwick, petulantly, "that he is possessed of every quality under tih sun requisite for a great commander. I suppose Lord Howe, General Burgoyne, and others I could name, would sink into utter insignificance when compared with him." "The time has not yet arrived," said Mrs. Floyd, "to compare him. with those who have already attained celebrity as military leaders; but, judging from the present aspect of affairs, 'a great commander will be demanded-greater than either of those you have named-and the demand according to all precedents recorded in history, will be answered. Admittipg this to be the case, it will not be strange, if the time should come, when the name of Washington will be far more illustrious than that of any British general now living.". "What you say, may, to you, seem very good logic: to me it is utter nonsense-the phantom of an idle dreamer." "I cannot think I am indulging in an idle dream." "Then you are wanting in common sense," said Mr. Carwick, angrily. "At any rate, the indulgence of such notions will sink you to the lowest state of degradation, and you will drag your children down with you. Euphie, before she went from my house, began to show a fond- ness for low company." "I was not aware of it. What do you call low company!" "Those who hold a lower position in society than we do. In a word, I choose to associate with none but gentlemen and ladies. What is the name of the fellow who was parading a company round here, armed with fowling-pieces and rusty muskets?" "I am unable to tell-do you know, Euphie?" "Uncle means Lionel Ainsworth, I suppose." "Lionel Ainsworth - Why, I owe my life to him, brother. Amid the confusion, conster- nation and distress, I must have perished in the flames, had he not, at the risk of his own life, borne me from my burning dwelling to a place beyond the reach of the conflagration." "What prevented you' from making your escape yourself? Had you not the presence of mind to do it?" "Why, my recent illness had reduced me so low, that I was unable to walk across the floor without support." "It is a pity that there was no one else at hand to rescue you. If you had kept Roland at home, where he ought to have been, you would have incurred no such risk." 'c I don't regret that I consented to let him go." "Well, well, I see that you are incorrigible, In your present humor, it is utterly futile to at- tempt to reason with you. Once more, and for the last time, I say to you, that my house will be open to receive you, the moment you are willing to renounce your foolish and absurd notions.'" "You may be certain, that the moment I am convinced they are foolish and absurd, I shall renounce them, and not till then." "' Then I bid you farewell, for if we meet again, it must be as strangers." "Be it so, since it is your wish, but I shall never forget that you are myibrother." As she spoke, she held out her hand to him, but he either did not, or would not, notice it.- And so he angrily passed out. CHAPTER IX. AN EXPLANATION. Here is my hand for my true constancy.- Two Gentlemen of Verona. I do not like thy look, I promise thee.-Much Ado about Nrothing. EUPHE stood looking out of a window, when a hand was laid gently upon her ,shoulder. She started, for she thought that no one else was in the room. "Lionel," said she, "I didn't know that you had returned. Did Roland come with you." "He did. Euphie, here is something I wish you to look at," and he put into her hand the poetry he,found some weeks previously, when' walking with Rachel Dyson. "How came you by this?" she inquired. "I found it." "When?" "Several weeks ago-the evening I expected to find you here with our friend Hannah." "And where did you find it ." "In the path near the river-that part of it bordered so thickly with hazel bushes." '"I cannot imagine how it came there." "You wrote it?" "Yes." "It is addressed to A. D. May I ask who is meant by A. D.?" "Amy Denny. You remember Amy?" "Yes, but I didn't think of her. It is strange I didn't." , i .' "I recollect no one' else whose name begins with those letters." "Not a certain major in the service of his majesty?" "Do you mean Major Dillman? I don't know what his Christian name is. I never had the cu- riosity to inquire." "It is Anson." "Then his initials are the same as Amy's?" "Yes." "And you thought the poetry was addressed to him-was it not so?" "At first i did-subsequently I had reason to think otherwise." "I could not have thought it of you, Lionel. Had I been going to address any one, except' a girl of my own age, I should not have selected verses like these. They are too much in the Phillis and Phiiander style. What did you think when youi read them ." "I hardly knew what to think. To confess the truth, my ideas were a little confused, and- I was a little jealous." "That makes me think what I was reading a few days ago;" aid half in jest, half in earnest, she repeated from Shakspeare: " Trifles light as air, Are to the jealous, obnfirmations strong As proofs of holy writ." C"Considering all the attendant circumstances, it was far from being a trifle. Only fifteen' or twenty minutes before I found it, you and Major Dillman were seen together in the path by the river." "Who saw us?" "Rachel -Dyson." "She t6ld you soa!" "And the evdeing before that she begged me to lend her the Verses -said' she wished to take a page: 42-43[View Page 42-43] copy of'them. She must have dropped them there herself-whether intentionally, or by acci- dent, it is not for me to say." "Intentionally, I have no doubt," said Lionel. "I suspected somethingjof the kind before; yet, as there were some things that rather puzzled me, I thought I should like to have an explana.- tion from your Own lips." "Why did you not write to me, if you could not call, and frankly ask an explanation?" "I did write," he replied, and he then told her respecting the letter which he intrusted to Mike Larkin, that, on account of his being pre- vented from going to Charlestown, never reached her. "And now," said Lionel, " one more question, and I have done-have you any suspicion how it happened that Major Dillman came for you, when your mother was taken ill?" "None in the world. I was so shocked at the news of her illness-for I was told that there was danger of my not reaching home in time to find her alive-the only thing I thought of was being able to arrive there in the least possi- ble time. I cared not by whose agency." "I believe I can tell you. The messenger sent for you, not knowing where your uncle Carwick lived, inquired, it seems, of Major Dillman, who volunteered his services to convey you home, and sent the man back-probably not t much against his will." "I can hardly see what his motive could be?" "His chief motive, I have no doubt, tas! to, give me still further cause to taink that you pre. ferred his attentions to mine. It was the same evening, you know, that you were to meethme: here." " Which I was prevented from. doing by. meet- ing him. I should like to knows whether his meeting me was accidental or. not." " I am nearly certain it was not. I have rea- a son to think he had received informat;on of your f intended call." "It must have been Rachel that told him," said 81 Euphie, as she recalled to mind what Hannah had intimated respecting her partiality for Lionel. "I think there can be no doubt of it," he re-. plied. "A slight clue will sometimes enable us to trace to their source the tangled. thread, of br treachery and deceit, however fine and subtle frj they may be. I sought an opportunity to speak hi to you on this subject, Euphie, not because I any dc longer distrusted you, but rather that youmight have no cause to distrust me; for I frankly con- to m fess, that I think you have had reason to do so. i- I ought, as you have intimated, to have sought an explanation at once. I have no excuse, ex- cept pride, for neglecting it, and that is a very t, bad one-worse than none, I believe. It is true dx that I wrote to you, and expected you would get a- my-letter; but it was not until some time after you had gone home." d "I must own," said Euphie, " that I thought the distance was not so very great but that you d might have called, or at least sent some one to o inquire for my mother." "e- You thought the same, as any one else would, d in your situation. I confess that I had little claim to the character of a true chevalier. For , the future I shall be more cautious how I judge v by appearances, and as I may, at any moment, , be called away, I will take this opportunity to assure you, that, let what will betide, I shall re- e main constant to the vows which have been e plighted between us. Will you promise me the e same-?" "I wilL" ,- At this moment they heard the door softly open, and, turning round, they beheld Rachel Dyson. Her demonstrations of joy, at. again 3 meeting Euphie, were too much overdone to ap. rpear natural Instead of merely offering to shake handsswith her, which was, all that at any period, their lukewarm -friendship warranted, she threw her arms round her neck with an appearance. of, rapturous delight. Euphie involuntarily shrunk from her embrace, which Rachel, however, did not seem to notice. "Captain- Ainsworth," said she, holding out her hand to him, when, much-to Enphie's relief; she had released her, "I was so overjoyed- to ,neet my lovely friend, and such a crowd of rec- ollections came pressing upon my mind, that, although I saw you at my entrance, I almost forgot you were here." "You are quite excusable," he replied coldly, suffering her to take his hand. "Your friends were very thankful," said she, "when they found that you had escaped unhurt." "I am much beholden to them," he returnaei And Euphie, I must congratulate you. Your brother is safe, I hear, as is also another dear friend of yours, who, though his principles lead him to espouse the wrong side, is, I have no doubt, entirely worthy of your regard/" "I know of no-dear friend, suoh aa you allude. to," said Euphie. "It answers very wellfor you to-say so. Ev- ery one knows that a little deception- in affairs of the heart may be tolerated; but, you know, that in this instance, you cannot expect- me to be blinded. When a young lady is seen taking evening walks and evening-drives- with a gentle- man who calls daily at her place of residence, it may be presumed that. they entertain a some- what tender friendship for each other. And, to confess the truth, I believe Major Dillman to- be worthy the friendship and esteem of any young lady." "I don't consider him worthy of mine," said Euphie, " though I have no wish that my opin- ion of him should in the least. influence that of others." "Only hear her," said Rachel, turning to Lio- nel. "She is determined to assert,-what some appear to think to be the privilege of our own sex." "May I ask what that is ." said Lionel. "Why, acting the coquette, to be sure," re- plied Rachel. Lionel looked very grave, but said nothing in reply. Rachel attempted, in vain, to construe that look. She could not determine whether it was intended as a rebuke to herself, or was occasion- ed by her having effected her purpose, in raising doubts in his mind as regarded Euphie. She, however, flattered herself that it was" the latter, yet she did not feel quite comfortable in the chill atmosphere that surrounded her. -"I hear that Mike Larkin is here," said she, after remaining silent a minute. "He is," replied Lionel. "And is badly wounded'?" "Yes." "Dangerously, do you think q" "His life is not thought to be in -danger, though it is feared he will be lame for life," re- plied Lionel. "That will be bad. I must see him before I go. If he is a poor little vagabond, I cannot help pitying him." Rachel, who seemed to possess a kind of in- stinct, as regarded localities, without inquiring ' where he was, or receiving the aid of any one, went directly to Mike Larkin's room. "Mike," said she, "I am sorry to see you here." "I can say the same to you," he replied, with a tone of impatience, and turning his head away from her. "Why are you sorry . I am sure I have al- ways been your friend." "There are some folks I don't want to have my friends." "You are in an ill humor, Mike." ' "So would you be, if you hadn't slept any ten or twelve. hours for pain, and then, jest as- you were forgetting yourself, have somebody come in and speak to you, and set your eyes wide open again." "In pain all night, were you!" "Yes, and all the morning, too." "I am afraid they don't take as good care of you as they ought-to." "You needn't be afraid: of it." "They do not take good care of you, then 'F "Yes they do-good as if I want a poor, good- for-nothing boy." "I suppose Captain Ainsworth and Miss Eu- phie nurse you?" "Miss Euphie has enough to do to take care of her mother, I should think. The cap'n, and Roland, and Miles and his wife are enough to take care of me, and they do it well, too." "Shan't I come, Mike, and watch with you to-night?" "I'm obleeged to you, but I'd rather not have you." "Why not?" "I don't know, but I kind o' think I shouldn't fancy to have you round me; when I am sick." "I would take good care of you." "Perhaps you would, but there's something in your face that don't make me feel good." "I am not handsome enough, perhaps, to suit you." "'Taint that. You are as handsome as Han- nah Ellsworth, and handsomer." "Can it be possible . -I am afraid, Mike, that you are not in earnest-that what you said was meant only for a compliment," and she tightly compressed her lips, and threw a look at him out of the corners of her eyes. "No, 'twant a compliment. You are hand- somer than Hannah, yet, I want to shrink away from you, for all that. A look from her bright, ,smiling eyes takes all the pain out of my knee, and as for Miss Euphie, when she comes to the door and looks in, and says with her pleasant voice, 'Mike, I hope you feel easier now,' a streak of gold sunshine comes right into my heart, and makes it feel warm and glad as a: bird r in its nest, with its mother's wings spread out over it. It makes me laugh and cry too." page: 44-45[View Page 44-45] "Well, since you think HaoA1h Ellsworth and Euphie Floyd are so much better than I am, I'll take care not to trouble you any more with my presence." "I'll thank you kindly if you wont," replied Mike. "And remember when you get well, if I want an errand done, I shan't ask Mike Larkin to do it for me." "Mike Larkin will never do any more arrants, He wont be-fit to do 'em. He'll never be able as he used to, to run so swift, and to dash the dew off of the grass and buttercups without hardly bending 'em. No, Mike Larkin will be lame as long as he lives." "I, for one, shan't be sorry," muttered Rach. el, between her teeth, and in a voice which she did not intend Mike should hear. But his ear was quick, and he lost not a word. "You are just spiteful enough not to be sor- ry," he soliloquized, when she had left the room. "Have you watch with me! I should be in fits before morning, only seeing her look at me out of the corners of her eyes. I don't know what the reason is, but it made me shudder every time she looked at me, when she was in here. I didn't mind it, though, when I was well, and suppose-" Whatever his supposition might be, it was not revealed, for before there was time to express it in words, Morpheus had waved his wand, and welcomed him to his shadowy realms. CHAPTER X. THE BAFFLED CHASE. Impute it not a crime, To me, or my swift passage, that I slide O'er sixteen years, and leave the growth untried Of that wide gap.--Winter's TaleI THOUGH the interval passed over between the incidents already related and those yet to be re- corded, does not make so wide a gap in the nar- rative as mentioned in the lines at the head of the chapter, yet the many stirring and moment- ous events by which it was distinguished, have left behind them a track of glory that must ever remain undimmed. There had been many a well-fought field, where Lionel Ainsworth, by, his courage and good conduct, had merited and received the ap. probation of his superior officers. Roland Floyd, also, had been'distinguished for his bravery; but wishing to escape the rigors of the northern cli- mate, during the winter season, he had obtained permission to join the southern army, of which General Greene had been, recently cho en by General Washington to take the chief direction. Lionel, induced partly by the solicitations of Mrs. Floyd, who was desirous that he should take some oversight of her son, and partly by his wish to see his mother and sister, asked and obtained leave to accompany him. Not long after they arrived at the encampment of the Americans at Charlotte, Roland, whose imagination was excited by daily accounts of the brilliant exploits of the two great partisans, Marion and Sumter, without consulting Lionel, obtained leave to join the former. The first in. timation he received of Roland's design, was from a letter that he found lying by his bedside one morning, his young friend having taken his departure from the camp the evening previous. It said: "When you read this, my dear Lionel, I shall be many miles from here. I confess that I did wrong in not consulting you, but I knew that the promise you made my mother would cause you to use your influence to prevent me from taking the step I have. If you ask why I took it, my answer is, I could not be happy where I was. The fascinations of partisan warfare, such as I hear it almost daily described, have taken a strong and irresistible hold of my imagination. It is so different a thing to be drawn up in a line to be shot at, from being mounted on a fleet horse, surrounded by a dozen or two brave fel- lows, flying like the wind, o'er hill and o'er hol- low, in order to cut off a straggling party of the British, or to break up a nest of niggardly tories, that they should not be named in the same breath. The one taxes patient endurance to the utmost, the other gives free scope to the wild dreams of romance. "You would doubtless oppose many grave ar guments to all this were you present. At any rate, I am willing to take my chance. If you write to our northern friends, do not mention page: 46-47[View Page 46-47] what I suppose you will call this wild freak of mine, as it would increase the anxiety of my mother and sister concerning me. "When do you expect to find opportunity to visit your mother and sister? I forget the name of your uncle with whom they reside. If you have a chance to send me a line, please advise me, for if the fortune of war should throw me into their neighborhood, I shall be welcome. "Had I the least hope of being successful, I would endeavor to persuade you to come, and make one among the band of Marion's merry men. As I have not, I must content myself with assuring you, that whether absent or present, I shall ever, my dear Lionel, remain your affec. tionate and obliged friend, ROLAND FLOYD." Lionel was hurt, as well as a good deal vexed, at the step Roland had taken, not more for his own sake, than on account of his mother and sis- ter. He well knew that his ardent temperament, if he was intrusted with a separate command- which he doubted not that he would be-might urge him on to rashy encounter danger, which would eventuate in defeat, when a little prudent forbearance would have insured success. . But it could not now be prevented, and he was unable to. think of anything better than to write him a letter of advice, that he, however, strongly sus- pected would be read, laid aside, and forgotten. Not long afterward, Roland, who had been de- puted to be the bearer of certain orders, to a gentleman who lived distant some six or seven hours' ride, that it was- not thought advisable to commit to paper, was told by General Marion to come to his room at an early hour in the morn- ing, as he was to take his instructions from his own lips. "I think," said the general, when Roland was about to leave his presence, "that you will fiund no difficulty in finding Captain Morney's residence, but be careful not- to inquire, unless you come across some ,one you know to be on our side." "I don't think," replied Roland, "that there will be the least occasion for me to inquire at all. The description you have given me of the house is zo m;nnte, that I cannot fail to recognize it." "Even if you feel satisfied as to the identity of the house, remember you are not to inquire for Captain Morney, for should you happen to be mistaken, and call at the mansion of a tory instead of a whig, your liberty, if not your life, might be in danger. You must, therefore, be sure not to fail in giving the token correctly, which, if you do, Captain Morney will be certain to understand, as will also the ladies of his fami- ly, in case of his absence. At any rate, as it can be interpreted by no one else, it cannot possibly endanger your safety." "I think there is no danger of my forgetting. I am to say, ' is the falcon to be kept in jesses V ." "Yes, and the answer must be, ' no, he may now go free.' You must go now, that you may reach your place of destination before the heat becomes too oppressive." Roland bade him good morning, and withdrew. Pausing a moment, to acknowledge, by gently patting his horse's neck, th3 neigh expressive of pleasure with which the animal greeted him, he vaulted lightly into the saddle, and was off with the speed of an arrow. A rosy light was already breaking through the misty vapor that hung in the east. He was later than he had intended to be. Those who had not seen Roland Floyd since the day that, with his light fowling-piece on his shoulder, he volunteered his services at the battle of Bunker Hill, would not have known him for the same. Then, rich, golden curls clustered round a brow which had grown broad and smooth in the light of fifteen summersi and his lips, red and fresh as those of the youthful cup-bearer of Jupiter, though expressive of much spirit and enthusiasm, lacked the look of firmness and de- cision which -began now to give them character, and which always lends a charm to manly beau- ty. The lips had now lost a little of their round fullness, and lines, with a light finger, it was true, began to be traced on the broad and slight- ly bronzed forehead. But the golden curls that- used to wreathe that forehead--they'were changed most of all. They were now dark; the gold had become dusky, and they promised, at no very distant period, to be of a coral black. In somne places, the road was merely a cart- path, cut through the woods. Here the sun in the early part of the day could not penetrate, and the dew, which still lay upon the green turf, and sparkled amid the foliage of the trees, imparted to the air a delicious coolness. Whenever Roland entered upon one of these pieces of road, he suffered his horse to slacken his speed, for there was a charm in the dim, old woods, and in the dreamy music of the winds stealing through the boughs, overpowered now and then by the gushing melody of the wild. bird's song, which for the time caused him'to relapse into that indolent' frame of mind that. finds pleasure in indulging in irregular and de- sultory thought. On the whole, however) the. progress he made was as great as if at intervals: he had not suffered his' horse to relax bisspee He had, as nearly as he could judge, accom- plished about two thirds. of tihe distance rto the dwelling of Mr. Morney, when, just. as le was. about to emerge from: a. piece of pine woody, the heard the quick clatter of horses' feet.- As the road diverged abhruptly to the left, he could seoe no one till free of the woods. He! then saw half. a dozen men on horseback, coming towards him,. Whether they were friends or foes, he was un- ,able to tell. If the latter, they would not be. likely to permit him to proceed, and by the time' General Marion could, be apprized of his deten- tion, the instructions be had been deputed to con-, vey to- Mr. Morney would not be available, He rapidly revolved in his mind the chances for making his escape by turning back, or, when arrived within a few panes of them, of suddenly. putting his horse to his speed, and rushing, past them. Neither of these plansipromised to be very. successful, for he could see that at least two of the men appeared: to. be well mounted. He checked his horse to a. walk, and, for a minute remained irresolute. He finally concluded to proceed, and, assuming- an ar as careless, and indifferent as he was capable of,; he went on, still walking his horse. He had purposely, attired himself in the ordinary dress of a citizen, and was without arms, except a pair of, pistols, that were carefully loaded and. placed in the holster. When the horsemen saw the leisurely manner in which he-was advancing towards them, they slackened their pace. As he drewlniar them, he reined his horse to one side of the road; and po- litely saluting them, was passing on. "Stop!" cried one of them; "we wish to have a little talk with you." "That's right, Sergeant Grisley, make him stop. We must make him give an account of himself," said one of the others. "I should be pleased to oblige you, gentle- men," said he, with an air of courtesy less sin- cere than polite; "but I am anxious to find my- self an'd my'horse under cover, before the heat becomes too oppressive." "How far do you expect to have to go first?" inquired Grisley: "As I am unacquainted with the road, having never travelled this way before, I am unable to give you a definite answer." b "May I. ask if you are travelling for pleasure, or in some one's employ?" "C ertainly your may," returned Roland, chaf- ing a little at being catechisedso closely, " though I shall reserve to myself the liberty of answering, your:question or not, as it may best please me." "You are a youth of some spirit, that's a, ,. fact,' said Grisley, "Ead. I'm not certain but ithat you would be a desirable acquisition to our little party. We .are going to spy out the land, and if we, finde anything worth helping ourselves to, we shan't ,e bashful, but take it without be. ing, invited." "You had better not take me with you then; for as I have already told you, I am unacquaint- ed. with ,the country, and shall, consequently, be. of little, advantage. to you, while I should add. one to the number of those destined to share the spoil." "I suppose you would know a silver drinking- cup from, a pewter. one, if you should see it?'" "Possibly.'d "Well,: we know. pretty. near where we can find a; plenty of them, and other things to match, and if you will join ns,;and help search for them, you. shallhave your share." "You are exceedingly generous, sir," return- ed Roland, with: a slight curl of his lip, that he unfortunatelycould not -prevent.; "but you must allow me to-decline your offer." "I suspect you are a whig." "It can, I, think, be of little consequence to you, personally, whether I am a whig or a tory." "It is, though, of a good deal of consequence. I am for King George, and am proud to own it. Shame. and confusion, I say, to all who aint for him. Who knows but that you are the bearer of treasonable papers?" "Better search his pockets and see," said one of Grisley's companions. Grisley and two others sprang from their horses, and at once commenced acting upon the suggestion. His pockets were empty. They found nothing to gratify curiosity, or to reward them in any shape for their trouble. "What if you should swap horses with him, Sergeant Grisley?" said the man who had re. commended searching the pockets. "That's a bright thought, Si," s,:lil Grisley, "His horse is a fine animal, and if in the right hands, will do the king and country good service. Stranger, as I've set my heart on having your horse, you will oblige me by alighting." "It takes two to -he. a bargain," said Roland. ,7 ., i ' page: 48-49[View Page 48-49] "There are times when might is right," said Grisley, "and as we are six to one, I should say that this is one of them. Will you get off of your horse quietly, or shall I come and take you off?" "It wouldn't be much of a lift," remarked one of the men. "Will you get off of your horse or not?" Grisley demanded again. "I will not," was Roland's answer. Grisley said no more, but setting his teeth firmly together, and knitting his brows, he sprang towards him. Roland, without any apparent design, had quietly and by degrees increased the distance between himself and the three, who still remained on their horses, taking care to have his own horse's head in the direction to suit his pur- pose. It was, evidently, Grisley's intention to seize him by the collar, and hurl him to the ground; but, at the moment he extended his hand, a smart cut across his face from Roland's lithe and elastic riding-whip, caused him sudden- ly to recoil, and to nearly lose his balance. "You will have your pay for this," muttered Grisley, as he tried to recover himself. Roland heard not the threat, for almost in the same breath that he inflicted the blow, saying, as he put his horse to his mettle, "Come, mv gentle Oberon, do your best, now," he darted forward, and was away several rods, before either of the men suspected his purpose. There was the report of a pistol, followed by another, and still another, and then the three who were still on their horses, set forward in hot pursuit, the others following, after the slight de- lay it cost them to regain their saddles. Oberon see ned to understand the necessity of obeying his master's behest, so kindly urged, and dashed on, striking sparks from the flinty path at every step. His pursuers called aloud for him to stop, telling him, the longer the chase he led them, the more severe would be his punishment when they did overtake him. But he neither answered nor looked back. During the time they had detained him, he had taken a careful survey of all their horses, and he felt confident that there was not one among the whole equal to his own, either for fleetness or endurance. Even the two that were really rather superior animals, he had found, on close inspection, were inferior to his own. It was not long before the noise made by his pursuers grew fainter, yet he did not venture to check his own speed, even to the value of a sec- ond, by looking round; for he well knew, that if they did overtake them, he could expect no mer- cy at their hands. When, after some time, he ventured to look back, all except one, whom he knew to be Grisley, and who had exchanged his own horse for one of those Roland had thought the best, had fallen far behind. He was still so near, that he deemed it hazardous to slacken his pace, and as his horse did not appear to be at all worried, requiring. neither whip nor spur, but only cheering words, he continued to go on swift- ly as ever. Barely half a mile more was accomplished, when Grisley could urge his horse no farther, at the speed he was then going, and, when Roland again looked hack, he was proceeding slowly in the opposite direction. The morning was now fast wearing away, and had not now a still greater part of the road been- shaded by forest-trees, Roland would have been compelled to seek a place of temporary shelter, and wait for the coming on of evening. CHAPTER XI. A PLE3ASANT SURPRISB. --t go with all convenient speed.--Merchant of Yenice, By this good lights a lass of matclhless mettle! This were a leaguer-lass to leve a soldier.-- To bind his wounds, and kiss his bloody brow, And sing a roundel. aM she helped to arm him Though the rough foemar's drums were beat so nigh, they seemed to'bear the burden.- Old Play. TnoUGHt Roland occasionally passed a house, none answered to the description which had been given him of the one belonging to Mr. Morney. He, at last, began to be afraid that he had missed his way, when, on attaining the summit of a hill of considerable elevation, at some little distance, he saw a dwelling, which he knew nitst'be the one he Was in pursuit of. It was a stone building, two stories high in front, though only one in the rear;' the roof de- scending from the ridge-pole it at regular slope of the same angle of that in front, till it reached within eight or ten feet of the ground. Judging by the moss that covered thed roof; and some architectural peculiarities, it had probably been erected soon after the settlement of that part of the country. An out-house was situated a little back of the. building, and a rustic seat of rude' construction, yet with an appearance quite comfortable and inviting, and half surrounded' with luxuriant shrubbery, which ran the Whole :length and breadth of the house, was placed at the foot of a forest-tree, a number of which threw their grate- ful 'shade over and around the unpretending man- sion. Roland had checked hi b horse, that he might the better satisfy himself that the house corresponded with the description that had been givefthim, and found that not only the main building, but everything. around, even to the rustic bench, agreed with it, in every particular. A man with a loaded cart was passing the house, and he, for some time, being the only hu- nan being he could see, he began to imagine that it was deserted of its inhabitants. Shortly, however, he discovered, standing in front of the out house, two women, apparently engaged in chit chat, remarkably interesting to themselves. He was somewhat encouraged by this, and emerging from behind some trees by the wayside, which, without obstructing his view, had alike screened him froln the sun and the observation of those in and around the house, he again start- ed torward, and soon arrived at the precincts of the grounds by which the residence was sur- rotunded. Leaving his horse, sheltered from the sun by trees and .shrubbery, 'and at liberty to crop the green herbage, he knocled at a back door, after a; vain attempt to obtain admittance at the front entrance. "My knuckles will have to do penance," page: 50-51[View Page 50-51] said he to himself, after a second vigorous appli- cation of them against the half-open door, for there was no knocker, and when he alighted from his horse, he had carelessly tossed his rid- ing-whip upon the greensward. The second summons proved successful, being soon answered by a young mulatto girl, of gen- teel appearance, with a crimson kerchief of some light material, tastefully arranged, resting above her brow, its bright hues harmonizing well with her complexion. She greeted him with a low courtesy, and with the question: "Would you like to see the mistress, sir?" Roland, who merely bowed in reply, was ush- ered into a somewhat spacious and delightfully cool apartment. His patience was not severely tried, for in less than five minutes a middle-aged lady entered the room, whose appearance was such as to strongly prepossess Roland in her favor. Her demeanor, without being haughty, was remarkably digni- fied, and there was something in the expression of her features, which were finely cut, and inclin- ing to the Roman contour, which seemed to say that she was admirably fitted to act, or to suffer, in any cause which she approved, if required to do either by the exigencies of the times. The clear, bright eye, in a particular manner, though there was nothing in it bold or masculine, de. noted courage in its possessor, while its glances, as if endued with some mysterious influnce, seemed capable of inspiring heroism in the hearts of those on whom they fell. Roland rose at her entrance, and while he felt the color mount to his cheek and brow, he pro- nounced the cabalistic words, "Must the falcon be kept in jesses?" "No, he may go free," was the unhesitating response. "I am so fortunate as to have called at the right place, I find," said Roland. "Is Captain Morney at home?" "He is not, though he will be here without fail, this evening, unless prevented by some un- toward event." "That is fortunate, as I am the bearer of a message from General Marion, which should be promptly acted upon; and as the message is ver- bal, and my orders strict not to intrust it to a third person, but to communicate it to him, in order that I may receive his answer, I must be indebted to your hospitality till he returns." "Even were it not so," said the lady, "we should claim you for our guest, at least till to- morrow morning, if your leisure will permit you to remain for so brief a period." Roland intended to make, and as he hoped, did make a courteous and becoming reply to this polite invitation to protract his stay, though he was not exactly clear in his own mind respecting the matter, as just at that moment something took place that caused his thoughts to wander from the subject. This was nothing more nor less than the sudden entrance of a maiden, appar- ently about sixteen. She was evidently ignorant of his presence, at the time of her entrance, for when she had advanced two or three steps into the apartment, she stopped abruptly, and would have turned back, had not the lady addressed her, saying, with a smile: "You need not go- remain with us." At first, Roland was conscious of nothing, ex- cept of the entrance of what appeared to him a bright vision. When he had recovered himself a little, he saw that she was of real flesh and blood, slightly below the medium height; with a figure sufficiently full to indicate perfect health, while at the same time it was exquisitely grace- ful. Her hands and arms, in a particular man- ner the latter, according to the fashion of the times, being bare to the elbows, except a fall of snowy'lace, were, in color and shape, models of beauty. A shower of ringlets, bright as if "dipt in sunset"--a blue ribbon restraining their too ex- uberant flow-clustered round a brow white and pure as the water-lily, and fell like a golden veil round her face, heightening its delicate and vary- ing bloom. 'It took Roland only a few seconds to observe all this, while at the same time he had succeeded in .getting a little the better of his bewilderment, when the lady said: "This is my daughter-her name is Ruth. My own name, too, is Ruth-Ruth Ainsworth, as I suppose you are aware." "Ainsworth?" -repeated Roland. "I most certainly was not aware of it, and I hope you will pardon my neglect-rudeness, perhaps I should say-in not informing you of my own name. I believe you have, through a friendof mine, heard of Roland Floyd." "I have indeed," said Mrs. Ainsworth, with warmth, and offering him her hand. "My son never writes to me without mentioning your name -often in terms of high praise." "Higher than I deserve, I am afraid. I am very grateful, however, for his kihd remem. brance." "I had the impression that:you were togeth- er," said Mrs. Ainsworth. "We were together, till within a short time since," said Roland, evincing some embarrass- ment. Mrs. Ainsworth noticed this, and refrained from asking any questions': "The truth is," said Roland, after remaining silent a minute or- two, "I heard so much said of General Marion, that I could not rest satisfied till I had obtained leave to join 'him. I regret being deprived of the society of your son, but in every other respect I am better suited than before." "I had hoped that Lionel would have been able to make us a short visit, ere this," said Mrs. Ainsworth. "He has just sent us word that we must not expect him under several weeks." "Mr. Morney, I believe, is your brother?" "He is." "I had heard Lionel mention the name of his uncle, but it had entirely escaped - my memory; hence, I had no suspicion that the message with which I was entrusted would introduce me to the presence of those I have long wished to be- come acquainted with." "The wish has been reciprocated on our part, I assure you," said Mrs. Ainsworth. "The last time we were speaking of Lionel's contem- plated visit, my brother remarked, that he hoped X he would bring his ,young friend with him." Roland thought he should like very well to know if Ruth .participated in the wish, which ( caused him to steal a glance at her, where, in -a remote coraerof the room,she sat flirting a tiffany f fan, glittering with spangles, with a gravity suit- i ed to the importance of the employment. Though she certainly was not looking directly 1 towards him, at the time he tufted his eyes on, a her, her heightening color, and an adroit more- s ment of her fan, by which she entirely hid her face, might be interpreted as signs of her having I an inkling of his momentary regard. Perhaps a Mts. Ainsworth noticed the look, for she imme- E diately remarked: "Though you see 'my daughter and me so idle ( now, during the heat of the' day, we are very in- I dustrious all'the morning, arid I regret -to be c obliged to lose,as much time as we do. We are at present busy spinning yarn, which is to be a woven into cloth to make garments for those s soldiers who -may need them most, whether at b the north -or south, and though Ruth is byno means a'tyr .at playing on the harp, she is 'cr- i tainly a much greater adept at turning the spin- ning-wheel," Here was an opportunity for Roland to make a very gallant speech, and he did go so far as to frame one in his mind, though somehow, when he came to offer it, instead of saying how happy, and, how much honored he should feel, were he ' 9ermitted to wear garments, made by such fair hands, he merely remarked, ,that undoubtedly they would by their industry prevent much suffering. Mrs. Ainsworth now left 'the room, and Ro- land tried in vain to think of something to say, which might be interesting to the young girl, who still had nothing to busy herself with except her fan. A look of peculiar archness that lurked in her large, hazel eyes, showed that she noticed his awkward perplexity and guessed its cause; yet, though words by the dozen were ready to come trippingly from her tongue, actuated by a slightly mischief-loving spirit, she appeared to be in no haste to come to his relief. All at once his eye fell on aharp, that stood leaning against the wall, and he at once seized upon it as a theme for conversation. "Your mother," said he, " mentioned that you played upon the harp. It is a very ladylike ac- complishment." Ruth probably thought this remark needed no answer, other than a slight bow. But Roland cleared his throat and proceeded: "It looks like an instrument of some anti- quity," said he. "Was it made in England?" "I am unable to tell," she replied. "It was formerly in the possession of a Scottish lady, who presented, it to my grandmother when she was about to come to this country. It was even 'then, I am told, an ancient instrument. Many a hand is dust Inow that once used to sweep its strings." Roland 'looked at her with some surprise, for 'her "' mirth-beaming smiles " -had given place to a look of sadness, which accorded well with the 'accents in which were spoken these last words. In a subdued voice -he repeated a line or two from Ossian: "'Thou hast heard the music of departed bards in the dream of thy rest, when sleep fell on thy eyes, at the murmur of Moruth." "The hunter shall come forth in the morning, and the voice of my harp shall not be -heard,"' said Ruth, qudtag a few words from the same bard. "I trut I shall have the pleasure'of "hearing it this evening," -aid Roland. page: 52-53[View Page 52-53] "You shall hear me play, if it be your wish, though if you have a critical ear, it is by no means certain that it will afford you pleasure." "As I have listened to little music except that of the drum and fife, for the last five or six years, you may judge how much of a musical connois- seur I am. I should think you were fortunate in knowing how to play on the harp, for I imag- ine it is rather lonely here." "Formerly it was-it is much less so now." "Why?" "Because we of late hlave visits from the red- coats or the tories, more frequently than we did formerly." "And the whigs-do not they visit you?" "Yes, but their visits afford us little or no ex- citement. When a British officer and twenty or thirty soldiers, or a party of tories make us a call, and search every cranny and chest, cupboard and closet, not forgetting the cellar and the attic, for plate and other valuables, it gives us a fine opportunity to exercise our wits. Once, how- ever, I came near dying with heat, from playing the invalid, and reclining in a large easy-chair, with a dozen silver plates under the cushion. And what was worse than all, I was almost suffocated with suppressed laughter, at seeing Nessy, our mulatto girl, who, when sie saw the enemy coming, put a large silver basin on her head, and though she had concealed it very inge- niously, by winding her kerchief round it, tur- ban-fashion, she had to walk as upright, and hold her neck as stiff as a grenadier, to keep it from slipping off." "That makes me think of the barber's basin, spoken of in Don Quixote, which the knight of La Mancha mistook for a helmet. I should think you would have some safe place where you could conceal your plate and other articles of value." "We do have; but we had some distinguish- ed guests to dine the day before, and so disin- terred the plates I spoke of, and a few other articles. As they needed a little furbishing, they were not returned to their place of con- cealment that night, and the next morning the redcoats were upon us so suddenly, we were obliged to hide them the best way we could. The plates were put under the cushion-the basin on Ncssy's head, and a dozen spoons into a pillow- case mother happened to be mlnringfand which she had to treat as gingerly as if they had been made of glass, to keep them from jingling. Once they did make an unlucky clash, and the leader's ears, which naturally lapped a little, at once assumed the perpendicular." "And what was the consequence?" "Priam, the butler, came to the rescue. ' Mas. sa's spurs,' said he, 'are ob de real silber, or dey nebber would jingle so.' The remark flat- tered the officer's vanity and quieted his suspic- ion, and as nothing could be found of a portable size, valuable enough to carry off, he contented himself with ordering breakfast of ham and eggs, and hot buckwheat cakes." "And was the order obeyed?" "To be sure it was, and glad to come off so. Mother, giving the precious pillow-case into my charge, with a request, if I felt able, to sew a few stitches, superintended its preparation. It prov- ed a wonderful mollifier-that breakfast did. From being savage as bears, at not being able to find any plunder that suited them, after they had finished their meal, they were as good natured as so many kittens. The leader of the party even went so far as to hint that he should use his influence to prevent our receiving similar visits from others." "If his influence will prove sufficient to ex- empt you from any more such, you may con- sider your ham, eggs and buckwheat cakes well bestowed." "Very true; but we count on no such exemp- tion, inasmuch as his influence, were he disposed to use it in -our favor, would not, in all proba- bility, have the least weight. He is merely per- mitted to head a marauding party, and is, with- out doubt, held in light estimation by the supe- rior officers, and in very little better, by the men placed temporarily under his command. It is with more reluctance than I can express, that we give a party of the enemy a single meal, for we cannot help thinking how many there are on our own side suffering from want. It is hard indeed, to be compelled to defraud our defenders in or. der to minister to the comfort of those who op- press us." "Do you know that I was much struck by something your mother mentioned i" "What do you allude to?" "The manner in which she said that she and her daughter spend their mornings." "You mean what she told you about our spin- ning?" 1"Yes." "How did it strike you?-as being an em- ployment either remarkable or unsuitable?" "No, it was nothing of that kind. It struck me, because it shows such true devotion to the cause, and in such a quiet, unpresuming way. In short, it seems to me like true heroism." "Do you think so? It never presented itself to me in such a light. I pity the sufferings of the poor soldiers, and to promote their comfort, I am willing to devote the time, that, under different circumstances, might be given to more congenial employment. If there be any praise due, it is to my mother-not to me. I derive all my courage and devotion from her. If there was ever an individual in the world, animated with the true spirit of patriotism, it is my mother. I know of no danger she would not be willing to encounter-no self-sacrifice that she would shrink from, if she thought it would benefit the cause of freedom. I have read of the Roman matrons, and do'not believe, that one among them all, was ever possessed of a more truly no- ble spirit." The feeling and enthusiasm with which Ruth spoke, caused her countenance to light up,while, at the same time, bright tears glistened in her large, hazel eyes. Her filial ardor touched a chord in Roland's breast, and caused his own eyes, which were of that kind (' which melted in love, and kindled in war," to grow somewhat misty. "Your modesty and self distrust," said Roland, assiduously brushing his hair from his forehead, to conceal his emotion, "by causing you to under- rate the value of your services, and to lightly es- timate the sacrifices which they involve, only go to show that you are of the same spirit, and are worthy to be the daughter of such a mother." "I am afraid that there is more flattery than truth in what you say; yet an unmerited compli- ment may sometimes have the effect to awaken an ambition to deserve it." "You will allow me to say, that I had not the least intention to flatter-nothing could have been farther from my thoughts." "' That only shows that you give me credit for being somewhat of a martyr, when in good sooth I am as happy and merry,and, I might add-not I to keep back any part of the truth-as heedless a lass as ever breathed the air of our Arcadian clime." "Arcadian, do you say?" '"Yes. Does the expression surprise you? It always appeared to me, that this part of the Car- I olinas, where my uncle has chosen his place of residence, must far surpass the Arcadia the poets love to celebrate. A gentleman from France, 4 who dined here not long since, compared it to the Languedoc of his own country; and my mother, who, as you are aware, has spent most F of her days in New England, says, that even there the air is not purer-the streams more sparkling, or the hills more picturesque, while the luxuriance of our forest-tree foliage, and our floral treasures, either for profusion or gorgeous beauty, are not to be named in the same day. 'As for the New England winters, I cannot help regretting them, cold as they are." "Then you remember them." "Yes, I was nine or ten years old when I came to the south. I shall never forget them. Noth- ing could be more comfortable and more cheer- ful than the long winter evenings, when the win- dow-curtains were drawn close, and a bright wood fire was blazing in the large fireplace." Dinner being now announced, Ruth conducted Roland to the dining-room, where Mrs. Ains- worth was awaiting them. "If our dinner had not been nearly ready," said she, addressing Roland, "I should at once have offered you some refreshment after your long ride. I hope the time has not seemed long to you." - "Contrary from that--it has seemed very short. It cannot be more than half an hour since I arrived." "A little more than that," she replied.. f did not know but that your anxiety for my broth- er's return might cause the time to drag heavily." "To confess the truth," said Roland, slightly coloring, "you left me with such good company, that I neither thought of him nor tho message. I have heard my friend Lionel speak so frequent- ly of his sister, that after we once commenced a conversation, I felt as if I had always been ac- quainted with her." " It is scarcely necessary for me to say," said Ruth, " that your feelings in this respect were reciprocated; for now that I have time to reflect a little, I believe I must have nearly overwhelmed you with words, that I am sure I should not have ventured to do, had you seemed at all like a stranger." "I expect every day, when the inhabitants of our poultry-yard will fall a prey to some corn. pany of marauders," said Mrs. Ainsworth, as she helped Roland to the wing of a chicken. I can hardly imagine how they have escaped as long as they have." "After they have seized upon them, if they don't order them to be dressed and served up in page: 54-55[View Page 54-55] this very room, we may consider ourselves fortu- nate," said Rnth. "And more fortunate still, if some of them do not, one day, drive us from our home," said Mrs. Ainsworth. "O mother, they would not do that." "They have driven others from their homes, my daughter, and we can hardly hope to be ex- ctnpted. Under the name of British subjects, they act the part of so many brigands." "This state of things cannot last much longer," said Roland, ".if the judgment of those older and more experienced than I am, can be depended on.. General Greene has expressed his determi- nation to recover South Carolina, or die in the attempt, and the heroic efforts of Marion, Sum- ter, and Lee, will tend to bring about the same result." "The want of all kind of supplies," said Mrs. Ainsworth, " is what perplexes and renders nu- gatory the exertions and best laid plans of our officers. The men under them, when suffering from hunger, cannot, at all times, be expected to feel hopeful and courageous; nor is it to be won- dered at that some are tempted to renounce any farther attempt to win a cause, which seems to them utterly hopeless." - Just at that moment some one near the house was heard singing a little ditty, so much in the spirit of what they had been conversing about, that it seemed as if the performer must have overheard what they had been saying, and pur- posely adapted his song to the subject.' Ruth placed her finger on her lips, as a signal of si- lence, and the windows being open, they could distinctly hear the words of the stanza, which the individual without was singing. "Carolina south and north, IB filled with pain and woe; The toies take their neighbors' worth, And away a whig must go." Roland, who sat facing,one of the windows, saw that the singer had entered the grounds near the house which were enclosed with shrubbery. Looking at him attentively for a moment, he ex- claimed: "Mike Larkin, as I live! I thought he was in New England. What can have brought him hither V." "The name sounds familiar to me," said Mrs. Ainsworth. "I Your son, without doubt, has mentioned him in some of his letters," remarked Roland. Yes," said Ruth, "Lionel alluded to him in f the first letter he wrote us after the battle o Bunker Hill. He said he was so badly wounded that he would always be lame, and see, he who has just treated us to one of our rustic songs, uses a staff to assist his steps." "A pretty stout one, too," said Roland, "which might, if occasion required, answer all the purposes of a cudgel." "He is going to call," said'Ruth." "I hope so," remarked Mrs. Ainsworth. "He must be very-weary from walking in the heat of the day, and stand in great need of refresh- ment ;" and rising, she went to the door .herself, and invited him to come in. "Is Mr. Morney at home?" asked Mike, hes- itating to comply with the invitation. "He is not." "But this is his house' " "It is; and is always open to the weary trav- eller, who comes as a friend. You are tired. Stand no longer at the door, but come in." "Thank you, ma'am, I shall be very glad to; but I felt a little shy, before I found out sartain 'twas Mr. Morney's house, for if I should get into a nest of tories, I reckon 'twould go hard with me." "I will undertake to be your guarantee that no harm shall befall you, which it is in the power of those belonging to the house to avert," said Roland, stepping towards the door. "You here, Sergeant Floyd?" said Mike, a flush of pleasure brightening his sunburnt coun tenance. "I never was so glad, many times be- fore in my life, and I must shake hands with you, if it is only for the sake of that smile, which looks so much like Miss Euphie's." "And for the sake of my own individual self, I hope," said Roland, giving him his hand. "I have no wish to survive the day when I shall no longer feel it to be a pleasure to shake hands with one who did good service at the battle of Bunker Hill, much more with one who brought away honorable marks with him, that he will carry to his grave." "That Major Dillman was partly the means of making a true whig of me. I was a little whiffling before I ha4 a chance to see how mean he was. Arter that, I was as firm as a rock. And then there was Miss Euphie and Hannah Ellsworth-they were enough to make one think the rebels were right, they took such good care of me when I wasn't able to do anything. Why, either of 'em would go without a meal of victuals 'any time for the sake of feeding a poor sqldier, or would sit up till midnight to make clothes for him." "Did you see my mother and sister, after Li- onel and I left for the south?"Roland at last found opportunity to inquire. "No, I started right off myself, as soon as I heard that you and he had gone. The last time I saw Miss Euphie, she gave me this doublet I have on. She made it on purpose for me, she said, and for that reason I value it higher than one made of silk or velvet, and trimmed with gold lace, if some folks had given it to me." They had so nearly finished their meal at'the arrival of Mike, that they had no disposition to resume their places at the table, and he was in- vited to take a seat at the still well-furnished board. Before accepting the invitation, he took. Roland aside-,and whispered a few words to him. "I've something I want to tell," said he, "only I'm afraid 'twill frighten the ladies more than if Mr. Morney was at home. Do you think it will?" "I can judge better when I have heard what it is," returned Roland. "Well, it's something about what the redcoats and tories have threatened to do, and I came on purpose to let Mr. Morney know. Are these la- dies his wife and daughter?" "No-cannot you guess who the elder lady is by her looks?" "Why, 'tis Cap'n Ainsworth's mother, aint it 4 Strange I didn't think of it before. There's something about her mouth exactly like his. It's a proud look, and it aint a proud look neither. It don't make her look scorney, or as if she felt too good to speak to a poor fellow like me, but as if she had courage enough to be a gineral, in case of need. I don't think 'twill make her afear- ed, if I do tell, nor the young lady, neither; for though she's as delicate as roses and lilies, and her hair and eyes are so bright it kind o' dazzles my eyes to look at her, she looks as brave as a lion." Mrs. Ainsworth, who had overheard enough that Mike said to comprehend that he had-some- thing to communicate that he thought would alarm them, now interposed. "If we are threatened with danger," said she, "the sooner we know its nature, the better." "I thought, ma'am," said he, "that maybe you wouldn't be so much scared and flurried like, if I waited till Cap'n Morney come home. So I thought I would ask the opinion of Ser- geant Floyd as to what was best to do." "You need not be afraid," said she, smiling, ' so take your place at the table, and while you eat your dinner, tell us all about it." "You make me think of Mrs. Floyd, the-sor- geant's mother here. She's al'ays as calm as a clock, and pleasant as a summer's morning, let what will happen. Well, yesterday, about noon, the sun beat down terrible hot, and I was glad enough when I came to a spring where I could quench my thirst. Arter drinking from a cup made out of an oak leaf, I crept in behind some bushes, that grew close to the edge of a piece of woods, to take a nap, and it want many minutes, before I was fast asleep. How long I'd slept, I don't know; but all at once I was waked up by the clattering of horses' feet. I peeped through the bushes and saw six or seven mnen on horseback, coming at a full gallop. When they got rigltt against the spring, they jump .d off of their horses, which they let drink, artcr they'd dipped up some waterto mix with some whiskey for themselves. They were mighty jovial, arter they'd taken two or three good drinks of the whiskey, and talked and laughed a good deal. At last they began to brag about what good pick- ings they found' lately. Gold and silver, and plate, and ladies' jewels, were thick as blackber- ries, according to their tell. They found plenty of other things too, they said. At one house, they boasted how they tore up the floor, and found a good lot of cotton cloth, and, hid away in other places, they came across ten or a dozen bushels of meal, which they put into the bed- ticks, arter they had emptied 'em, and carried 'em all off. One of 'em said they shouldn't have to drink whiskey much longer, for he knew where there was a plenty of good wine, which they might have if they'd take the trouble to go arter it. "'Well, sergeant,' said one of 'em, arter they'd got pretty well through telling their fa- mous exploits, ' where do you mean to go next .' "I I've some thoughts of taking a ride over to Morney's,' said he. "'You mean the stone house we passed a while ago 'V said one of 'em. "Yes,' he answered. ' I'm told we shall find as good pickings there as we did up to old Dame Harrowhy's- plantation, and she, you know, was as rich as a Jew's eye, before we honored her with a visit, but she's a plucked pigeon now- that's a fact.' "'Well, my advice is,' said another of the men, ' to let Morney rest a day or two. There's page: 56-57[View Page 56-57] good plunder at a place up above here, in the provision line, and we can take Morney's plate, and-the nice linen damask they say is hoarded up, and the ladies' jewels, when we come back. They'll be jest as good then as they are now- wont spoil by keeping, you know.' "' Come to think of it, I reckon that will be the best way,' said the sergeant. ' It's Tuesday to-day, and Thursday morning we shall be ready to be down upon 'em.' "He then made use of a great many oaths, and said if the family refused to tell where the things were, he shouldn't mind it much if one of his men put a pistol-ball through the head of one of 'em, jest to let the rest see they want go- ing to be trifled with. Then they all laughed merrily, and said they shouldn't want no better fan." "Thursday morning they thought they should be here?" said Mrs. Ainsworth. "Yes, ma'am, that's what'they said." "That will be to-morrow. As well then as later. If they find the plate, or the linen damask they spoke of, they will be more successful than I think they will." "Yet there will be a great many things," said Ruth, " that it will be very inconvenient for us to do without, and which it will be impossible for us to conceal." "Should Sir. Miorney return to night," said Roland, " there will be three of us to defend the house, if our friend Mike will be so good as to remain, without including the servants." ( Or my mother and myself," said Ruth; " but I suppose you consider us to be nought," pout- ing her red lips a little, and trying to assume an offended air. "We shall need Mrs. Ainsworth for counsel, if not for action," said he. "I thank you for your good opinion of my mother'i wisdom," said Ruth--"an opinion which shows that you are not altogether desti- tute of discretion yourself; but your allowing her to be received into your councils, will not make me the less of a nonentity." "Far from being a nonentity," said Roland, falling into the same tone of pleasantry she her- self had assumed, " your presence, as well as your mother's, will inspire with courage those who take an active part in conducting the defence." "You never said a truer word than that, ser- geant," said Mike. "If the pretty mulatto girl--Nessy, I think you called her-could only have her head defend- ed with the same unique helmet, that on one oc- casion gave such a spur to your risibility, she might do good service by watching through some loop-hole the movements of the enemy, and reporting accordingly," said Roland. "You forget," said Ruth, "that if put on ser- vice like that, the helmet would ncd a visor. Nessy's bright eyes would be a good mark for the besiegers, and might tempt some one of them to mako an example of her by shooting her through the head, to show the rest of us they were not going to be trifled with! Now Nessy's patriotism is undoubted, yet she can hardly be expected to carry it to such an extent as that." "And cannot Priam's wit, if not his wisdom, be brought into requisition?" asked Roland. "! Ah, you are thinking about the way he flat- tered the gallant officer's vanity,. about his spurs ringing as if ' dey were ob de real silber.' Well, it certainly shows, that if he cannot pretend to be a sage, he has a genius for strategy, and there is no knowing but that he may do good service by the exercise of his gift." They were now suddenly interrupted in their playful discussion by the sound of a horse swiftly advancing. Ruth started, and her color height- ened; for, not observing that, the sound indicated the approach of only a single horse, her first thought was that the ruffians had anticipated their contemplated visit. The next moment she uttered an exclamation of joy. Mr. Morney, her uncle, had arrived. CHAPTER XII. A TREACHEROUS GUEST. Aut.--If I had a mind to be honest, I see fortune would not suffer me; she drops booties into my mouth. I am courted now with a double occasion; gold and a means to do the prince, my master good i which, who knows how, may turn back to my advancement.-Winter's Tate. "You were never more truly welcome than at this moment," said Mrs. Ainsworth, meeting her brother at the door. "Your presence is much needed on several accounts." "And I am glad to be home once more," said Mr. Morney, " though had I not heard news that caused me to hurry, I should not have been here till late this evening."' Mrs. Ainsworth now introduced Roland Floyd to him, nor did she forget to tell him who Mike Larkin was, and that he had come to bring them tidings that they might turn to good account. "The letters of my nephew have made me and allof us familiar with your name," said Mr. Morney, addressing Rolaud, "and it gives me much pleasure to have an opportunity to make your acquaintance." "A pleasure, that, while it does me honor, give me leave to say,-is fully reciprocated. I was ig- norant, however, till after my arrival, that it was to the uncle of my friend Lionel that General Marion had entrusted me with a message.' "When I last saw the general, it was agreed between us, that if he needed, my co-operation, he should let me know by a special messenger, who was also to be the bearer of a -verbal token, lest some imposition should be practised, as has been the case in several instances." "A token, that, I was told, the ladies of the household would understand, if you should chance to be absent. I therefore repeated it when introduced to the presence of Mrs. Ains- worth, and was instantly welcomed." "The phrase was selected," said Mr. Morney, "as being one that would -stand, no chance of being adopted or understood by any one else. When I was a score of years younger than I am now, I dabbled a little in falconry, and recalling that circumstance suggested it to my mind." "I thought falconry a sport long since out of. date-at least in England," said Roland. "And so it is, and was then. .It'gradually. grew into disuse, as the country was more and more cut up with hedges 'and fences; but I im- agined it might be revived with advantage, where there was such free and ample space as there was here." "And how did you succeed?" "I did not give it a fair trial. As I could not persuade any one to enter into my project, I soon abandoned it." "O uncle," said Ruth, "why didn't you per- severe? I should be so delighted to follow the chase, with a falcon on my wrist-and I would teach him to fly at so high a lure." "There is something fascinating in the sport, without doubt, my fair niece, but we have fallen on times when graver and more momentous af. fairs demand our time and attention." !"Have you dined?" asked Mrs. Ainsworth, addressing her brother. page: 58-59[View Page 58-59] !"Yes, I called at our friend Barclay's, just to look at my boys, and found the family at the table." "How did you find them? George and Alfred, I mean." "Well, as respects their health; I never saw them look better. Their tutor, however, com- plains that they begin to take more interest in warlike exploits than in Greek and Latin, which reminds me that their father should be influenced by their example, and show more eagerness to ascertain what has cost our young friend so long a ride. As it is confidential," said he, rising, and addressing Roland, "we will seek a place of greater privacy." Roland followed him to a small apartment, fitted up as a library. "I could formerly spend a few hours every day with these silent friends," said Mr. Morney, handing Roland a chair, and taking one himself; "but now, as far as I am concerned, they remain undisturbed on their shelves." "My father," said Roland, " collected a very valuable though not extensive library, when he was alive; but when Charlestown was burnt by order of General Gage, it was destroyed." A- fate mine may be destined to share. The only chance it has to escape, is its utter worth- lessness in the estimation of the banditti, who make it a daily busin'ess to rob, murder, and lay waste the country. And now, my young friend, what says General Marion 'r" "He commissioned me to inform you, that he has received information that a party of the British, from twenty-five to thirty, all told, will be sent out by Colonel Tarleton io cut off a small party of our men-a dozen or so, in the whole-who have been somewhat successful in collecting supplies for General Greene." "And he wishes me to interrupt the party of the British?" "He does. They will pass one of those swamps, impervious to them, but where, General Marion says, you will be perfectly at home, and where, he sass, a dozen rifles will be amply sufficient for your purpose. The only question is, he says, whether that number can be obtained." "That partly depends on how much timne I have. What route will the British take?" Roland took a piece of paper, that he had concealed between the outside and lining of his boat sleeve, and handed it to Mr. Morney. "I have there traced a few lines," said he, "that I imagined, even if they fell into wrong hands, would be unintelligible, but which, I be- lieve, I can explain so that you will be able to understand the particular locality intended to be marked out. I was, of course, indebted to the. description given me by General Marion, and when I submitted it to his inspection, he was so good as to point out such alterations as he deemed necessary." The rude and slight delineation, with a few words of explanation from Roland, were at once clearly comprehended by Mr. Morney, who was perfectly familiar with that region to the extent of hundreds of miles. "And now," said Mr. Morney, " we must see how much of a fortress we can make of our house here, for a hint my sister gave me, relative to the intelligence brought by Mike Larkin, con- vinces me that something I heard myself, and which hastened my return,was no idle rumor, and we must think ourselves well off, if instead of a half dozen, we do not have twice or even three times that number, down upon us." Mr. Morney and Roland now left the library, and all were soon busily employed. The doors, except one which was left for present egress and ingress, were strongly barricaded, and every- thing in readiness to secure that, at a moment's warning. Every spare cushion and mattress in the house were used to secure the windows, a window in the dining-room alone being left un- darkened, so that artificial light, in every other apartment was as necessary as if it had been midnight. The fortifications being completed, arms and ammunition were the next things to be thought of. Three rifles, a fowling-piece and a pair of pistols were brought forward, in addi. tion to which Roland produced his pistols. A sword and two or three cutlasses also were prov- identially placed with the other arms by Priam, the hunter, who by the affectionate manner in which he eyed the sword, might have been pre- sumed to entertain serious thoughts of gracing his own person by wearing the well burnished weapon, when came the " tug of war," By the time these arrangements were finished, it was sunset, and after a slight evening meal, conversation and music were enjoyed, with ap- parently as much zest as if no danger was im- pending. Roland did not forget to remind Ruth of her promise to play on the harp. "You must remember," said she, "what my mother told you-that the spinning-wheel, not the harp, is the instrument on which I most ex- eel. Not long ago, I versified, without adhering very closely to the original, perhaps, a few lines from Ossian, so as to suit a favorite air. Shall I sing and play that, or would you prefer some- thing livelier ." This was addressed to Roland, who replied: "The versification, by all means." "1 have named it 'The Wind-swept Harp,"' said she, " and as I find by your quotation from Ossian, this morning, that you are familiar with his poems, you will readily recall to mind that it was the belief of the Celtic nations, that when the wind swept over the strings of the harp, awaking its melody, that their friends, who had gone forth to battle, had fallen." "Yes, I remember it well," was Roland's an- swer. "When I was about twelve or thirteen years old, and should have been studying math- ematics, I used to steal away to my father's library, and pore over Ossian and a few other favorite volumes. I could repeat more than two-thirds of them by heart." After a short prelude, Ruth began: "Dark spirit of the mountain, Thy voice is on the gale- Low rustling through my lonely halls, Thou com'st with thy midnight wail. O! wildly sweet and mournful, As thou passed with thy dark wing, The music of the harp arose, From every slumbering string. But not with notes inspiring) Like those with gifted hand, The bard strikes forth from every chord, To cheer the warlike band, Nor the deep and thrilling numbers, He wakes with soul of flame, Above the heroes narrow house,- Who passed with all his fame. Nor tones, mild, sweet, and pensive, Waked 'nea+h the evening star, To soothe the maid her warrior left, To join the pomp of war. No, melancholy music! I well thy warning know: The voice of death is in each note- My heroes! ye are low. Yet ye shall not lie forgotten, On the ruddy battle-plain,- From the harp's wild strings a hundred bards Shall sweep the lofty strain. Your deeds of might and glory, A thrilling voice shall find, That will your wandering spirits give To the free and deep-toned wind." Mike Larkin, who had unconsciously kept time to the song with both. head and foot, 'while tears coursed down his sunburnt cheeks, when the music ceased, gave a start and a sigh, as if re- leased from the spell of an enchanter, and hastily wiped away the tears with a corner of his dou- blet. "Did the song suit you, Mike?" inquired Mr. Morney. "Yes, cap'n, it did. I have tnany and many a time been waked up at daybreak with the sing- ing of birds, when I slept in the woods, and thought that nothing on this airth could beat it -that and the rustling of the fresh morning wind, filling up the spaces between-but when the young lady was singing, I thought if I should ever fall in battle, how kind o' mourn- ful and pleasant 'twould be, to have some one that looked like her, come and sit by my grave, and sing with such a sweet voice. But when poor Mike Larkin is gone, there will be no one to care. He hasn't a single relation on the face of the airth." "But you have friends, Mike, if you have no relations," said Mrs. Ainsworth. '"Roland Floyd is a friend to you-so is my son." "Yes, ma'am, I know they are, and there's nothing I could do for the sake of either, which I shouldn't think a privilege." "Come, Ruth," said her uncle, "you have sung us rather a mournful ditty, and I think it will be nothing -more than-fair for you to give us something livelier." "No, we shan't consent to be put off with one song," said Roland, while rising, and assuming a heroic air, which, it must be confessed, was not illy suited to his style of countenance and general personal appearance, he reiterated his own and Mr. Morney's request,.in the language of his favorite bard: "' Sing on, sweet voice, for thou art pleasant, and carriest away my night with joy!"' To this Ruth immediately responded: "'-But it is a joy covering a sigh, that dwells in every breast.' Seriously, to speak in plain prose, though I believe I am not deficient in courage, the idea of receiving a visit from a par- cel of desperadoes, such as we expect in the morning, inspires me with a dread that I strive in vain to banish. it haunts me like my own shadow." "That will all vanish," said her uncle, " when they make their appearance. To tell the truth, my niece has'courage and spirit enough to make page: 60-61[View Page 60-61] as good a soldier as ever fought for liberty. On horseback she is as fearless as I am. You should see her ride, Roland. Come, Ruth, now for that song you were to give us, and then, if we wish to prolong the evening, we will claim the soldier's privilege, and fight o'er again some of our battles." Leaving Ruth and her auditors to the enjoy- ment of the lively air she selected for their mu- tual entertainment,we will take a4ook into a back apartment, where the household servants were assembled, amusing themselves in a different way, though quite as much to their own satisfac- tion. While a young mulatto, who was suspected of being partial to Nessy, and who, though his name was Jack, had some years previously re- ceived the cognomen of Hotspur, was giving to his delighted listeners an account of some of his adventures and "hairbreadth 'scapes," when, as the personal attendant of Mr. Morney, he was present at the ambuscade, or foray, some one was heard rapping against the door, which, as has already been mentioned, was left unbarricaded, though it was fastened on the inside. Hotspur was cut short in his eloquent and interesting narrative, and theyall assumed the attitude of listening. In a few moments the rapping was repeated a little quicker and sharper than at first. "Who be dar V" said Priam. "A friend," was answered by the one without. "An' what be dat frin's name?" asked Priam. "John Bicklestaff, though I'm commonly call- ed Honest John." "Don't know noffin' about Honest John," said Priam. "Well, I do," said Hotspur, jumping up, and advancing towards the door. "Did you ever see him?" said Nessy. "No, but I've heard of him often enough. He's a pedler." "Is that the one?" said Nessy. "I've heard of John Bicklestaff, the pedler. O, how I should like to see the inside of his pack." "Well, you can see the inside of it," said Hotspur. "Come, aint you going to let me in?" said John Bicklestaff. "I want to show the women folks the fine things I've got in my pack." "There, 'tis the pedler," said Nessy. " Come, Hotspur, undo the door, and let him come in." "Better n6t-dat's my advice," said Priam, with a sagacious shake of the head. "An' mine, too," said Dinah, who was the i wife of Priam. 1 "Who's afraid of John Bicklestaff " said Hotspur. "Nessy wants to see what he's got in r his pack, and I want to buy a few trifles for my : own use." : "I s'pose dat half crown massa gib you tother f day, will burn a hole in your pocket, if you keep him much longer," said Priam. Hotspur, who was engaged in unfastening the door, did not-fortunately, perhaps, for its author - -hear this sarcastic allusion to the difficulty he had in retaining those slight perquisites that t sometimes fell to his share. Having unfastened the door, Hotspur threw it wide open, and a Ishort, thickset man;,with a huge pack on his back, entered. Placing his pack on the floor, he seated himself in a chair, politely handed him by Nessy. "You are a well-mannered lass," said the pedler, "and I will show you my wares, even if I didn't expect to sell you a farthing's worth;" and without saying more, he undid his pack, and commenced displaying its contents. "Here's a fan," said he, addressing Nessy, "with the picture of a shepherd and a shepherd- ess tending their flock." "O, this is elegant," said Nessy, taking the fan, and examining it. "Look, Hotspur, and see what a beautiful red gown the shepherdess has on, and the shepherd's doublet-what an elegant yellow." "Better buy it," said the pedler. "It's the mate to one I sold General Washington's lady." On hearing this, the eyes of those who had' gathered round Honest John dilated with aston- ishment, and even the staid Dinah confessed she had a hankering after the fan. But their atten- tion was soon diverted from the fan by a variety of showy trinkets, that the pedlern spread out be- fore them, among which were ear rings, finger- rings, bracelets, necklaces and hair-pins, that were of little intrinsic value. When he imagined that they had pretty well gratified their curiosity by looking at these, he drew a small casket from his pack, and opening it, took thence one or two of the articles of jewelry that it contained, and held them in such a manner as to cause them to throw out brilliant sparkles in the lamplight. "I don't believe," said he, "that the lady of the house has anything more magnificent than this necklace, and this pair of ear-rings." At tiis, Dinah, who had a very excellent idea of whatever belonged to her mistress, gave her head a disdainful toss, while Nessy, who in this respect showed her sentiments, said: "You'd better try to make us believe that black is white." "If the lady's jewels were only here," said the pedler, "so that I could compare them with these I have, which as great a whig lady as there is in the country, sold me because she wanted money to buy clothing for the suffering soldiers, you'd have to give up that what I say is true. . I know what nice jewelry is; Look at this dia- mond breast-pin. It's worth twenty-five guineas. The stone is of the first water, 'and the setting is, as it were, of the gold of Ophir." "There's one in Mrs. Ainsworth's jewel-case worth twice as much," said Nessy. Hotspur, who had, in the meantime, been so busy in examining a pair of shoebuckles, that he had paid no attention to what had been said, now asked the price of them. The pedler, after telling him, appealed to him to know if he thought there were any jewels in the house equal to those he was exhibiting. "I calculate there is," said Hotspur, while Priam uttered an exclamation significant of the utmost contempt. "Well, there's no way to decide the question, unless we see them together," said the pedler. "You know where your mistress keeps her jew- els," he continued, addressing Nessy, "and if you'll bring them forward, so as to compare them, for I don't like to have my wares rated be- low their value, I'll give you the fan you like so i well, and this coral necklace." "I c6uldn't show 'em to you if you'd give me i everything in your pack, for I couldn't get the X *consent of my mistress" "She keeps them in her room, I suppose?" " "Yes," replied Nessy. "An' de ibory box she keep 'em in sets on de 1 table, ready to put into her pocket," said Dinah, i "if de tories and redcoats come." I On receiving this information, there was a -slight twinkle in the pedler's eye, which was,' however, immediately banished, while he has- I tened to say: "I see that you cannot get them, but you shall c have the fan'and the coral necklace all the same. h And here's something for you," said he, handing c a blue and red handkerchief to Dinah. W "Tank you tousand times," said she, making i a low courtesy. f, "As for these shoe-buckles," said he, turning V to Hotspur, if they suit your fancy, take them and welcome; and here's something for you," tl carelessly tossing a pair of knee buckles towards en Priam. t Dinah's eyes glistened, as she examined the handkerchief, and the gleam of the knee-buckles, which were of polished steel, glanced like a ray i of sunshine into the very core of Priam's heart. "Does that girl belong to 'you?" inquired the I pedler of Dinah, and indicating by a nod of his head a damsel of fourteen, and as black as ebony. I "Yes, massa," she replied, "dat be all the dafter I hab." "Then here's a pair of silver oar-rings for her. They'll become her mightily, I'm thinking." ' Go take 'em, Sibby," said her mother, " and try see if you can't make your manners like a leddy." "I can no make my manners fit to be seen," said Sibby, advancing towards Jhe pedler to take the ear-rings; " when I hab on this limpsey gown. When I hab on my new one, I make him stan' out just as round as a great new-milk cheese, when I make courtesy." "Never mind," said the pedler, "I'll take the will for the deed." Dinah held one of the ear-rings against her daughter's jetty cheek, to mark its effect,' which according to her mind was so perfectly charm- ing, that when taken into consideration with the red and blue handkerchief to be appropriated to her own adornment, and the knee-buckles of polished stebl, intended to decorate the person of the sage Priam, all suspicion, as to any sinister intention on the part of the pedler, melted away like frostwork in the sunshine of a bright morn- ing. Even Priam's confidence, though he had acquired a habit of being cautious, was com- pletely won, after Honest John Bicklestaff had , related several adventures, when, according to his own account, he 'had assisted in defending a number of whig families against the predatory incursions of the British and tories, at the immi- nent risk of his own. precious life. Hotspur fearing that his own patriotism might be thrown into the shade, had an adventure to put against each of the pedler'sl somewhat em- bellished, perhaps, by a lively imagination. The enthusiasm of tale auditors mounted higher and higher at each fresh recital, and had they been called upon to express their honest opinion as to who were the three greatest heroes in the world, it would, without hesitation, have been given in favor of Hotspur, John Bicklestaff, and General . Washington. "I wish," said Nessy, at the close of one of the narrations, for her patriotic emotions, how- ever glowing, could not prevent her thoughts page: 62-63[View Page 62-63] from wandering to the pedler's pack, "I wish," said she, " that Miss Ruth could see your fine things. I think she would like a few trinkets." "I should have asked leave to display my wares to the ladies," said the pedler, " if, when I approached the house, I had not heard the sound of music, which made me think they would not care to be interrupted. The morning will be a better time. For the present, if you are well agreed, we will content ourselves with drinking their health." Bicklestaff opened a carefully arranged com- partment of his pack, displaying several dark green bettles. "Here are claret, port, and Madeira. All ex- ceedingly choice of their kind, and were a pres- ent from a whig gentleman, as a alight return, he said, for a service I rendered him. Which do you choose?" said he, addressing Priam, whose age and acknowledged wisdom entitled him to the precedence. "Me like Madeira best," said he. "Long time sin' I tase any. Massa had plenty, but de British officers drink him all up long ago." "Pity it hadn't been poison," said Bicklestaff, producing a large, richly chased silver goblet. Uncorking one of the bottles, he filled the goblet tothe brim, and offered it to Priam. "After you, massa, 's manners," said he. The pedler rose, and assuming a theatrical at- titude, said: "Here's a health to the ladies of both kitchen and parlor, and confusion to our enemies." He drank a small portion of the wine, and re- filling the goblet, handed it to Priam. " Mie pledge you, Massa Bicklestaff, and ask leab to Boas' de gemmen of de parlor, and de kitchen, as well as de ladies," said Priam, flour- ishing the goblet, so as not a little to endanger its contents, and imitating, as well as he was able, the pompous air of the pedler. Bicklegaff bowed in acquiescence to the pro- posed addition to the toast, and having received the empty drinking-vessel, once more re-filled it. It was now Hotspur's turn. "Ladies and gentlemen," said he, taking his place in the centre of the apartment, and making a profound bow, " give me leave to propose Mr. John Bicklestaff, the prince of pedlers, and, as we this evening have had the pleasure of learn- ing from his own lips, a hero among patriots." Dinah, Nessy, and Sibby, who showed a de- cided approbation of Hotspur's toast by their broad smiles, and the delight that sparkled in their eyes, were, in their turn, so warmly pressed by Honest John, to taste of the wine, that they found it impossible, without being rude--so Nes- sy said--to refuse. Their hearts warmed more and more towards the pedler, and every moment they became more communicative. Bicklestaffs munificence kept pace with their increasing con- fidence, and after awhile, he expressed his deter- mination to bestow the silver goblet on Priam, in token of the high estimation in which he held him, he having, to the' best of his belief, at all times been a faithful and willing servant to a worthy gentleman, honestly performing his du- ties as butler. . Flattered by the praise bestowed on him, and a little excited by the wine he had drank, Priam having assured the pedler that the goblet exceed- ed in size and beauty anything of the kind be- longing to his master, went on to describe the manner in which he had so cunningly concealed the plate, that though several bands of maraud- ers had made diligent search for it, their attempts to discover it, had, in every instance, been baffled. This communication was substantiated by the united voices of Hotspur, Dinah and Nessy, and was declared by Bicklestaff to manifest the most astonishing and praiseworthy craft on the part of Priam. "Now, Massa Bicklestaff, we tell you dis as a frin," said Dinah. "Don't 'spect you'll tell noffin' about it." "Do you suppose that I would betray the con- fidence reposed in me?" said he, in accents more expressive of sorrow than anger. "No, me tink no sich ting," said Dinah, her susceptible heart touched by the plaintive sound of his voice. "Nor me, nudder," said Priam. "I'm deeply affected by your generosity," said he, wiping his eyes. He now rose, placed the silver goblet on the table, and arranged his pack. "I believe it is growing late," said he, " but I seldom fall into company so much to my mind. I will now bid you good dlight." But this was not to be thought of, they all said. "Well," said he, "if you'll ailow me a place ort the floor, with my Tack for a pillow, I can be very comfortable. I wont say but that I should esteem it a privilege to stay, for I need both rest and sleep. Don't let me keep either of you up a single minute longer," and without any more ceremony, placing his pack against the wall, and leaning against' it in a half-recumbent posture, in a few minutes he was, to all appearance, sound asleep. CHAPTER XIII. VISIT OF THE TORIES. Here stood a ruffian with a horrid fice, Lording it o'er a pile of massy plate, Tumbled into a heap.- There was another, making villanousetsi At thy undoing: he had ta'en prejudice Of all thy ancient, most domestic ornaments.-Otway. THE rosy footsteps of morning had not yet begun to brighten the distant hill-tops, when Mr. Morney, whose slumbers had been rather light, thought he would rise and make himself sure that nothing had been omitted or overlooked for the proper reception of the anticipated visitors. Having dressed,. he went to a window, which had been left open to admit the air, and looked out. Everything around was, as yet, in a state of profound repose. Even the earlier birds had not commenced their song. All at once, he started, and bent eagerly forward. He could not be mistaken. Though dimly descried through the dark and misty shadows of night, he was certain that he saw some one moving stealthily in the direction of a piece of woods, at no great distance from -the house. He had requested the servants to be astir early, and it might be one of them. Flint and steel were at hand, and quickly striking a light, he went below, and entered the kitchen. Everything there was quiet, and the old clock, which at that moment struck two# showed him that it was yet half an hour to day break. There was no need, he thought, of disturbing any one .at so early an hour. He could not see that anything was neglected. The fire-arms, the cutlasses, and sword that Priam regarded with an eye of so much favor, lay on the heavy oaken table in the same manner they were placed the preceding evening; but on re-entering the kitch- en, be was surprised to see what had before es- caped his notice. The outer door had not, ac- cording to his orders, been barricaded, before the servants retired to rest. Had he examined it still more closely, he would have seen that even the bolt had been suffered to remain drawn. He called upon Priam and- Hotspur to rise, but received no answer. He repeated the call more loudly, and with somewhat better success, for it roused Hotspur from his deep and heavy sleep. A confused perception of the risit of John Bicklestaff came to his mind, andas he commenced dressing with as much alertness as the benumbed state of his faculties permitted, he was unable to decide in his own mind whether it was the pedler or his master he had heard call- ing him. He did not remain -long in a state of uncertainty, for the moment he entered the kitchen, the sight of Mr. Morney, and the vacant place where he had left the pedler leaning against his pack, proved a satisfactory elucidation to the question. "Go call Priam," said Mr. Morney, somewhat sternly," and then come and help me secure this door." Hotspur, who was now effectually roused from the state of stupidity, caused by the fumes of the page: 64-65[View Page 64-65] wine that he had quaffed a few hours previously, and which, unsuspected by him and his fellow- servants, contained a liberal admixture of bran- dy, quickly obeyed the order. Priam, however, was not to be roused by mere words. Hotspur was obliged to shake him pretty roughly by the shoulder, before he could be made to comprehend that he was reqqired to rise. Even then he imagined it was the pedler, and rubbing his eyes, he said; "If Massa Bicklestaff want to go, all he hab to do is to draw de bolt." "It is I," said Hotspur, giving his shoulder a still more vigorous shake, and then, whispering in his ear for him to be silent, as he was anxious to prevent him from again alluding to the ped- ler, for the moment he found that he had with- drawn so unceremoniously, he began to suspect that his visit was made with no good design. At any rate, he knew that they had been im- prudent in admitting him at that particular time, and still more so in suffering him to remain alone i-i the kitchen; and what still more in- creased his uneasiness, he began to have a vague idea that some indiscreet disclosures had been made, which, if his intentions were evil, he might turn to his own account. All this made Hotspur feel very ;uncomfort- able, and he hardly knew whether to confess to Mr. Morney what had taken place, without de- lay, or first endeavor to ascertain if everything remained undisturbed. He was endeavoring to settle this point, as he assisted to secure the door, when they were joined by Roland. Almost at the same instant Mike Larkin made his appear- ance. " The noise we are making disturbed you, I am afraid," said lMr. Morney, addressing Roland. " It waked me, I confess," he replied, " and I am glad it did, for it is better to be half an hour too soon, than a minute too late." "And here are my sister and niece," said Mr. Morne. "And none too soon, I believe," said Mrs. c Ainsworth, " for if I am not much mistaken, I saw from my window several men on horseback, just at the edge of the woods." "You are not mistaken, mother-I am'certain t you are not," said Ruth, " I saw them too." X "Ought not the chamber windows to be se- c cured?" said Mrs. Ainsworth. "I think that closing the shutters will be snf- i ficient," replied her brother, "as I took care to E have all the ladders put out of the way." a r, Priam, during this short colloquy, had, with r- much consternation, discovered that the silver L- goblet that the pedler had presented him as a r, token of his esteem, for the faithful discharge of r his duty, v as missing, as were also the steel e knee-buckles. He shook his head mournfully, d but his thoughts he kept to himself. e - Ruth, who was taking a peep through one of 8 the loop-holes ingeniously arranged between the cushions and mattresses which screened the win- b dows, at this moment exclaimed: *"They are coming! No," she added, "I am i mistaken-they have turned back." "How many can you see?" asked her uncle. "Only four. Yes, there are six of them. * More than that-they still emerge from the - woods." By this time Mr. Morney and Roland had each stationed himself at one of the loop-holes. The eastern sky was now fast brightening, though the horsemen, who still kept within the deep shad- ows cast by the woods, could be only imper- fectly seen. There appeared, however, to be a dozen or more of them, who were carelessly grouped together, as if holding a short consul- tation. Mr. Morney, Roland, and Mike, had each taken possession of a rifle, leaving the fowling-piece for Hotspur. Priam, whose self esteem sunk nearly to zero, when he recalled the incidents of the preceding evening, though he mechanically seized the sword, showed by his countenance and his move- ments, that he possessed little alacrity of spirit. Had he been obliged to carry the plate on his shoulders, which by his skill and cunning had passed safely through divers perils, but that now, he had no doubt, was destined to be seized by the plunderers, it would have weighed less heavily than the upbraiding thoughts that he tried, in vain, to shake off. "They aie now coming in good earnest," said Mr. Morney. "Say not a word, and make no noise of any kind. Let them have the impres- sion that we have not yet risen." In the deep stillness of the morning, more than a dozen horses, beating the ground as they adranced with furious speod, made a noise like the rushing of a strong wind, while theii riders, most of them wild, uncouth looking men, some of them wearing bearskin caps, in which was stuck a bunch of eagle's feathers, after the fash- ion of the. aborigines, others with a tuft of horse- hair, streaming back upon the wind, presented an appearance indescribably wild, as imperfectly seen through the misty shadows of the morning. The two foremost rode directly up to the door, which,-till within a short time had been left un- barricaded, and threw themselves from their horses. One of them, who would have hardly been recognized as the smooth looking John Bicklestaff, with the false hair that now fell in dark elf-locks about his face, lifted the latch, in the full expectation that there was nothing to impede the entrance of him and his companions. "How is this?" said he. "The inner works of the rascals' heads must have been as strong as their outer defences are said to be, or the cau- tious manner in which I left the house could not have aroused them, after their deep pota- tions. The door is bolted." "And barricaded, too," said his companion, striking the door with his fist, which gave a dull, heavy response, instead of the hollow, ring- ing sound that would have been emitted, -had there been no obstruction placed against the inside. They now returned to those who still remained on their horses. There was a whispered consul- tation of a few minutes, and then, all except one, who probably remained as a sentinel, sprang to the ground. The apparel of one of them, whom, as he gave some orders in a sup- pressed voice, they took to be the commander, was, in some respects, superior to that worn by the rest, his cap being made of the skin of some more delicate animal than the bear, while an epaulette of green worsted, or some such mate- rial, was displayed on his shoulder. Their con- sultation finished, -they disappeared round the corner of the house. "I suspect they intend to enter by a window," said Mr.'"Morney. "If they do, we will be ready to receive them," said Roland, springing towards one of the win- dows, while at the same moment Mr. Morney placed himself at another. They soon found that they had been mistaken in- their conjecture. "I believe that they have entered that small shed," gsaid Roland; "for although I cannot see them, I can hear their voices " "They have," was Mr. Morney's answer; "and it is well for them that the open side does not face the windows." This announcement caused Priam to groan audibly, and Dinah and Nessy, who had now risen, their dreams of jewels, laces, ribbons, and gay 'kerchiefs, having been broken, at last, slowly and mournfully shook their heads, in token that they understood the cause of his sadness, and sympathized with him in his affliction. "You are thinking of the plate, Priam," said Mr. qVorney; "but I think there is no danger of their finding it, They will never suspect that it is concealed in that' old, open shed." Priam was not to be consoled. He knew very well, that the description he gave John Bickle- staff of the place where iti was concealed, giving, in the fullness of his self-complacency, the most, minute particulars,' was such, that he could not fail to find it. That worthy personage had, in truth, visited the spot, when he first stole from the house, and had not the old oak chest, filled with bits of iron, and other materials equally worthless and weighty, that concealed the trap- door which gave access to the place where the plate was deposited, been too heavy to be re- moved by his own unaided exertions, he would have secured the treasure before leaving the premises. It was not many minutes before a loud shout told that their search had been successful. The plate was brought out, and placed in a pile on the lawn, till Bic;klestaff, by tying up the open end of a sack, and ripping a place midway of the seam, prepared a kind of impromptu pair of saddle-bags for its reception, so that when thrown across a horse's back, one end would balance the other. The leader of the gang, now, in a loud voice, called upon those in the house to open the doors and admit them, or otherwise they should force an entrance, being, he said, in want of provision and clothing, of which, he had been told, there was plenty, that was intended to be distributed to the enemies of their lawful sovereign. "We shall open no doors," was Mr. Morney's answer; " on the contrary, we shall shoot those who venture within reach of our rifles." This finished the parley between the besiegers and the besieged. "They are dragging along a piece of timber," said Ruth. " What can they be going to do with it?" $ "They intend placing it against one of the doors,I suppose," said her uncle; " expecting to either force off the hinges, or break the panels. They are afraid to approach. the windows, lest they should be saluted with our rifles, and I sus- pect they will not escape them as it is." "They are going round to the front door," said Roland. page: 66-67[View Page 66-67] "That will give us a better chance," returned Mr. Morney; "but we must alter our arrange- ments." Mike Larkin and Hotspur were stationed at a different window and Mr Morney, while he se- lected a place for himself, told Roland to do the same. Ruth took charge of the ammunition, and was to convey it from one to the other, as it was needed. She, and even Mrs. Ainsworth, turned pale and trembled, when Mr. Morney gave the word to fire. They could not, without emotion, listen to a command that might destroy the life even of an enemy. Hotspur, who had detected him through his disguise, aimed at Bicklestaff; the others were actuated only by the wish to repel the invaders. Each shot told. Four of them fell, but whether they were killed, or only wounded, could not be known. Those who remained unhurt discharged their fire-arms, without doing any damage, how- ever, and then turned and fled, until they had attained such a distance that a rifle-ball could not reach them. ,The leader, then, in a voice loud enough to be heard by those in the house, informed them that though they should leave them then, they should return at a time when they were least expected, when they might count on their being fully revenged for the manner in which they had been treated. Roland, who had not before had an opportu- nity to obtain a full view of the leader, thought he recognized in him the ruffian, who, the day previous, had insisted on exchanging horses with him. At this moment Nessy burst into the room, and said that she had just seen a man with the young gentleman's horse. "Do you mean mine?" said Roland, spring- ing towards the window, to look out. Nessy replied that she did. "Yes, they have made a prisoner of my gen- tle Oberon," said Roland. "I believe, if he were within range of my rifle, I should rather shoot him than to have him in the hands of such a gang of ruffians." One of their number, who had taken it upon himself to pack the plate in the canvass saddle- bags, having finished, threw them across one of the horses. He then assisted to convey those who had fallen to the edge of the woods, where, of the limbs and boughs of the trees, they con- structed some rude litters, on which they could carry them to some hut or other place of shelter; a circumstance which caused Mr. Morney, and the others who were watching their movements, to conclude that neither of them had been slain. "I am fortunate in one thing," said Mr, Mor- ney, addressing Roland,-who had stood watch- ing his horse till it disappeared behind the trees. "What do you refer to?" said Roland. ' "My horses. They were in a range of stalls somewhat remote from the one occupied by yours, a circumstance that, I suppose, caused the thieves to miss them. I have half-a dozen excellent sad. dle-horses, either of which, except the one that belongs to my niece, is at your service." "I am greatly obliged to you," replied Ro- land, " and will gladly accept your offer, tem- porarily, at least." "It is very singular," said Mrs. Ainsworth, re-entering the apartment, after a short absence, and speaking in a low voice to Ruth. "What is singular?" asked her daughter. "That the box, containing the family jewels, should be gone." "I certainly saw it, last evening, on your dressing-room table," said Ruth. "And I not only saw it, but opened it, to put in a locket containing your sister's miniature." "Then some one must have entered the cham- ber and taken it. Is it possible that Mike Lar- kin could have done it?" "I think not," replied her mother. "It may be that Nessy removed it to a place she thought was safer." , "Come this way," said Ruth to Nessy, who was busy removing the mattresses and cushions from the windows. "Did you remove the ivory box from my dress- ing-room table ." said Mrs. Ainsworth. "Do you mean the box where you keep your jewels?" "Yes." "No, I never meddled with it," said Nessy, looking down, to avoid the eye of her mistress. "Well, some one has meddled with it, for it is no longer on the table. Neither could -I find it in either of the drawers." "Then that old, good for-nothing Bicklestaff has carried it off," said Nessy, forgetting, in the heat of her indignation, that she and Priam, and Dinah and Hotspur, had hastily made'a compact, among themselves, not to disclose the secret of his visit. - "Bicklest-aff? Whom do you mean?" said Mrs. Ainsworth. "Bicklestaff, the pedler," said Nessy, looking down, for she saw that she had committed hcr- self, and she might as well confess the whole matter. "Did he make you a visit last evening " in- quired Ruth. "Yes, he called to see if we would buy some of his trinkets." "But he could not have gone up to my moth- er's room without your knowing it?" "I, at least, must have known it," said Mrs. Ainsworth, " for I didn't go to sleep till the clock struck twelve." Nessy, bursting into tears, confessed that after he had given all of them presents, and treated them to a plenty of Madeira, they consented to let him remain all night. When once she com- menced making her confession she kept nothing back, but told how, in the fullness of their hearts, they had disclosed to him where the box of jew- els was, also where was secreted the plate. "It will teach you all a good lesson, I hope," said Mrs. Ainsworth, gravely, when she had fin. ished. "I shall, for the present, say nothing to my brother about it, for, at such a time as this, I don't care to have him harassed by finding that the servants have not proved trustworthy." Nessy's gratitude for this promised forbearance caused her tears to flow still more copiously than before. "Go away by yourself,'Nessy," said Mrs. Ainsworth, " and when you have succeeded in composing yourself you may put the mattresses and cushions in their proper places." "Thank you thousand times," said Nessy, and, with much alacrity, she availed herself of the welcome permission. When she was gdne, Mrs. Ainsworth, on looking round, saw Mike Larkin standing so near that he must have heard all that had been said respecting the jewels and the plate. She regretted this, and was considering whether it would be best to request his silence, when he said, 'arelessly, as he turned to leave .the room, "I tell no tales." page: 68-69[View Page 68-69] CHAPTER XIV. MKE LARKIN'S ADVENTURES 'ITII THE TORIES9. '"In my time, I've seen a boy do wonders.,') IT being desirable that Mr. Morncy should be on the alert as quickly as possible, in order to suocessful:y perform the piece of service assigned him by General Marion, breakf.-st was ordered at an early hour. When ready to sit down to the table, they found that Mike Larkin was miss- ing. Inquiry was made for him, but no one had seen him after he left the apartment where he had overheard what was said respecting the missing box of jewelry, except Dinah. He came to her, she said, and requesting something to eat, she gave him some bread and a slic of ham, when he immediately left the house. "It seems a little strange, that he should go away so abruptly," said Mrs. Ainsworth. "He probably could not content himself to re- main in the same p r ce, twenty-four hours at a time," said Roland. "It was my intention," said Mr. Morney, " to invite him to join our expedition-that is, if I found that he was capable of managing a horse." "There would have been no trouble on that score," said Roland; " for I have seen h m ride swift as the wind, without either saddle or bridle. I don't believe that one of the wild horses of the desert I have read about, could throw him." "That makes me the more regret that he should have slipped away so unceremoniously. He would have made an excellent aid." "Do you expect tp have trouble in finding as many men as you think will 'be necessary?" asked Roland. "The number I shall be able to collect will probably be less than I could desire, though I hope to make it answer the purpose." "I have been thinking of offering my poor services," said Roland. "But has not General Marion something else in hand that will require them?" "Shortly before I left him, he told me to do as I pleased-accompany you, if you were short of men, or return as soon as I had delivered my message." "Then go with me, by all means, for I shall be obliged to divide my men into two parties, and I can think of no one to whom I should like to entrust the command of either party. If you will consent to take charge of one of them, it will free my mind from much anxiety.' "Though I should be glad if some one older and more experienced could be found to fill the place," said Roland, " after what you have said, I cannot well refuse." Breakfast was now soon finished, and Mr. Morney ordered three horses to be led from the stable, for the accommodation of himself, Roland and Hotspur. Having bid adieu to Mrs. Ainsworth, for a few days only, as they both hoped, Roland took leave of Ruth in a manner, that, though there was lit- tle regret expressed by words, was eloquent in that silent language of which the countenance is the best interpreter. Had the service in which he was about to engage, been fraught with less danger, Ruth might have affected not to under- stand this mute demonstration of regard on the part of the handsome young soldier. Now, though she only said the single word, " farewell," and that with a show of, cheerfulness, he well knew, that, should he fall while engaged in his perilous enterprise, she woiuld give him tears, and pity, and true thoughts. Mike Larkin, eating what Dinah had given, as he went, crolssed some fields, that he could 'see would bring him to a part of the woods that would be screened from the observation of the marauders, who had just entered them. It was his object to ascertain where they'intended to stop for the night, and as those wVo had in chargi their wounded companions were obliged to proceed slowly, he imagined he might, by using proper caution, keep near enough to them to effect his purpose. It was not long, before, guided by their voices, he was able to approach themt within so short a distance, as to see as well as hear them. They bad just arrived within a smfll glade, where, at the command of their leaver, they halted. It was agreed among themserces that a sufficient number for the purpose should convey the wound- ed to a house belonging to an acquaintance of one of the men present, that was situated on the opposite side of the Wfoods; while the others waited at a place that was named, till they were ready to rejoin them. They were then, with all possible despatch, to prosecute their journey, hop- ing to arrive, at no very late hour in the evening, to a post fortified by the British. Mike Larkin, who well knew 7, here it was, having passed with- in sight of it, two days before, doubted whether they would be able to reach it as soon as they in- tended. If they did succeed in reaching it, he would, he was afraid, be foiled in his purpose, which was no less than to recover Roland Floyd's horse, and if possible, the plate and jewels be- longing to Mr. Morney and Mrs. Ainsworth. He stood for a few moments, irresolute, when apparently having, in his own mind settled what he thought the most politic inode of procedure, he gained, as quickly as possible, the high road, and then pursued his way, at a moderate speed, like one who has a day's journey before him. In half an hour or more he heard the party approaching. When by. a glance over his 5 a shoulder, he could see they had come in sight, he e commenced walking very rapidly; for, though h lame, there were few pedestrians who could s keep pace with him. .Iie soon succeeded in - gaining a thicket, that skirted the roadside, into e whieb he crept. The leader and one more, who , were before the rest, arrived almost immediately, and drew up their horses close to the spot 1 where he had concealed himself. s "Halloo," said one of them, "come out and I show yourself, if you don't want to taste of cold steel." S As he spoke he drew his sword, and bending a down, made a feint to thrust it in among the ; bushes, that were far from presenting an imper- , vious barrier between himself and Mike. s "I'm ready and willing'-to come out, now I * see you don't belong to Marion's men." "No, we are all good loyalists, and have nothing to do with that old fox. Has it ever been your luck to see him?" "It never has." "You may count yourself a lucky dog, then, for if he had got you into his clutches, he would have made you fight against good King George, whether you were willing or not. If you'tl come along with us, you'll have a merry time. We take everything from the rebels we can lay our hands on. Have some good pickings with us now, and a lot more in a safe place. Some of 'em may find their way to the king's chest, if there's more than our captain thinks we want ourselves, but there aint much danger of that, I reckon-is there, captain?" "I shan't suffer for want of 'em myself, nor let my men suffer," was the answer. "Then I don't care if I go along with you," said Mike, nimbly clearing himself with a single bound from the tushes. "That's right," said the captain. "Now mount one of these horses." There were several that had no riders, and Mike, after running his eye over them, went qp to the one he thought was the most spirited. "You'd better not meddle with that beast," said one of them, whom the captain called Si. "I thought I kind o' liked the looks of him," returned Mike. h Yes, he looks well enough, but if you aint used to riding, he'll throw you. He belongs to one of our comrades, who's got a rifle-ball lodged in his side, and will tip anybody off, except bis owner, as quick as I can snap my finger." * "I guess I'll try him," said Mike, " for there page: 70-71[View Page 70-71] aint one in the whole lot that fills my eye equal to him, except that the cap'n's on." "Let him try him, Si," said the captain, " if he likes. His neck is his own property." "Remember I fairly warned you," cried Si. Before he had half finished the sentence, Mike was seated in the saddle, which the animal ack- nowledged by springin to the opposite side of the road, and then doubling, and wheeling, and performing all manner of mad, fantastic tricks, with such rapidity that the eye could scarce follow his movements. Throughout the whole of this mad caracoling, the horse and his rider formed what might have been deemed a good picture of one of the ballad centaurs, with such precision did the latter sway himself to the motions of the former. The cunning animal, as well as the spectators of the scene, was soon satisfied that throwing his dexterous rider was a feat not to be accomplish- ed, for the old man of the mountain never ad- hered to the shoulders of his victim with more tenacity than did Mike to the saddle. With more wisdom, therefore, than is sometimes ex- emplified by those who account themselves ra- tional beings, he made a virtue of necessity, and all at once standing perfectly still, with a low neigh, seemed to. concede to his new rider the victory. "He's a keen one," said Si, nodding his head, and .looking at Mike. "Yes," said the captain, "and if I'm not mistaken, will need to have a sharp ege kept on him." "That he will," was the remark of one of the others. At any rate, it was manifest that he had greatly risen in the estimation of all, that was not lessened by the docility withvhich the fiery steed, that had received the sobriquet of "Tiger," from that moment obeyed the most gentle im- pulse of the hand that guided him. They went on at a brisk rAte, till the increasing heat warned them to slacken their speed, and seek some spot where they might repose them- selves till the sun had so far passed the meridian as to cause his rays to fall more obliquely. The more leisurely manner in which they now pursu- ed their way, permitted a little chat, and Si, who rode by the side of Mike, took the opportunity to ask him how he became so expert a horseman. "O, it come kind o' nat'ral to me," returned Mike. "I reckon you aint a native of the South." "No, I was born in New England." "In Massachusetts, perhaps?" "Yes." "Then you've come from a nest of rebels'?" "Yes, a good part of 'em have little liking for King George or his officers either." "And so you thought you'd come south!" "Yes, I kind o' thought I should like here better than at the North." "There can be no doubt of it. A youngster that can manage a horse like you, is just fit for the wild life we lead. It is true, we have some pretty narrow escapes, but it is far easier to have gold for the taking, than to earn it at the blacksmith's forge, as I used to be obliged to. A short life and a merry one, is my motto- what say you?" "I can say that I think a merry life better than a sad one," replied Alike, who had his eye fixed on the horse rode by the captain. "That horse," said he, after a minute's silence, "is what I call a beauty." "You mean the, captain's?" ",Yes." "That's what he is, and the captain may thank me for him." "Why so?" "Because I just k!cd him out of Morney's sta- ble, when the balls wtre whistling round my ears thick as hail-stones. Do you know Morneyf " "I've heard of him." ' "And do you know he is one of the rankest rebels that was ever suffered to live?" "I never heard that said." "Well, he is, and is hand and glove with Ma- rion." "Was the horse his?" t No, I think he belongs to a youngster, that will one day be made to taste of our captain's revenge." "Why? Has he done any injury to your captain '." "Look him in the face." "Well," said Mike, having obeyed the word. "Did you see that purple mark across his face?" "Yes, I saw that when I was-hid in the bush- es, and thought he'd look better withoutit." "And feel better, too, I'm thinking. Well, that was laid on hisoface by the young upstart's riding-whip, who was the owner of the captain's horse." "Now that seems to sound as if he was kind o' quarrelsome,-that is, if there was nothing to provoke him." 'Perhaps he thought there was, but the cap- tain only wanted to exchange horses with him. Never mind, he'll get his pay some day, Our captain is a gentleman that never forgets to be revenged when he receives an insult." Mike, at the word gentleman, with a slight shrug, and something like a smile of scorn on his lips, both of which were happily unperceived by his interlocutor, cast a quick glance at the captain, whose sinister and forbidding countei- ance,-its expression by no means rendered more amiable by the mark left by the riding-whip,-- was in good keeping with the rest of his personal appearance and his general demeanor. "Maybe, he'll have no chance to be revenged/' said Mike. "You don't know him so well as I do, or you wouldn't say so. He'll keep on his tracks like a sleuth-houind, day and night, rather than-be balk- ed. Were I to affront him I shouldn't count my: lifi worth the light of a farthing:candle. They- do say," added he, lowering:his voice, andr lean- ing on one side, so as to bring- his face closer to Mike's,--" they do say he has Indian blood in his veins, so that if he should never have a chance to be revenged on him, himself, he'll bind his boy, now a chap about ten years old, with an oath, to give him his pay after he sdead and gone. I tell you this in the way of friend- ship like,.for the way you got the better of the a horse- you're on, that looks more like a lamb, than a tiger, as we always scall him, makes me i have a kind of liking, for -you." By-this time they had reached a' piece of pine r woods, which, for more than a mile, skirted one a side of the road. Riding slowly along, they a watched for -one of those openings; which, some. i times, with a graceful sweep, led into the very ] heart of the woods. They-were not long in coming th one, which t gave promise of leading to one of those sylvan r recseses, so-grateful on account of their verdure w and delicious coolness, to those who have been s exposed to the sun and dust of the high i dad. I Fearing, however, that some hostile party, actu- v ated by the same motives as themselves, might t already have been tempted to trace the windings t of the dim old forest aisle, especially as the grass - and herbage seemed to be somewhat trampled. at the entrance, one of their number alighted, and, 1. with cautious foolte,.-.Went forward to. recon- y noitre. He soon ret ua;mThe marks, which' b had excitted suspicion, e h nyshort dis tance antd had, undoubtedly, beenaused by a ftW )- few horsemen, having drawn up in the shade to breathe their horses. The cavalcade was, there- r fore, soon beneath the sheltering branches of ea the pines, which, shooting out in a nearly hori. zontal direction, were so thickly interlaced, far t above their heads, as to form a ceiling of dark a verdure over the narrow glade they had entered, t and through which, here and there, glittered a specks of sunlight, which shone like stars in a midnight sky. B To a romantic, imagination it would have - seemed a more fitting, haunt for. one of those I chivalrous bands of the- olden time, led by some adventurous knight, whose object was to succor those in- distress, and rescue the weak and help- less from the hands of the oppressor, than for the gang of miscreants; whose visages seemed to grow more savage:and lowering by the dim, un- certain light of the glade, and whose avowed ob- ject was rapine and plunder. 'Some of them, in more instances than one, had not even scrupled to redden their hands with the blood of women; and children. The gleam of water, proceeding from a branch of one of the larger rivers, was seen at no great distance. Mike Larkin volunteered his services to lead the horses. to drink, after having, with great alertness, assisted to unload three of them which had been employed to carry the baggage, and to unsaddle the others. He kept a shap eye on the canvass saddle-bags, and succeeded in so adjusting them among the pile of other ar- ticless mostly .provisionsi that they could be readily removed. But he could nowhere see anything which answered 'to the description. which he-had heard given of the box, contain- ing the jewelry, which had been taken from Mrs. Ainsworth's dressing-room. Cold hoe-cakes, and some cheese, sufficed for their noon-day meal, for they were too near the road to venture on kindling a fire,- the smoke of which might have betrayed their proximity to some adverse party, that'might chance to pass. They had just commenced eating, when they were startled by seeing some one lurking among the trees, near the entrance of the glade. One of them at once raised his musket to fire, when the man stepped forward, into the enclosure. "Is it you, -JbeyTurnbolt?" said the man, lowering his musket. "Why didn't you show, y ourself without ceremony, instead of skulking behind the-trees, atkd running the risk of being shbt aser - "Didn't noiw ^astfirst, whether I'd fallen in with friends or foes," was his answer. page: 72-73[View Page 72-73] "What brought you here ." 1"Why, I heard that a squad of Marion's men was expected along between this and night, so I thought I might as well keep out of sight till they'd passed." "A squad of Marion's men, did you say ." said the captain, rising, and advancing towards him. "Yes," returned Turnbolt. "Why Captain Grisley, how do you do 1 I'm glad to see you." "I'm well enough," growled the captain. "Come, Joey," said Si, "sit down on the grass with us, and eat a piece of cold hoe-cake and cheese." "Don't care if I do. You mean to stay here all night, I reckon." "No, we thought of pushing on, when it gets to be a little cooler. We want to reach the British post, up-by the river." .," Better not venture till Morney and his rang- ers pass." ",But I will, though," exclaimed Grisley, " if Morney is at the head of 'em. He's just the one I should like to come across. I've a long score against him, and should like to square accounts." "Take another time for it, then. There are too many for you to cope with now." "How many?" "From twenty-five to thirty, I understand. He didn't expect to get half that number, but he was joined by a party of a dozen or more he happened to fall in with." "Then we must keep out of their way, I sup- pose. Who was at the head of the party that joined him?" "Don't know, but was told that Morney had a young chap from the North with him, who would take the command of a part of 'em, in case of need." "I know who that is," returned the captain, grinding his teeth, "and I'll have his heart's blood one day." "Why, I never saw the captain look so savage in my life," said Turnbolt, in a low voice, after Grisley had turned away. "It seemed to me that living sparks of fire flashed from his eyes. Do you know, Si, what he has against the young man, besides his being a rebel ." "Can't tell you now," said Si, shaking his head,--" will some time." "Though we shall hear Morney and his rang- ers when they pass," said Grisley, " one of you must stand sentinel, so near the road as to see them. I want to know their number." No one was better satisfied with this arrange- ment than Mike Larkin, who earnestly hoped that they would pass at so late an hour as to compel them to remain where they were till after dark. Their meal being finished, most of them dis- posed themselves on the grass, so as to pass those hours in sleep which might intervene before it might be prudent for them to venture forth; while the others, grouping themselves together, related tales of their past adventures, where each, according to his own account, had performed prodigies of valor. None, however, shone so conspicuous as the feat of Si, who repeated to Turnbolt the story he had told Mike, relative to his leading Roland's horse from'the stable, in the midst of a perfect shower of balls. Mike Larkin, a little apart from the rest, lay at length on the grass, though without the most remote idea of indulging in sleep. At another time, for his temperament was decidedly poetic, his fancy might have found free play in listen- ing to the deep, wild minstrel notes of the wind, as it swept through the tops of the pines, their monotony now and then relieved by the sweet melody of the thrush, or the clear, liquid song of the blackbird. The deep, motionless shadows, -too, that lay on the grass,-for the inflexible foliage of the pines yielded not to the sway of the wind,-with here and there a patch of sunshine, so well de- fined as to resemble a fragment of gold, together with the flowers that looked forth from the mQss and leaves, might, at a more propitious season, have served as food 'or his imagination. Now he listened only for the coming of Morney and Ro- land, with their rangers, while his thoughts were such as he would not have cared to disclose to those present. Hour after hour wore away. Those who had fallen asleep, slept on, for they had rested little the preceding night, while those who had found amusement in glorifying their own exploits, be- gan to grow weary. "Turnbolt," said one of them, "I believe you sounded a false alarm." "Wait and see," returned Turnbolt. ' I think we've waited about long enough," said Grisley, raising himself on his elbow. "That's what I think," said Si. "Don't you see," s"i^Mti, " that the snn has got so low Chines in among the trees, so as t I i the ground in long streaks T Co e, C use yourselves, all of you, 4 and be making ready to start. The sun will be out of sight in fifteen minutes." "Now, captain, take the advice of Joey Turn- bolt, and stay here a little longer. Starlight is as good a light for such as us to travel by as any in the world." "So be it, then," said Grisley, "but if it turns out that we've been waiting for nothing, you may expect pretty rough treatment. I don'.t choose to be trifled with. Si, keep an eye on Turnbolt, and see that he don't give us the slip, and I'll see if I can't get a little more sleep." The silence which now succeeded remained unbroken by a single word. The sun went down, the shades of twilight fell around, which, in time, gave place to the darkness of night. Stars shone brightly in the heavens, but their light did not ] penetrate the dark and almost palpable gloom that hovered beneath the tall pines that encir- cled the glade. At last all of them yielded to sleep, except Mike Larkin. It might have been nearly an hour and a half after sunset, when- Grisley, and b several of the others, among whom were Si and Turnbolt, were suddenly roused by the quick, t heavy tramp of horses, intermingled with which t was a faint clang of the arms, produced by the rapid and bounding motion which was borne by a their riders. Like the rush of a whirlwind the noise passed v by and was gone, so that only a faint murmuring sound was heard by the time those who slept most soundly were fairly awake. "There go Morney and his rangers," said Turnbolt. "I knew they'd be along." Preparations were now made for immediate I departure. Several being engaged in placing the luggage on the pack-horses, it was not observed that the canvass laddle-bags were missing, each imagining that one of the others had taken caem of them. "Saddle my horse, and lead him this way," said Grisley. "I've been trying to find himn this good while," said Si, "but I haven't come across him yet." "Maybe he's got loose," said Turnbolt. "Light a torch, and search till he's found," said Grisley. "Here's Tiger," said Si, "and where's the imp that's to ride him? Mike-Mike Larkin-- where are you ." There was no answer. "Perhaps he hasn't waked up," said one of them. ".The last time I saw him he was close to the pile of baggage, and fast asleep, or appeared to be," said Turnbolt. At the word baggage, Si held the torch close to the pack horses, so that he could distinguish the different articles with which they were loaded. "It is my opinion," said he, after he had made a satisfactory examination, "-that when the cap- tain's horse is found, Mike-Larkin and the can- vass saddle-bags wilt be found with him." page: 74-75[View Page 74-75] CHAII'f XV. THE TORIES' BOOTY RETURNED. baeh ehang is wrought by love alone! In Wt]"iibtpbla aInile and home's carew, Coleteem al the heart's sweet tie Into oknei of happbtes.-L-aca RookJh. TEm evening, with its stars so clear and glit- tering, yet without the power to pierce the folds of the dark, eof veil which had fallen over sur- rounding objects, investing some with a weird- like beauty, and giving to others a gloom so deep as to awe and startle, found Mrs. Ainsworth and her daughter in the same apartment, and each seated at an open window. Both were si- lent. Mrs. Ainsworth's thoughts went back to the years that were gone, not without glancing to the brother, who had left her that morning, and the young and handsome Roland Floyd, and more frequently still to the son, whom she had not seen for so many years. And the thoughts of Ruth-they were less easily defined. So vague and dreamy were they that they could not well have been shaped into language. The music of her harp, when its chords thrilled with music, wild, sweet and desul- tory, to the careless touch of her fingers, would have given them a truer expression. Never had a calm, clear, starry evening appeared to her so wondrously beautiful. There was magic in its dim loveliness, and in the low murmur of insect voices, which ever floats through the air in the stillness of a summer evening. Yet through all the mist of these wavering, dimly defined thoughts, was one object, though she hardly real- ized it, to which they flowed as to a centre, and which shed over them a soft enchantment. Thus, when after a silence of more than an hour, which to Ruth, with her bright woman fancies, had seemed hardly a tithe of that time, her mother suddenly asked the question, "How did you like him ." her mind was so full of Roland that she answered as if the inquiry was sequent to some remark that had already been made concerning him, instead,-as might have been excusable in the newness and timidity of a first awakened affection,-of affecting not to understand who was meant. "If Lionel," said she, " is only as handsome, and appears as brave and noble as he does, I think that you will have reason to be proud of your son, and I of my brother." "Yes, Roland appears to be brave, and he is certainly extremely handsome. His beauty is, moreover, of that noble, heroic cast, which makes one forget to dwell on the faultless mould of each particular feature. Yet, fine-looking as he is, he does not, in personal appearance, surpass your brother." "I cannot perfectly recall my brother's looks, yet I remember I used to watch him when he spoke of British oppression, to observe his dark eyes flash, and to note a look about his mouth, that I thought' very proud, and, at the same time, very beautiful." "The question is not whether he is equal to Roland Floyd, but whether Roland, making all due allowance for his greater youthfuitlness, is equal to him." Ruth, though in her secret heart she believed there could be no doubt that Rbland was equal to her brother, did not give full expression to her belief in the answer she made her mother. To persons unaccustomed to those sudden and hostile visits contingent on partisan warfare, it might seem strange that two females, ith iino one to protect them except a few servants, among whom Priam might be deemed the most efficient, could, after so recent an attack, be so calm and collected as to yield to those serene influences, ihich seem naturally to flow only from a sense of domestic security. On the part of Mrs. Ains- worth, it was owing to almost perfect self-iontrol, joined with a lofty courage, which Was as much, the result of moral training as of physical vigor; her mind, at the same time, was cheered anid stts- tained by an unwavering faith that those who had her best wishes and her fervent prayers would, in due time, prove victorilts. As for Ruth, she had, at so ealy a period, be- come familiarized to warlike exploits- -her uacle frequently going forth at the head of a party of men, every one of whom, in many instances, she was personally acquainted with-that scenes, such as she had witnessed in the morning, did not inspire her with the same terror they would have done had her knowledge of war been de- rived from the history of the past, rather than her own observation, and the personal experience of those with whom she was almost daily conver- sant. The-example of her mother, also, no doubt, had ihe effect to inspire her with courage, for we are prone to imit/ate what we admire. There was but little more said, either by moth- er or daughter. Each was busy with the thoughts and memories which came thronging to them in the stillness of that calm, starry evening. It was late when they retired to rest, yet, when morning came, they did not break in upon their habit of early rising, It was the custom of Ruth, as well as of her mother, to be up in season to see the sun rise, and it was no'uncommon thing for her to watch from her window the first ap- pearance of " morn, in russet mantle clad." As she stood at her open window she heard the sound of a horse's feet. It Was very faint at first, so much so that she thought she might be deceived. Gradually, however, the sound grew louder and more distinct, and then, with some teet her nclde, alarm, for she could not yet exk certain, 80 as she drew back behind the window m of any one to screen herself from the observation revent her without, though not a manner to, y an hour. from seeing who was abroad at so earn In a few She did not long remain . in susipefse. .ring o minutes the horse of Roland Floyd, be ,%nvass his back Mike Larkin, and a pair of c At of saddle-bags, galloped into the yard, in fre ned the stable. Ruth hastened below aid op f one of the doors to admit him, f6r, & jyet, none -. the servants had risen. Hating pioperly attenL ed to the tired steed, Mike issued from the stable door. "Good morfing, Mike," said she. He returned the salutation, End, taking up the saddl1-bags, adtanecd to the door where she stood. "Here's some property that belongs here, I believe," said he, "and I've took the liberty to bring it home on Sergeant Floyd's horse. I meant to do it when I wenft away from here, this morning, and I have done it." "And at the risk of your life, perhaps V" "Well, I suppose if I'd been caught, my life wouldn't have been worth much, but I looked; out sharp for that." "My mother will be down in a minute, and you must come in and tell us all about it. We will have some breakfast ready for you directly." "Here's the plate-all safe and sound, I be- lieve," said he, as he followed her into the house, "but that ivory box, I heard Mrs. Ainsworth telling 'about, I could find nothing of." Mrs. Ainsworth, who heard her daughter in conversation with some one, soon joined them. "Now, ma'am," said Mike, after Ruth had briefly explained what had taken place, "I wish you would be so kind as to see if any of the sil- ver stuff is missing. It is tied -up close enough, at any rate." Knots which could not be readily untied yield- ed to the keen edge of Mike's jacknife, when the first thing that presented itself was the ivory jewel-box. The plate, also, was all safe, and it almost seemed as if it must possess some mag- netic influence over him, who, for a long series of years, had bestowed so much care on it, for, by the time it was fairly displayed to view, Pri- am was standing by it, with eyes glistening as -bright as the silver, and an exhibition of ivory, which'those, who knew him best, never expected to see so broadly revealed again. After the first ebullition of delight was somewhat subdued, he page: 76-77[View Page 76-77] stood regard' too great fo ng it with a kind of reverential joy, "I belil z words. must tal jve," said Mrs. Ainsworth, "that we plate at Be an early opportunity to place this offere' . the disposal of General Marion. It was a S, f 1I to him some time ago, but he requested tim jr the present, to retain it-his wants at that a - a being supplied-thinking it might serve as resource, when other means failed. "I'd work my hands off, up to de elbows," said Priam, " sooner dan hab it go." "Then, should there be a requisition," said Mrs. Ainsworth, smiling, "I suppose the jewels must go." "Come, Mike," said Ruth, "you haven't told aU yet, the adventures you met with, after you 4 lft us so unceremoniously, yesterday morning." "I didn't meet with much trouble in getting dear of the pine woods, for they were all asleep, i sound as a top," said Mike, after having related the incidents already known. Having finished their recital, he continued: "I had a narrow escape from a party of redcoats. ( I was riding slowly along, for I didn't want to tire my horse any more'n there was need of, * when a turn in the road brought me within pis- i tol shot of as many as twenty horsemen, who i were stopping to rest their horses, I expect. Though I couldn't see.'em so plain as if it had E been daylight, I could tell well enough that they i were chiefly, if not all, British. It wouldn't do for me to turn back, and I didn't know how 1 E should manage to escape 'em, if I went forward. I couldn't spare time to consider much, so I just I gave my horse a hint, and it was well for me I did, for one of the voices that called after me to stop, belonged to a man I've no very great fancy y for." " Who was 't?" inquired Mrs. Ainsworth. h "A British officer by the name of Dillman. He is a bad man. I had a chance to know some- a thing about him a number of years ago. He y was at the North then-a major under General Howe." "Lionel told us something about a Major Dillman, in one of his letters once," said Ruth. "I shouldn't like much to meet him alone, ca and unarmed, if I was in your brother's place," tt said Mike; ' because he holds malice against hi him-the major does." "On what account?" "Why, you see he took a fancy to Miss Eu- m phie Floyd, and Captain Ainsworth stood in his way." a , "That was Euphie's fault, more than Lionel's, I should think." e . "That's true, Miss Ruth, but it made no dif- 3 ference with the major. I heard him take an s oath that he would be revenged on him." I "But he is unworthy to hold a commission t in the British army," said Mrs. Ainsworth, " if s he would take advantage of a man's being un- armed, in order to gratify his revenge.' I "Major Dillman hasn't a bit of, honor in him, ma'am-would stab a man in the dark, if t'would I serve his purpose, as quick as he would in the ilight, and quicker too. I hope your son, and Sergeant Floyd will have the good fortune to Ikeep out of his way, unless they can meet him on fair ground. He's a bad man-a dreadful bad man; I'm sorry he didn't keep away from here." Ruth had by this time placed such viands on the table as would be likely to be acceptable to one, after spending a great part of the night on horseback, and leaving Mike to dispose of them at his leisure, she went to another apartment,and commenced turning the spinning-wheel; while her mother, being one of those women who "Iooketh well to the ways of her household," withdrew in order to assign to the domestic ser- vants their appropriate tasks. "Miss Ruth, I believe 111l be going now," said Mike, about half an hour afterward, looking into the room where she was spinning. "You had better stay here, to-day," she said, stopping her wheel. "You need rest." "I don't mind going without sleep a night now and then. It is'what I'm used to." "You prefer to go, then?" !'Yes, Miss Ruth. I've a mindto hunt up your brother. I kind o' mistrust that 3I^feel as people do when they're homesick, I want to see home so. He's about the best friend I ever had." "C Well, Mike, wait a minute or two, till I go and call mother. She will like to see you before you go." Ruth soon returned, with her mother. "My daughter tolls me you think of going." A' Yes, ma'am, I've made up my mind to go." "Remember that you will always find a wel- comeas long as we have a home, anJ be assured, that we shall never forget the signal service you have rendered us." "It was a great pleasure to me, to do it." "Here are a few light articles of clothing, you may need before we see you again." With many thanks, Mike bade them farewell, and .departed. CHAPTER XVI. A VlSIT FROM A BRITISH PAARTY. Here we stand, woundless and well- May Heaven's high nane be bless'd for 't.-Decker. THE expedition of Mr., Morney had not only been successful in preventing the supplies intend- ed 'for the American army from beingintercept. ed, but he also succeeded in making prisoners of several of the party by whom it had been un- dertaken, as well as in capturing a seasonable supply of ammunition. Roland Floyd, who had-most ably seconded his commander, was not a little pleased, as well as surprised, when they arrived at Mr. Morney's residence, to find that through Mike Larkin's agency, his steed, the gentle and spirited Oberon, was restored to him. Most gladly would he have accepted the invitation of his host, warmly seconded by Mrs. Ainsworth, to remain a few days, had he not received an order from General Marion to return without delay. He- believed that Ruth would not be displeased to have him protract his stay, though now that he had safely returned, and there appeared, for the present, to be no particular danger impending, a slight manifestation of the same volatile and capricious spirit, that had a little vexed and embarrassed him at their first interview, caused him to feel far less sanguine than he did the morning he a parted with her, as to her entertaining for him any regard, separate from that she bestowed 1 upon hinm as a devoted and enthusiastic cham- a pion in the cause of freedom. A consciousness that she did prefer him to any of those gentle- men-some of them of no mean pretensions-- who from time to time had shared her uncle's hospitality, might nbw influence her conduct, fearing, perhaps, if she suffered him to discover her real sentiments, he might think she was too quickly won. , As it was after dark when Mr. Morney and Roland arrived, it was. decided that the latter should not start for the head-quarters of General Marion till after a few hours of repose. As he would, however, leave by the break of day, he took leave of the ladies over night. "My dear young friend," said Mrs. Ains- worth, taking his hand, "I regret that you are obliged to leave us so soon. My brother tells me that you have behaved nobly, displaying in the late encounter the skill and courage of a veteran, rather than the rashness, which, as I have heard, some men much older than yourself have mistaken for valor." "I may well be proud," he returned, " to re- ceive such praise from such a source, and here- after, it will at all timfes be my ambition to de- serve it." Tears started to his eyes as he said this, for the commendation of one he so highly esteemed as Mr. Morney, as well as the kind manner of Mrs. Ainsworth towards him, touched him more page: 78-79[View Page 78-79] deeply than he could express. Overcoming his emotion as quickly as he could, he turned to Ruth. Iis voice trembled a little as he bade her good night, and it must be confessed that the voice in which she replied, though gay in its tones, was a trifle unsteady. "I may not be worthy of you now,"' said lie, "but I mean to be, if my life is spared." These were his parting words, that were heard by no one but herself. When week after week passed away, and Ruth saw Roland Floyd no more, she might regret that the last evening they spent together she had treated him with so much indifference. Roland, however, young as he was, was not altogether unlearned in the lore of the human heart. Hence, when he re- called her apparent indifference, he at the same time thought of the emotion expressed by the slight tremor of her voice at the moment of part- ing, also of something that sparkled very murch like tears, through the long, drooping lashes, as she bent .her eyes to the floor. These, he thought, he might, without any great assump- tion, construe as a pretty clear indicationthat she was not wholly indifferent to his welfare. The weeks at last grew into months. Lionel had been to see them, and staid more than a week. He and Roland had never once met since the latter left the army of General Greene, yet he had often heard him mentioned. He was ever spoken of as brave, and though na- turally hasty, as knowing how to curb his im- petosity within reasonable bovads. He had received a captain's cOmmission, since when he had been the leader of many a foray, where, as fortunate as he was brave, he had uniformly come off victorious, unless the number of the enemy greatly exceeded his own. Even when this was the case, he always managed to es- cape with little or no loss. One day--it was the middle of September-as Mrs. Ainsworth and her daughter were making some of the cloth they had been manufacturing into such garments as would be likely to be most needed by the soldiers, Ruth, who sat by a win- dow, on raising her eyes from her sewing, thought she saw something quickly pass an opening among some trees that intervened be- tween her and the road. The distance was such as to prevent her from hearing any sound, while the trees were so dense, except at that one point, as to entirely obstruct the view. , Though she did not know but that she might have been deceived by the waving of a bough, or something equally trifling, she could not help thinking that it'might have been one of a party of British soldiers, whom she had seen, more especially as she imagined she caught the gleam of a scarlet coat. She thought it best to mention the circumstance to her mother, and they at once put aside the large roll of cloth that lay on a table, and the half-made garments they had on hand. They had hardly finished doing this, when a large party of British cavalry emerged to view. They were led by an officer, whose scarlet uni- form and waving plumes shone gaily in the bright sunshine. As they could not hope to es- cape a visit from them, they prepared for their reception with calmness. "I must say that they make a gallant appear- ance," said Mrs. Ainsworth; " but brave hearts do not always beat beneath brave apparel." "Nor does a scarlet coat make a man court- eons," said Ruth, " if we may judge by those who have seen fit to visit us." By this time, the leader of the party had ar- rived opposite the house. Here he stopped, and gave orders for his men to dismount, and turn their horses into a field of grass that was seen waving a short distance from the road. The uproarious shouts with which this order was re- ceived, showed that the men were not under that strict discipline common among the English troops. At this, a slight paleness overspread the coun- tenance of Mrs. Ainsworth, but it instantly sub- sided, and Ruth, when she turned from the win. dow, felt her own courage revive, at seeing the clear, steady light that shone in her mother's dark eyes, and marked the serenity of her noble brow. And she was, in reality, as calm as she ap- pealed. Her lips, which were slightly compress- ed, showed courage and determination, and in- deed, there was something so truly noble in the general bearing of her whole person, that it would have done honor to the proudest queen that ever sat on a throne. Ruth could not do otherwise than regard her with admiration, a sentiment which was shared by the servants, who, with Priam at their head, had huddled into the passage communicating with the apartment where she and her daughter were awaiting the entrance of their rude visi- tors. The leader entered first, a youthful officer, the second in command, following closely upon his footsteps. There was a boldness and-an auda- city in the demeanor, as well as in the counten- ance of the first, that was excessively repulsive. The appearance of the younger --officer, whom they- afterward heard addressed as Lieutenant Willbank, was modest and Courteous, and he evi- dently felt ortifieAd at the rdeness- of his supe- rior. - -, ' Mrs. Ainsworthadvaced a few steps to meet them, with a grace and dignity that for a mo- ment checked the insolence ,of the -leader, and made his bold eyes seek the floor. By this time the soldiers began to. swarm -bout the door, and commened' idrowdng into the apartment. "Cannot your men be persuaded to -remain outside, under the .shade of :the treeqsl said Mrs. Ainsworth. "If they will, they and all of us would be more comfortable." Upon this, the lieutenant. addressed. those near him in a low voice, and endeavored to pre- vent them from pressing into the room, but the leader called out to him in a rough voic: ("Let them alone, Willbaltk," saidhe. "This cursed southern sun's enough to broil an-Etg- lishman, or anybody that belongs to a decent country." "The sun is extremely hot, I know," re- turned Willbank; "but, as the lady observed, in the shade of the trees it is more comfortable than in the house when there is a crowd." '"Try it yourself, then," was the gruff reply. Willbank, however,: for the present remain- ed where he was, owing, it might be, to the ap- pealing glance that Ruth involuntarily cast to- wards him. "I believe, madam," said the leader, "that you Ore a sister to Mr. Morney, or I suppose I should call him Colonel Morney, for I under- stand he has had that title recenitly bestowed up- on him by some of the rebel chiefs." "It is perfectly immaterial," said Mrs. Ains- worth, "whether you give or withhold the title, as long as I understand who is meant. I am a sister to the gentleman-you named." "Is he at home ." "He is not." "I am sorry for that. - The rebels are grow- ing more and more troublesome; and I am un- der orders to pnsh them towards the frontier as far as I can, and as I am short of men, I thought he might be persuaded to join me." "I think you would have found yourself mis- taken, sir." "I don't know as to that. I should not have lacked. for arguments. In such cases I have plenty of themn.-some rough, and some smooth, and where the smooth lones don't answei my purpose -I'm not very shy of :using the rough on6s." ' "Though your arguments may differ in quali- ty," said Mrs., iasworth, ': i can assure you that in effii ey, m far as my brother is concerned, they would have proved much the same. They neither could persuade or compel him to raise his hand against his country." If I can find him, I shall see. Where is he now '" "In General Marioi's army.'" "You will see him before long, I'suppose '?" "Perhaps I may." "Well, madem," said -he, assuming a mn l. ner a -little more courteous,' "your own good, sense must teach you that the royal, -cause will finally triumph, and as a woman like yourself must have a great deaI' of influence bver those with whom .she is connected, you can, without doubt, easily persuade your brother to join the right side." !"You overrate my influence, sir. My broth- er's principles are not to be warped, and even if theyare, it should not be done by my influ- ence. I would not degrade myself so far.", '$By withholding it, he may, one day, receive the traitor's reward; You may then, possibly, repent your obstinacy." "Never! I would rather he would perish, than prove recreant to his duty and his coln- try." Exasperated at this undaunted reply, a dark frown clouded the officer's brow, and without being aware of it, perhaps, he laid his hahd on the handle of his 'swoid. One of the soldiers, who might consider it a signal for violence, darted forward, seized Mrs. Ainsworth by the arm, and-held a pistol to her head. "It's my opinion," saidIhe, " that you've lied about that rebel brother of yours being with Marion. He's lurking round liere somewhere, and if you don't want me to shoot you through the head, you'd better tell where he's to be found." Ruth, -the moment the soldier seized hold of her mother, sprang forward. "Can you permit this, and call yourself a man!?" said she, addressing the leader., She was perfectly pale-excess of terror alone pre- venting her from fainting. He did not answer her-he might possibly feel page: 80-81[View Page 80-81] ashamed to-but he made no attempt to inter- fore. Ruth, finding be did not heed her, knelt at his feet, and in language made the more pathetic from its wildness and its incoherence, entreated him to save her mother's life. Mrs. Ainsworth made no struggle to free herself, for knowing, perhafs, that the effort would be un- availing, she would not so far compromise her dignity. "My daughter," said she, "do not debase yourself by kneeling to one so unworthy." At this moment the young lieutenant, who had been standing outside the door, finding what was going on, quickly; thrust those aside who impeded his entrance, and springing forward, snatched the pistol from the ruffian's hand, and rescued Mrs. Ainsworh from his grasp. "Excuse me, Major Dillman," said he, " but I cannot stand by and see decency and humani- ty outraged in this manner." "I need not tell yon," said Mrs. 'Ainsworth, addressing the young officer who had interfered in her behalf, "that you have my grateful thanks, yet more for this poor frightened child's sake than for my own, as I cannot but think that my life, taken by such ruffianly hands, in the presence of the commanding officer, might have opened the eyes of some of my country- men who imagine the British so humane and generous. I think you called your commander Major Dillman?" "I did, madam." "I have heard of him before, and regret to find that he more than makes good the character which was given him." "You had better take care of your own con- cerns," said Major Dillman, addressing young Tillbank, "and leave the lady to attend to hers." Lieutenant Willbank bowed in answer to this 1 uncourteous speech in a manner perfectly re spectful, yet with an air which showed that while he acknowledged himself his inferior in military rank, he felt his own superiority as a geftleman. Not that Major Dillman could not, d if he chose, appear affable, but it was a con- straint that his rude nature rejected, wher- ever he thought he might venture to throw it off I without compromising his position in society. " We must have some supper," said Major 1 Dillman, speaking to Mrs. Ainsworth, "and if s you don't wish us to take up our quarters here for the night, you had better have it pre. pared pretty quick." "It shall be prepared with all convenient ex- t pedition," she replied. a "Let there be a plenty, and of good quality," said- he, " for my men have had nothing to eat since ten o'clock." "It shall be as plentiful and as good," she replied, " as the state of our larder will permit." "I will satisfy myself as to that," said he, fol- lowing her as she left the room, to see to the ex- ecution of his orders. "That will be quite unnecessary," said she, stopping and turning round. "The best we can give so large a number is- milk, Indian cakes, and some bacon, which shall be prepared without delay." "Very well-see that you make good your promise. There is a butler somewhere, I sup- pose." "There is," she replied. Priam stood within hearing, but he looked neither to the right nor the left. P "Well, then/' said Major Dillman, "order him to bring forward a few bottles of Madeira." "We have none." "Some port, then-port will answer." "We have no wine of any kind." "An assertion you expect me to believe?" Mrs. Ainsworth, without deigning to answer this insulting interrogatory, turned away, saying as she did so: "It is time to be at work, or the supper will not be prepared in season." "Here, Caesar, Pompey, Mark Anthony, or whatever your name is, come this way," said Major Dillman, calling to Priam, who was pre- paring to make his exit. "Nobody here by dat long name," said Priam. "No matter what your name is. I want you to put a coufple of bottles of your best Madeira into the wine-cooler." "Massa's wine all gone--ebery drop of it. De British off'cers drink him all up." "Don't lie to me, you black rascal-if you do 'twill be the worse for you." "Dat be true, what I speak. Ebery drop of de wine be gone. De las' time de off'cers come here, dey drink, and drink, and drink, till dey didn't know nuffin'. De cap'n couldn't hold on to his chair, so he fell down under de table and slept dare all de arternoon jess sound as a log of wood." "You needn't stand chattering here-go along about your business." "Tank you, massa--me be bery glad to go where der be better company." . Mrs. Ainsworth, while she gave directions to the servants, assisted with her own hands, as did Ruth also, in preparing the meal. The indignant feelings that they experienced, while thus employed, may be well imagined, and once, when Mrs. Ainsworth's eye fell on a scar- let vessel containing poison, a voice seemed to whisper in her ear, urging her to mingle it with the food that was being prepared, and thus save her friends and neighbors from impending out- rage and depredation, and perhaps the life of her brother, who, at the head of a small party, was, she feared, in a situation to be surprised by the superior force under Major Dillman.- But her noble nature revolted at such a deed, and a little after sunset, she saw them depart. CHAPTER XVII. A BRAVE AND GENEROUS DEED. To-morrow? O, that's sudden.-Spare him, spare him. Measurefor Measure. "Do you bring any news, Captain Floyd?" inquired a gentleman by the name of Melbourne, at whose house Roland arrived late one evening. "I do, and very sad news, too." "What is it?" "You remember the word General Marion gave out, not long since, as to what the British and tories might expect, if they continued to ex- ecute those prisoners they took under such friyo- lous pretexts?" "Yes, they were to be paid in their own coin, I believe ; and in my opinion, it will be the most effectual way of putting a stop to such cruelty." "There can be no doubt of it, and yet-" "When it comes to be reduced to practice, it seems to be severe." "It does, and yet there was no alternative.- Ever since those-among whom were a number of worthy men, who filled a high social position, were so unwise as to accept what is called British protection, all who are taken prisoners are accu- sed of having broken their faith, whether they accepted the protection or not, and this is made a plea for executing them. A little more than a, week ago, as you may have heard, five were murdered under this false pretence, among whom was an estimable man, a personal friend of General Marion, and a boy of fifteen, the only son of a widow, who having occasion to,. travel in the same direction, thgught the men would be a protection. This is what roused General Marion to give the order." "I am thankful that it did." "It was right, inasmuch as retaliation is the only thing that can have any effect. Unfortu- nately, however, among the very first prisoners that were taken, after the order was issued, is a young gentleman whose life I would give much to save."' "Is he an Englishman or a tory?" "An Englishman. The tories are too mean to excite sympathy." "What-is his name!" "Willbank." "Quite a young man?" "Yes, about my age, I should think." SI've seen him-he holds a lieutenant's com- mission?" . "He does." "Well, I believe him to be an amiable young man, and I am sorry for him. When is the ex, ecution to take place"' "To-morrow morning, at ten o'clock." "Have you spoken to General Marion about him?" "I have, and used every plea - in his favor I could think of. ,Itold him that those who best knew him, gave him the name of being good and amiable, and that he had a mother and sister in England, whose:Jlives- would ever afterward be page: 82-83[View Page 82-83] embittered by his suffering death in so ignomin- ious a manner." "You could not move him i" "No. His answer was, that no such consid- eration ever influenced our enemies, which might be proved by numerous examples, among others that of his friend, who had been ruthlessly murdered scarce a week ago, and of Edward Wayland, who was a lad of uncommon promise, and whose loss could never be forgotten, or made up to his mother." "How came you to be acquainted with Lieu- tenant Willbank?" "I cannot say that I am much acquainted with him, for I never saw him till after he was taken prisoner; and yet the painful circumstances un- der which we met, removed from between us'all ceremony and reserve, so that it appears to me, that a dozen interviews, such as might other- wise have taken place, could not have given me half the insight into his character as the few hours I have spent with him." As Roland finished speaking, there was a rap at the outer door. "Is Captain Floyd here?" was asked of the servant who answered the summons. "He is," replied the servant. "Here is a letter for him. Be so good as to hand it to him." "Yes, sir." Roland opened the letter, and glanced at the signature. "It is from Willbank," said he. "Shall I read it aloud?" "Do," was Mr. Moelbourne's answer. "Dear Sir: Since you took leave of me this afternoon, I have been told that you are a partic- ular friend of a lady by the name of Ainsworth, who is a sister to Colonel Morney. A few weeks ago I was so happy as to be the means of saving her life, and as I understand she possesses a good deal of influence with General Marion, to which she is justly entitled by her superior intelligence, noble vibtnes, and above all, the personal sacri- fices she has made in aiding the cause of her countrymen, 1 have been thinking that she might succeed in moving him in my behalf. She would, at least, I believe, make the attempt,could she be made acquainted with my melancholy situation. You, my dear sir, are the only one I know of, whom I dare hope would feel suffi- cient interest in my sad fate, to make it known to the ladly I have mentioned. If you will under- take to do it, something whispers me that I shall be saved, while on you, as long as you live, will attend the blessing of the widow and the father- less, and of him who was ready to perish. Fare- well, and may God bless you, whether I live or die. RICHARD WILLBANK." "Poor young man-you will not refuse his request?" said Mr. Melbourne. "I hope not; but there's no time- to lose. What's the hour?" "Eleven." "And Mrs. Ainsworth is, at least, two hours' ride from here." "Full that." "So that by the time I can obtain a hearing from her, 'twill be half past one." "You can reckon on nothing short of that." "Let me see-one, two, three. Yes, it will take me three hours after I start from Mr. Mor- ney's, to reach the place where General Marion is, or, I should say, rather, where he was, when I left him this evening. What I'm afraid of is, that he will leave before I can arrive there." "I will order your horse to be brought to the door, or,if he has travelled much to-day,you shall have one of mine." "Thank you; but there's no need. With the exception of an hour or two, Oberon has been in the stable since last evening." In a minute or two, the horse was ready, and Roland was riding at a swift rate in the .direction of Mr. Morney's. It was a pleasant night, cool enough to be comfortable,while the waning moon, that had just risen, afforded sufficient light to guide him on his way. Whenever he passed through a piece of woods, he 'knew there was danger of being challenged by some of the enemy who might have bivpuaced there for the night, that caused him to accelerate his speed. Fortunately, however, he passed -on unmolested, and without hindrance of any kind, and drew rein at the residence of Mr. Morney at the time he had anticipated. Roland knew where Hotspur slept, who was then at home, and soon succeeded in rousing him. He let him in, and,'at Roland's request, went and rapped at Mrs. Ainsworth's door-told her who had arrived, and that he requested an imme- diate interview. - In a very short time Mrs. Ains- worth entered the parlor. "Do you bring me bad news Has any- thing happened to Lionel?' said she, in an agi- tated voice, for she could not think why else he should seek her at such an unseasonable hour. "I've no bad news concerning your son," he hastened to reply. "I have sought you at the request of a young man by the name of Will- bank, who is a lieutenant-or rather was-in the British army." "Willbank, did you say? It is a name I shall not soon forget.. To him I owe my life." "And now his own life is in danger. He is to be executed to-morrow morning at ten o'clock." "How is that?" "It so happened that he was among the very first prisoners taken by our men after the order issued by General Marion--" "To return like for like," said she, finishing the sentence. "Can nothing be done for. him? Cannot General Marion be moved in his favor?" "1 cannot moe hinm. A rigorous execution of his orders he considers to be the only means that will put a stop to the cruel and lawless execution of prisoners by the enemy. Valuable lives are almost daily sacrificed." "That is true, and yet there may be cases where mercy should be extended." "And Willbank's-so it appearsto me-is one of them. Here is a letter I received, from him. Will you hbe so kind as to read it?" "Unfortunate young man," said she, re-folding the letter, when she had finished reading, and re- turning it to Roland. "All his earthly trust, then, is in a poor weak woman. I will do what I can for him. How far is General Marion from here?" "Full three hours' ride for me. You would hardly be able to ride fast enough to perform the distance within that time." "Yes, I think I can. I have the reputation of being a good equestrian." "Wont it be better for you to wait till mQln- ing? If I go first, and tell the general that you are going to mnake him a visit, he will certainly wait for you.'-' "If he can, he will. He may be under some engagement, that he cannot wells break. It will not do to risk it. In a case of life and death, there must be no deiay." "Then you will go with me?" "I will. In fifteen minutes I will be ready. I will tell my brother you are here-he will like to see you."' Mr. Morney rose at once, when he found Ro- land was there. By his advice, he concluded to take one of his horses and leave his own. So expeditious was Mrs. Ainsworth in mak- ing herself ready, that even in less time than fifteen minutes, she and Roland were on their way. He soon found, that any fear on his part, that she would find- it difficult. to keep up with him, was quite unnecessary; for the address with which she managed her high spirited steed, showed that the reputation she. had of being a good horsewoman was not unmerited. Could they have banished from, their minds the unhap- py affair that had made their night ride neces- sary, it would have. been keenly enjoyed by them both, for aside from the exhilarating ef- fect naturally produced by the rapid; motion, to one who is at home in the saddle, there was a cool, delicious breeze, redolent with the per- fume of autumn flowers; while the moon, with- out a single cloud to dim its eftfulgence, shed down upon their path a shower of silver radi- ance, far more grateful in that southern clime than the light of the sun. Few words passed between them. An inquiry which Roland occasionally addressed to his fel- low-traveller, to know f she wished to slacken her speed, and which she uniformly answered in the negative, constituted the substance of what was said. Once, indeed, Roland ventur- ed to make some allusion to Ruth, which Mrs. Ainsworth answered in a manner which did not in the least damp his hopes. There was a faint appearance of dawn glim- mering in the east, when they arrived at the mansion of the planter, where General Marion had been staying for the last few days, engaged in preparing for one of those sudden and well planned attacks, that had so signally served the American cause. Yet, early as it was, the general had probably already risen, as a light partially dlscured by the intervention of a thin. curtain, shone from his window, darkened now and then by some one crossing the apartment. A smart looking mulatto lad, who came to the door to see who had arrived, was much rejoiced when he heard the voice of Roland, who was always as muchi a favorite with the servants as with their master. "Imust speak with General Marion," said Roland. "He has risen, I believe-has he not, Timon V" -"He has," was the lad's answer. "Are you not a little chilled with this morn- ing air, madam?" said Roland, turning to Mrs. Ainsworth, who, beforelhe could proffer lhis as- sistance, had alighted from her horse. "I felt a slight shiver pass over me as you spoke," she replied. "'There is a fire in the parlor, that was order- ,.. page: 84-85[View Page 84-85] ed for General Marion," said Timon. "Will not the lady walk in, and sit by it?" "I will speak to General Marion myself," said Roland, when he had seen Mrs. Ainsworth seated by the fire. Scarcely a minute had passed, before she heard footsteps drawing near the door, which she knew by the peculiaralertness,were the General's. "My dear madam,",said he, advancing to- wards her as she rose from her chair, and shak- ing hands with her, " what can have brought you here at such an early hour? Why, I should hardly care to be abroad myself in the night, with only one attendant, when there are so many ruffians prowling about." "It would be more dangerous for you than for me, to venture out thus attended, for, per- haps my sex would prove a protection." "If what I have heard is true, you have little reason to say that. Did one of the gang of vil- lains that called at your hous;e a while ago, really threaten to take your life?" "He did." "And the commander was present, and daw all, without attempting to interfere?" "Yes, and had not a young gentleman, the second in command, interfered in my behalf, at the risk of being reprimanded, and perhaps cashiered, he would have executed his threat." "A young man like that should be among our friends, rather than our enemies." "I am glad to hear you say that, as it is ex- actly what I hink." "At any rate, I should be happy to rank him among my personal friends. But you have not yet answered my question-what brought you here so early?" "I have come to crave a boon ." "The sister of Colonel Morney, who is one of the bravest of my offi eer, and among the best and most valued of my friends, has a right to exact, rather than beg a boon, not only on her brother's, but her own account." "If so, spare the life of young Willbank, Sour prisoner." "Willbank, do you say? Would you hare me, by an act of ill-timed mercy, make void what I have done to protect the lives of our cit- izens and friends?" "Let that be done by- inflicting punishment on the guilty." "Our enemies show no such forbearance." "And is their example worthy of imitation?v "If we have no other means of saving our best and worthiest men, we must imitate it." "I am then to understand that you will not grant my request?" "Had I a kingdom at my disposal, I would say unto you as Ahasuerus of old said to Esther, but I cannot grant you what you ask-it would t not be right. It would annul the effect intend- ed to be produced, and cause still greater license to bhe taken." "It may be as you say, but-" "You may be certain it will. The lives of t your brother and your son may depend on my I deciding against you." "It don't appear exactly so to me, and even if I fully coincided with you, I could not be otherwise than afflicted, that the life of an es- timable young man, to whom I owe my own life, should be sacrificed for example's sake." "To whom you owe your life? Is Willbank the young officer who saved you?" "Certainly he is. ' Did I not tell you so?" "No, you merely said that it was a young British officer. You did not mention his name." General Marion was silent a moment or two. L"I could wish that it had been anything else you had asked," he at length said, "but I will not deny you. I will write an order to stop the execution, and our young friend, Captain Floyd, shall be the bearer of it." General Marion went to his room, wrote the order, and returning, put it into Mrs. Ains- wor:h's hand. Her eyes shone with a clear and beautiful expression as she received it. "It appears to me," said she, "that I speak in the spirit of prophecy when I say, the pre- servation of this young man's life will, at no dis- tant period, be a matter of joy to us all." "I shall be very glad if it so turns out," re- turned he, smiling; " but I must confess to be- ing rather incredulous." "If you only knew how much gratitude you carry with you," said she, giving him her hand. "At any rate, I cannot but say that I feel tolerably well satisfied with myself. Having it in one's tpower to perform an act of grace, is rather pleasant, after all," and bidding her good morning, he withdrew. Roland, who was impatient to know the re- sult of their interview, entered the apartment the moment he found that the General was gone. "The pardon," said Mrs. Ainsworth, step- ping forward to meet him, and displaying the paper containing the revocation of young Will- bank's sentence. "You must be the bearer of it." CHAPTER XVIII. ROLAND A PRISONER. Take my defiance: Die! perish!-- Measure for Measure. ROLAND accompanied Mrs. Ainsworth home, after having seen the prisoner set free. Willbank's temperament was naturally calm. Though his joy and gratitude did not overflow in words, it manifested -itself in a manner far more earnest and impressive. Henceforth the names of Mrs. Ainsworth and Roland would be among those as fondly and deeply cherished as the life they had saved. In the evening Roland was to meet General Marion at a place that had been designated, so that he had only an hour to give to his friends. Ruth, whom her mother had awakened from a sound sleep, to inform her of her intended jour- ney, and its cause, had suffered much solicitude lest heir efforts would have proved unsuccessful. Now, when she found that her fears had proved groundless, she literally danced for joy. "Ruth," said her mother, gravely, while at the same time a smile, just perceptible, hovered on her lips, "do you remember we are not alone, and that you have not given a word of welcome to our friend?" Ruth's footsteps were instantly arrested, while the flush on her cheeks, occasioned by ihe exer- cise, assumed a deeper tinge. "How could I think to welcome him in words " said she, "when I was so very glad and thankful for what he has done?" 6 "Your manner of welcome may be unique, yet it is certainly delightful," said Roland. "I could have wept for joy, when I saw young Willbank standing free, beneath the blue sky; and I could dance for joy now at the thought of it, were my steps as light and airy as yours." "Come," said Ruth, " let us be done with this trifling,-and tell me all about Lieutenant Will- bank. Thoughts of him, now that the fist joy of knowing that he is safe, has passed away, bring a sadness with them. .He has relations in England, no doubt." "Yes, and it was that more than adl else which gave bitterness to the thought of the ignominious death which was impending over him; as I could well see, during my last interview with him, previously to your mother's interposition in his favor. There was another, too, he spoke of. Her name is Alice-one of the sweetest names I know of, except Ruth." Ruth looked round, partly to hide her height. ening color, and partly to see if her mother was present. They werelone. Unperceived by her, though not by Roland, Mrs. Ainsworth had left the room. "Alice was not his sister!" said Ruth. "No, his affianced bride. Look at this ring. He gave it to me, with the request that I would send it to her the first opportunity after theclos. page: 86-87[View Page 86-87] ing scene, and he then did not expect to live twenty-four hours. It was her parting gift, re- ceived in exchange for one he gave her. Unfor- tunately I forgot, to take it with me this morn- ing, and was thus prevented from. restoring it to him." Ruth took the ring and examined it. It was ornamented with a small locket, not more than the eighth of. an inch in diameter. Yet small as it was, it contained a minute portion of hair, which looked as if it might have been clipped frorm the curly locks of some beautiful fairy. Roland could have lingered by Ruth's side till night, without taking any note of time, but Mrs. Ainsworth, who knew how necessary it was for him to be at the appointed place in season, did not fail to let him know when the hour, which was all the time that he could spare, had expired. He rose and prepared for his departure. As he was about to leave the room, he took Ruth's hand. "I have obtained leave to ask this hand of you," said he, addressing Mrs. Ainsworth, "when we have made good our right to rank as an independent nation." "I always make it a rule," said she, smiling somewhat archly, " to grant any reasonable re- quest " His horse was awaiting him at the door, and vaulting into the saddle as lightly as " a feath- ered Mercury," in a few minutes he was lost to view behind the trees. It wanted about an hour of sunset, and the air, for the season, was clear and cool. As he sped swiftly along, he never, in his whole life, experienced such an exhilaration of spirits- such an exuberance of joy. This state of feeling was naturally produced by the incidents of the day, while the clear, elastic atmosphere, together with the celerity with which he was borne along, prevented that reaction, which causes melancholy so often to press closely upon those hours which have yielded the most pleasure. Just as the twilight shadows began to fall, Ro: land entered upon a part of the road that lay through the pine woods. He had already passed through these same woods three times within the last twenty-four hours, without having seen anything to lead him to suppose any hostile par- ty had taken up their quarters within them. He therefore felt perfectly secure, as to any baz ard incurred from such a source, and continued to ride on, without observing that his horse had changed from a brisk trot into a walk. so full were his thoughts of those sweet and brilliant fancies, that passed before him in rapid succession. All at once his horse pricked up his ears, snorted, and sprang to the opposite side of the road; and had not his master been more deeply plunged in reverie than himself, he might have eluded the three horsemen, who were partly within the covert of the trees. As it was, Ro- land, not being able to account for his horse starting so suddenly, instead of aiding his efforts to escape, he checked him so sharply, as to bring him back on his haunches. Almost at the same moment, Roland felt a vice-like grasp upon each of his arms, by some one who had come up behind him. "Bring the cord, Si-quick-and pinion his arms close to his sides," said a voice, that Ro- land knew to be Grisley's. "Better take him off this animal first, I reck- on," said Si. "Well; it will be best. Turnbolt, hold the horse by the head, or the beast will give us the slip before we know it." "1I'll take care of that, captain," replied Turnbolt. "It's my opinion, young sir," said Grisley, after he and Si had finished binding Roland's arms, ' it's my opinion you wont make your escape, nor flourish your whip, this time." "My advice," said Turnbolt, "is to let him swing on a limb of one of these trees." "You are a fool, Turnbolt. Do you suppose I'm going to let him off as easy as that?" "Shall we put him on one of the horses, cap- tain?" asked Si. "Yes; what do you expect to do with him?" "I reckon then you'd better let me ease off the cord from his bridle-hand a little." "Well, do as you are a mind to about it. We'll put him on the old nag that Turnbolt tode, so there'll be no great danger of his getting clear of us." "I reckon not," said Si. "I suppose you didn't expect ever to fall in with me again," said Grisley, speaking to Roland, "when you showed up your horsemanship so, a while ago? You didn't know me as well as you will. I've never lost sight of you since. I could have took you to-day, when you passed with that woman, only I didn't want the trouble of taking care of her." "Where do you think of stopping to-night?" said Turnbolt. ' At Biclklestaff's," replied Grisley. "That's the nearest place I know of. Ever since he re- ceived that leaden favor, in the shape of a bullet, at Morney's, he hates the whigs worse than poison." It was quite dark when they arrived at an open- ing in the'woods, in, the midst of which was a log-house. It was a rude but substantial edifiee, and of much larger dimensions than such build- ings usually are, different parts of it exhibiting the appearance of having been constructed at different times. It was, on three sides, enclosed by the woods, while on the other, as could be seen by the red glare of a blazing pitch knot, which shone from an unglazed window, was a stream of water, at a distance of not more than twenty or thirty feet. This was, for the present, a the habitation of Biclestaff, who, on hearing 1 several horsemen stop near, came to a window, and demanded who was there. E "Friends," was the answer of Grisley. "O, is it you, captain " said Bicklestaff.-. t "Who else is there?" "OCnly two, besides a prisoner. We want you to keep us to-night." In a minute Bicklestaff appeared at the door, a with a burning pitch-knot in his hand. They 1 had by this time all alighted from their horses, h except Roland, whom he approached so near, si as to let the red, smoky light of his pine-knot a fall directly upon him. I "Then you've caught the young hawk at last," j said he. "Well, that's good luck." in "You'd better say raven," replied Grisley; "for he has proved to us'and our friends a bird of of ill omen. It's my opinion that the bullet that came so -near finishing you, was shot from his hi rifle." "That's what I think, Well, he shall be paid Bi the old debt and interest besides." tie They were conducted by Bicklestaff into a large apartment, in one comer of which sat a woman of about forty, and a girl so young v ha to be still hovering on the verge of childhood. They were both busily engaged in knitting, and to apparently took little notice of the new-comers; yet Roland, more than once, when she found that she was unobserved by the others, saw the girl I k cast towards him keen and inquiring glances. There was no resemblance between the two wh females, otherwise he might have taken them for wit mother and daughter. The woman's features, ha though m asculine, were still quite handsome. She bore a somewhat haughty expression of wo countenance. She could not be thewife of Bick- re- lestaff, Roland thought, for a' more wheedling, et, -hypocritical knave, as far as outward appearance at went, it never had been his fortune to fall in with. Something in her demeanor, and in the n- cast of her features, made him certain that she a would not stoop to marry a man like him. e, The girl was one of those black-eyed, rosy- d- lipped damsels, who wear their heart outside their Ig bodice, and Roland felt sure of her sympathy, at if she dared not express it by words. There was 7d some coinfort, as he sat with his arms still bound, )e a subject for the rude jests bandied from one to t, the other of his savage captors and hateful host. a "Aint you going to give the gentlemen some n supper, Jeannette Thornbury?" said Bicklestaff, t, addressing the woman, after the lapse of some g ten or fifteen minutes. i, "If they desire it, I will give them sqme," she replied. s "Shall I go with you, aunt Jeannette?" said - the girl, as Mrs. Thornbury rose to go to pre- pare it. t "Yes, Mabel; your assistance may be needed.' They withdrew together, and entered a kitchen a little detached from the apartment they had r left, though on the outside the separation would hardly have been observed. Here, with the as- sistance of a colored servaht, Mrs. Thornbury and Mabel prepared supper for the entertain. ment of Bicklestaf's guests, a wild-fowl pastry, just drawn from the oven, forming an item so important as to greatly lighten their labor. "Will the gentleman sit at the table with the others?" inquired Mabel. "You mean the prisoner. No, I shall. give him something to eat by himself. Take care how you speak of him in the presence of Joln Bicklestaff. Call him the prisoner, not the gen- tleman." "He looks like a gentleman." "That's true; but 'twill do him much more harm than good to call him so." "What do you think Captain Grisly means to do with him?" "Don't ask me, child-how should I know ." "Aunt Jeannette, yourthink they'll kill him- I know you do.'" "That's their intention, no doubt; but He who suffereth not a sparrow to fall to the ground without his leave, can deliver him out of their hands." "Then the young gentleman will be savedl wont he ?." "If it is right, he will be." page: 88-89[View Page 88-89] This answer made Mabel feel very hopeful, for she could not think such a handsome, pleas- ant looking young man could deserve death at' the hands of a set of ruffians. "Do you know what his name is, aunt?" "If he is the same young man I heard John Bicklestaff and Grisley talking about a while ago, his name is Roland Floyd." "Roland Floyd is the one that struck Captain Grisley across the face with a whip. How sorry I am. He will never forgive him." "No, he never will. I should sooner look for mercy from a wild beast of the forest." "But something may happen to save him-- don't you think sol" Mrs. Thombury only shook her head, and the poor girl felt far less hopeful than before. "Mabel," said. her aunt, " take out a piece of the pastry by itself, and I will hand it to the young man. John will not care to interfere, if hIe sees me do it." The viands being prepared, Mabel placed them on a deal table, in the apartments where were Bicklestaff and his guests. As soon as they had fairly addressed them- selves to the pleasant task before them, Mrs. Thgmbury approached the corner of the room where Roland sat, and placed the piece of pastry Mabel had selected with so much care, on a small side-table near him. Having done this, she went to the table where sat Bicklestaff and his guests, and took a sharp knife that lay on one corner. "What arl you going to do with that ." said Bicklestaff. "Release the hands of the prisoner, so that Ske can eat some supper," she replied. ' *I reckon you wont do any such thing," ex- dfaimed Grisley, springing up from the table. "He's a dangerous fellow." "? Captain Grisley," said she, " you are surely not afraid of him, when you have three stout men with knives and pistols in their belts to do your bidding, while he is unarmed." "Without even a horsewhip within reach," said Si, though he took care to speak so as not to be heard by Grisley, who at present was ra- ther sensitive on the subject of whips. Ad He's my prisoner, and I think I shall have the control of him," said Grisley. "John Bicklestaff, remember!" said Mrs. Thornbury, looking him steadily in the face. His eyes fell before her glance, and he ap- peared confused and agitated. The word " re- member" must have possessed some secret potency. "Come, captain," said he, in a conciliatory tone, " don't you know that a woman will al- ways have her own wayS Besides, you know the young chap can't live without eating." "I have not the least need of food, I assure you, madam," said Roland to Mrs. Thornbury. "Suffer me to remain bound, as I greatly prefer to endure whatever pain and inconvenience it may occasion,. to exposing you to indignity of any kind." "They dare not venture beyond a few rude words," she returned, "which, from such as they, I heed not; but since the brave Grisley's fears are so much excited, it may be best that he finish his meal, when he and his coadjutors can stand guard over you." "There's no great fear of his starving," said Bicklestaff; "for I've a nice, snug place, where I intend he shadl take up his quarters, where there will be no danger of his making his es- cape, bound or unbound, and whlere he will have plenty of bread and water." "'Why wasn't he put there at once, then'?" said Grisley. "Because there's a parcel of stuff packed away in it now, that must be removed. In half an hour after supper it scan be made ready for him." "You don't intend to put him in that damp, unhealthy place?" said Mrs. Thornbury. "Why not As good as he have lived there months at a time." Mrs. Thornbury said nothing more, though had she considered it judicious to exercise the control she evidently held over Bicklestaff, she might have prevented Roland from being incar- cerated in the place proposed. She had her se- cret reasons, for not pressing the point, which , she hoped to make available in the prisoner's l favor. Mabel whispered to her aunt, and beg- gpd her to again interfere in his behalf. "It is best that I should not," was her answer; ' and with that, so great was Mabel's confidence t in her wisdom and discretion, she felt satisfied. "Come," said Bicklestaff, when they had finished their meal, " we may now as well trim e up Captain Floyd's room." "I You mean Captain Floyd of the first divis- ion of the ragged cavalry, don't you?" said Si. "Attend to your own concerns," said Grisley. - "Bicklestaff, haven't you a pair of bracelets for - the prisoner? You know that you deal in jew- t elry on certain occasions." "I shouldn't wonder if we come across a pair." They now, with the exception of Si, left the room. He was left to watch the prisoner. In something over half an hour, Bicklestaff, accompanied by Grisley, returned, "Your lodgings are ready for you," said the latter. "And I am ready," said Roland, rising; "Lead the way, Bicklestaff," said Grisley, "and I'll have an eye to the prisoner." Bicklestaff preceded them, carrying a blazing pine-knot. The cell to which Roland was con- ducted, was at the back part of the house, and being partly under ground, was damp. and mouldy. It was entered by descending several steps. It was walled up on each side with coarse and solid masonry, and the floor consisted of rough, uneven flag stones. The-furniture con- sisted of a pallet, a three-legged stool, and a small table, while a circular aperture, about twelve inches in circumference, that showed the wall to be more than a foot thick, afforded the only means for light and ventilation. The smoky light of the blazing pitch-knot, flar. ing and wavering in the current of air admitted at the unclosed door, gave motion to the gigan- tic shadows, cast by Grisley and his companions upon the wall, as they stood grouped together near the entrance, which might, by :a lively im- agination, have been thought to resemble some grim spectral band of the Plutonian shades, "whose robes were the cloud of the hills." Ro- land's arms were now unbound, though the I handcuffs which had been alluded to, could not I be found. Perhlaps Jeannette Thornbury,. had she been so disposed, might have given some E -account of them. "This is a snug place-not one easy to es- c cape from, as you see, my young sir," said Bick- u lestaff, ," as long as you have me for a jailor. c And now, as we are about to leave you for the f night, I think it a duty to tell you that your i time is short, so that you can have it to medi- t tate upon. Now some people I've known, i wouldn't remind a prisoner that his time was short; but, as I said before, I look upon it to a be a duty." o "Come, Bicklestaff, if you've got through o with your palaver, we'll be off. The air isn't co over and above fresh here:" said Grisley. h "I am ready to go," he replied. "I shall be t easy in my mind, now I've done my duty." r They left the cell, and Bicklestaff closed the c door, which he secured with a strong padlock. When they returned, Jeannette Thornbury and sl e her niece had left the apartment, and, drawing so closely together as to enable them totalk , over their plans, without, as they imagined, any danger of being overheard, they lit their pipes, and prepared to sit till midnight. Though at first cautious about raising their voices; they gradually became less wary, and among other things, the best manner of disposing of the prisoner was freely discussed.., Jeannette Thornbury, when she found'that they had disposed themselves for a long and confidential chat, stole softly from her room, which was shared by Mabel, who, with tears still on her cheek, shed for the sad -fate of Ro- land, had lost all remembrance of her sorrow in sleep. Noiselessly she glided along through a passage that led to a closet, separated by only a thin partition from the room where they were seated. Here she could distinctly hear,.every word that was said. Having listened to as much of their conversation as she cared to her, she retraced her steps to her own apartment. Mabel continued to sleep soundly, and lastily putting on a short cloak. with a hood, which hbe could at will draw over her head, she went out at a back door. The clouds that in the, first part of the even- ing had been so dark and dense, were now brok- en, and .the moon, just emerging above the ho-; rizon, though at,times partly obscured, would, now and then, shine in full effulgence, so that without any difficulty, she was able to distinguish her own favorite horse. Her voice, however, in the darkest. night would. have brought him to her side, and she neither needed nor wished for assist- ance to make the requisite preparations for a ride of ten or twelve miles. In less than five min- utes, after she had, in consequence of what she overheard, added to a few words that lNland found opportunity to say to her, determined on what course to pursue, she was riding at a speed that few women would have ventured on, even in open day. In about an hour, she arrived within sight of a small encampment. The white canvass of two or three tents gleamed in the moonlight, apd, on approaching more nearly, a number of men could be seen lying on the grass. She checked her horse as she drew near the outposts. To the challenge of the sentinel, she gave the cor- rect pass word, and was at once permitted to come within the lines. "I wish to see Lieutenant Willbank," samd. she, to the sentinel. "Where can I find him t" page: 90-91[View Page 90-91] ' In the left-hand tent; but I rather think he wont be up, this time of night." '"I didn't much expect that he would. You as smre that he lodges in the tent you men- *loved VI "Yes, I saw him there at ten o'clock," said Si, trying, as he spoke, to obtain sight of her -#Ae, which was, however, so well concealed by her hood, as to baffle his curiosity. To a soldier who had been roused by the sound of their voices, she handed a slip of paper, 4m which were written a few words, that she requested him, without a moment's delay, to ive into Lieatenant Willbank's own hand. A rather liberal douceur that she slipped into the man's hand, enforced prompt obedience to her request. A dim light was burning within the tent, and Wfllbank, instead of having retired to rest, as Opposed, was engaged in writing letters to his fiends in England. Having read the few words wntained in the note, he immediately sought its bearer. Drawing her a little apart from those who were lying on the ground, he told her that the Fmight communicate what she wished, with- out any fear of being overheard. In as few words 4w possible, she informed him of the capture of Roland Floyd, who, according to a conversation that she had overheard, after having undergone A ceremony of a trial, was to be executed. "Did you hear them say when V" "'Yes, next Monday." "And to-morrow will be Friday. Is there o possibility of your being able to aid his es- ape?. "None. Could the day for his execution be deferred. I might, as in that case, John Bickle- qta, who is his jailor, might be compelled to be absent a short time. There is only one hope. v Grisley, who is as avaricious as he is cruel and \ revengeful, might be induced to aocept a rim- . aom, but it must be a heavy one." t] "If we could have a little time, I think a sum might be raised that would satisfy him ;' but in i the short time that will intervene between this I and Monday, I am afraid it will be out of the question. I am, unfortunately, destitute of funds, yet in six or eight weeks, I expect a remittance from England, though the sum, I suppose, will be such as to constitute a very inconsiderable part of what will be demanded." "He has friends here and in New England," said Mrs. Thornbury. "Yes, but they are poor, as he himself told me. The war has deprived them of almost everything." "Did you ever hear of a young provincial officer by the name of Lionel Ainsworth " "Yes, he is the son of Mrs. Ainsworth, to whom I owe so much." "He is, as you may know, Roland Floyd's particular friend. The young man begged me to find some means of letting him know his situ- ation. He also mentioned you, and a gentleman by the name of Morney." "I will myself communicate with both of them. I will either go myself, or send a trusty messenger " "What is done must be done quickly." "I will -attend to it before I sleep." "If Grisley will accept a ransom, should the sum which can be obtained fall short, I can add the widow's mite. I must go now. I left home unbcknown to any one, and the slightest suspi- cion of my having come hither, might be at- tended with serious consequences." "You mentioned that Captain Floyd was in the custody of John Bicklestaff. Is it in his house that he is a prisoner?" "It is beneath his roof. He is,confined in a dungeon." "[He is Griasley prisoner ." "Yes; if he were Bicklestaff's, I could com- pel him to release him." "I wish Grisley could be persuaded to remain where he is, till to-morrow. It may be difficult to find ,him, should he leave. Either Ainsworth or I must, if possible, negotiate the matter of the ransom with him in the course .of the day." '"I think he intends to leave early In the mornm- ing, yet I will do all I can to induce him to re- main. I must go now. Good night." "Good night, and expect to see either Ains. worth or me some time to-morrow." CHAPTER XIX. A VISIT TO TtE PRISONER. riwend s thaft haeven ard in myx y d I thank you all. I . Andronicus. "So you are going to let Floyd escape, after all," said Bicklestaff, addressing Grisley, the' evening after the latter had agreed to accept a ransom. "That seems to be the understanding, at pres- ent," replied Grisly. "Then revenge isn't so sweet to you as I thought it was." "May be I shall have it yet; for, to tell the: plain truth, I don't think there's much chance' for him. It would take a larger sum than Ains- worth and the rest of 'em have agreed to pay, to hire me to stand in his shoes." "You've set the price so high, you don't think they'll ever be able to pay it." "It's my opinion they wont. The expenses of the war, and the liberal manner that such as you and I have levied upon therebels, have made them poor as church mice. they might possibly scrape it together if they had time enough." "I should think there was no lack on that score." "You are mistaken in that respect. Ains- worth confessed that they should be obliged to apply to their friends at the North, to obtain a part of it, and if anything should happen to cause any delay, it cannot possibly arrive here within the time I have agreed to wait." "And falling to do so, annuls the agreement i" "Yes?' "I hope it will fail. I suppose you don't tell , how much you are'to have?" "No, but I will tell you this much-if I do get it,'I shall 'be richer than I ever was before." "f I were in your place, I could play the card so as to get the money and have my revenge too." "There's no knowing but what I shall. It's a bright thought, and I'm glad you mentioned it." "Do you expect him to remain where he is?" "That depends on you. Shal you be able to take charge of him so long 1" , "I can see to him when I'm at hand, and if I have occasion to go away, I can take the key with me." "That would not do. If you should be ab- sent, the woman would help him to escape." I hardly think she would; but I cannot be surety for her." "I should like to know, Bicklestaff, how such a woman as Jeannettq Thornbury comes to live under the same roof with you." "You think she's too good, I suppose. Well, I'll tell you. Her husband, who died about a year ago, was my half brother-he wasn't much like me-and we Owned the property here be- tween us. So we both have a right here, and page: 92-93[View Page 92-93] Jeannette, having no other home for herself and niece, is obliged to stay. There's no love lost between us--you might be sure of that. I dislike her, and she most cordially despises me." "It appears to me, Bicklestaff, that you are afraid of her." "Well, I aint, if it does appear so to you," he replied, with an appearance of some confusion, and hastening to change the subject of conversa- tion. "Upon the whole, Grisley," said he, "I think the prisoner better be removed from here. I shall be obliged to be away a good deal." "I think, myself, it will be the most. prudent course. I'll see about it to-morrow. I reckon there'll be a chance for him in Camden jail," and rising as he spoke, he pulled his cap over his brows, and buttoned his coat-collar, for there was a brisk, chilly wind blowing without. "Hadn't you better stay to-night?" said Bick- lestaff. "No, I have an engagement." "I am glad of it," muttered Bicklestaff to him- self, after he was gone. "I am going to put on my considering. cap, and if John Bicklestaff don't form a plan about that ransoming that don't overreach you, I'm mistaken. You wont got so much richer as you expect to." But before he had time to put on his consider- ing cap, he heard a horse coming from the oppo- site direction, from that taken by Grisley. He went to the door, and in a few minutes Lionel Ainsworth stopped before it. "I believe," said Lionel, " that this is the res- idence of Mr. Bicklestaff." "It is." "Is he at home?" "I answer to the name of Bicklestaff." "There is a prisoner here in your care-Rol- and Floyd." "There is." "I wish to see him." "All I can say is, that it is a pity you came so far on so fruitless an errand." "Cannot I see him, then ." "My orders are strict that nobody be ad- mitted." "I have ridden fifty miles for the sake of half an hour's interview, and Itannot go without see- ing him." "Too much trouble-he is locked up for the night." "Here's a half crown--'twill hardly pay you for unlocking the door, but it is all I have." "Well, I suppose I must let you in, but you wont find it a very inviting place. Come this way." In a minute more Lionel stood within the cell. With a cry of joy, Roland sprang forward to meet him. "I did not expect this, dear Lionel," said he, throwing his arms around his neck. "You knew that I would come if I could." "Yes-that I did not for a moment doubt. I thought you would not be able to obtain leave of absence long enough to come." "Fortunately, I could be spared for a short time, so I have come to say a few words to you, to encourage you to keep up a good heart." "I have done my best to be cheerful. Your presence does encourage me to be more so than I have been. To-day is Sunday?" "Yes." "And it is now five o'clock, as I know by that sunbeam that has found its way into my dun- geon. I have long been watching for it, as I would For the coming of a friend, and now the friend and the sunbeam have both come together." "Your sunbeam is a true indicator-it is as you say, five o'clock." "See, it is creeping up towards the ceiling, and will soon be gone. It is the last sunbeam I shall ever look upon, for I shall leave my dun- geon in the gray of the morning, and when the sun rises again, I shall be at rest with the dust for a covering." "The wretches!" exclaimed Lionel. "Have they suffered you to remain in ignorance of what Willbank and I have been doing?" "Bicklestaff told me that the time was to be an hour before sunrise to morrow morning." "But did not tell you that a negotiation was pending for your release. Grisley's avarice, we have good reason to hope, will be turned to good account. He has agreed to wait a certain time for the sum to be collected, which he demands for your ransom, and I need not tell you that nothing will be left undone-no exertion spared to obtain it. Bieklestaff must have known about the agreement Grisley made with us, last eve- ning." "And purposely kept me ignorant, to gratify his spite against me. He thinks it was I who wounded him at the time the attack was made on your uncle'Morney's house. But we will not waste our time in speaking of him. Your mother add your sister-have you seen them since I was here i." "I parted with them last evening. They did not know that you were a prisoner-that your life was in danger, till they knew also that there was hope of your being saved. Here is a letter for you, partly written by my mother, I believe, and partly by Ruth." "I will not read it till you are gone," said Ro- land. "There is comfort in it, I know; and I shall need it when you have left me." "And the thought that you will soon be free- will not that also cheer you ." "Yes,; but do you really think that Grisley will suffer me to escape him?" "How can I think otherwise?" "Because, that though he may like money, he will like revenge still more. You recollect what I wrote you some time ago, about my escape from half a dozen men, one of whom I struck across the fate with a whip?" "I do." "Well, Grisley was the man." "He wont be likely to forget it, and it will be well after you escape him, to be careful how you again fall into his hands." Roland dwelt no longer on the subject, yet knowing the ferocious character of Grisley, and the cunning and duplicity of Bicklestaff, he felt less hopeful than Lionel. "This is the first time," said he, " that we have met, since I left General Greene's army." "Yes, I know it is." "did wrong; I should have remained where I was; but I beheld not in the perspective of the brilliant picture that fancy painted, a dungeon and the gallows-tree. I did not shrink fr: m the contemplation of' the risks and casualties that I knew I must encounter, for the star of glory shed over all a splendor fb dazzling, as to obscure i what might otherwise have appeared repulsive. 1 Well, I have tasted of the tempting fruit, and it i turned to ashes." "Things. will assume a more cheerful aspect I when you regain your freedom. Your spirits t are now weighed down by breathing the un- J wholesome air of this dungeon. I will try to have you removed to a place where the atmos. 1 phere is purer." X "Hark! Did you hear that V . C "I heard nothing-what was it?" . "The key turning in the lock. I know the sound well. I watch for it and dread it, for when the door opens I know that I shall see a Bicklestaff, and he grows more and more hateful it to my sight every time I see him." d "He has altered his mind-he is not going to ir unlock the door yet." 'e "And in the meantime I would speak one Tr word of my mother and my sister. They will a, not, at present, know that I am a prisoner. .I could wish that they might hear of it, and my ,- liberation at the same time," I "It cannot be. Without the aid of your northern friends, the money for your ransom - cannot be raised." "I am sorry that it is so. Much pain woUld y have been spared them could it have been other- wise. Well, they are too 'familiar with adversity, to sink beneath its weight, like those who have e plucked only the flowers of life." t "Or like those who have no higher trust than e man. Of your mother, Roland, it is enough to : say that she is like mine; and Euphie, she is one of those whose presence always brings with it a' sense of joy and gladness. I say always,.for even those sorrows in which she herself shares, her self abandonment, by giving little prominence L to her own grief, makes us feel that she can solace ours." '"And have you no praise to bestow on your own sister?" "Ruth is yet very young-a being of tears and smiles. My uncle's home might be happy with- out her; but with her, it is enchanting. She will, one day, I trust, my dear Roland, be the star of your home. She will be one to make your hearthstone bright, when our country is at peace; for then, like me, you will say, in the words of Goldsmith: "' Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see, My h-art, untravelled, fondly turns to thee.'" "When our country is at peace, Lionel, it may be that I shall be at peace, too, even where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest." "Why should you be so despondent? We know, that in this world, nothing is certain, yet there is every reason to hope, that in a short time you will be free." "I know that there is, and yet, when I try to look forward to the bright prospect, which but now you held up before me, a gloom settles down over me, and blots it from my imagination. Shall you see Willbank soon?" "Yes, I expect to in a few days." "I have a ring which he confided to my care, when like me he was in prison? Will you take it, and return it to him, when you see him?" "I will He intends to'visit you soon. The page: 94-95[View Page 94-95] last of this week he thinks he shall have an op- portunity. If he does not come, you may know that it will not be for want of will." "Should he come in, I can thank him in per- son for what he has done on my account, yet that must not prevent you from telling him how deeply grateful I am for the interest he takes in my welfare, and the exertion he has made to avert the melancholy fate to which I am doomed." "Was doomed, you should say, my dear Ro- land." "Yes, was doomed," said 'Roland, with a faint smile. "There, that key again l" "Yes, I hear it now. We cannot hope to be uninterrupted any longer." "You must know, dear Lionel, what I would say to your mother and sister, and I will, there- fore, make no attempt to express it in words. And yet I might tell you how. No, no, I cannot. Say to them what your own heart dictates. And your uncle, too-both of your uncles. Did you not mention that your uncle Ainsworth has inter- ested himself in my favor T" "Yes, he has contributed more than any one besides him, among your friends, has been able tV'." "Well, give him my thanks-him and all my friends." Bicklestaff- had entered before they'had/ended their conversation. / "Come," said he, "I have been waitin, a long time, and it's no use to wait any longer, for I've found that in such cases as this, there are always more last words to say. I suppose you've told the prisoner that he's reprieved. 'Twas of no use-he'd 'ave found it-out, when the time come; Thinking 'twas so near would 'ave made him spend more time in solemn med- itation. 'Twould 'ave done him good, I think. But I advise him not to be too much puffed up about it now. Many a slip between the cup and the lip, you know." '"I hope to see you again, soon," said Lionel, addressing Roland, without payingany attention to Bicklestaff's speech; and warmly pressing each other's hands, the young friends parted. The shades of evening were already gathering, when Lionel left the cell. He had left his own horse, fifteen ifiler back, at a friend's, Where he contemplated spending the night, and in a few minutes he was pursuing his way along the path that wound through the woods. CHAPTER XX. A GLANCE AT AN OLD CHARACTER. Take this same letter And use thou all the endeavor of a man, In speed to Padua; see thou render this Into my cousin's hand.-Merchant of Venice. MRS. FLOYD and Euphie, whom we left at the cottage of Miles Ellsworth, are still there. Miles and Hannah have often said that their presence makes their home so delightful, that they dread to look forard to the time when a change of circumstances and prospects may render it neces- sary for them to reside elsewhere. The evenings had now grown cool enough to make a fire comfortable, and as Mrs. Ployd sat in her accustomed corner with her knitting, and Euphie and Hannah at the work-table, with their sewing, Miles being glad of the opportunity to rest, after a day of severe labor, the conversation naturally turned on those who were absent. From time to time they received letters from Ro- land and Lionel, and by what each said of the other, they knew that they were brave, and suc- cessful, whenever the command devolved on them-a circumstance that often occurred, as re- spected Roland, and that they were held in high esteem by their superior officers. Though everything around them wore an as- pect of so much comfort, as they sat conversing of the two who were absent, it was dark and gloomy without. The wind moaned as it swept round the comer of the house, and occasionally a wild, fitful gust drove the rain violently against the windows. While those seated around the bright fire were dwelling with so much pride and fondness on the heroic conduct of those so well beloved, a stranger on horseback, muffled in a cloak to shield him from the inclemency of the weather, rode up to a house about a quarter of a mile distant, and rapped against the door with his whip. The door was opened by a young woman, who, by the flaring light of the candle she held in her hand, might have been recognized as Rachel Dyson. ' Can you tell me where I can find a young lady by the name of Euphie Floyd?" said he. "I can," replied Rachel, "she lives quite a distance from here." "I am sorry for that, for I am cold, wet, and weary, and should like the shelter of the com- fortable looking inn I saw a little distance back of here. I must have misunderstood the direc- tions they gave me there, for I thought 'this was the house where Miss Tloyd lived. I have a let- ter for her, that it is necessary she should have immediately." "I am well acquainted with Miss Floyd," said Rachel, "and if you will leave the letter with me, I can send it without delay." "It would save me a good deal of trouble, but I don't know as I ought to leave it with you, for page: 96-97[View Page 96-97] I promised to either gih{it into Miss Floyd's own hands, or to some member of the family." "I should be happy to save you the trouble of riding so far in the rain, the more so, as she will get the letter much sooner than if you undertake to carry it yourself. The evening is so dark, that I shouldn't wonder if you missed your way; but you had better go with it, if you think' it right that you should." "If you apprehend that I shall meet with diff-' cnlty in finding the way, I believe, on the whole, it will be better for me to leave it with you. I hope you will not fail to send it as soon as you possibly can." "Give yourself no uneasiness on that score," said Rachel. At this moment a heavy gust of wind swept by, dashing the rain full in the stranger's face, and extinguishing the candle Rachel held in her hand. Hesitating no longer, he hastened to take the letter from his pocket, which he handed to Rachel, and which she could barely discern by the faint 'light that came through the unclosed door of the parlor. "Good night," said the stranger, glad to be able to turn back, which would prevent the rain from beating' in his face. In a few minutes he arrived 'at the house of entertainment, the pur- pose for which it was intended being indicated by the creaking sign-board, on which a head in- tended for King George, had recently given place to one meant by the artist to represent George Washington. Rachel continued to stand at the door, which she kept ajar, till satisfied that the bearer of the letter had no intention of turning back and re- claiming it. Re-entering the parlor, where there was no one present except herself, she approach- ed the lamp burning on the table, and looked at the superscription of the letter. An It is, as I thought, from Lionel Ainsworth," said she, to heiself. "It is mighty important, I dare say, that it should be delivered immediately. Love letters are always important to the parties concerned." While thus soliloquizing mentally, she exam- ined the seal. It was of wax, and on it were stamped the initials of Lionel's name. Had it been sealed with a wafer, she could, she had no doubt, open it so carefully that it would never be discovered. She had read more than one letter that Lionel had sent to Euphie, without having been detected. She tried to peep into it, but it was folded in such a manner that 6he could read only scraps of sentences, and these, instead of gratifying, in- flamed her curiosity. "I must and will read it," said she, speaking aloud, and as she spoke, she broke the seal, and at the same time, in her agitation and hurry, tore the letter. For this she was sorry, as she imagined by the use of a little additional wax, she should be able to mend the seal. But there was no remedy now, and it was no matter, she said to herself, if Eu- phie Floyd did not receive a love-letter every five or six weeks. She should be glad to have her disappointed. By this time she had unfolded the letter, and while the paper rustled in her hand, which shook with eagerness and agitation, she commenced reading it. As she read on, her hand became more unsteady, and immediately her white lips moved, though they uttered no audible sound. "Roland," the letter said, " has fallen into the hands of a miscreant, whom he, some time pre- viously, was so unfortunate as to offend, and would, after an interval of a few days, have died by the hands of the executioner, had not a young British officer and myself succeeded in extorting from him a promise that he would spare his life, while we, and a number of Roland's friends, made an attempt to raise money to ransom him. The sum demanded by the wretch is so exorbi- tant, that we shall find it impossible to make it out, unless his friends at the north are able to assist. I know that neither you nor your mother. have the imeans to do anything for him, but Miles Ellsworth may be able to contribute a lit- tle, and I know he will influence others to do the same; yet, after all, my chief reliance is on your uncle Cardwick. It appears to me, that he cannot refuse to lend his aid in saving the son of his only sister from a doom so dreadful. "My uncle, Colonel Morney, had, a short time previously to Roland's being taken prisoner, sent the family plate to General Marion, to en- able him to purchase supplies for his army. Some articles of jewelry, belonging to my mother and sister, were also disposed of in the same manner, so that, unhappily, they have it in their power to contribute but very little. A young gentleman by the name of Willbank-the British officer whom I mentioned-has made personal application to Lord Rawdon, hoping that he would interpose in Roland's Afvor. He was ex- tremely polite, and professed to be very sorry for the young man, but said that he could not pre- tend to interfere, as a trial had been granted him, and he had been found guilty of treason. It was in vain that Willbank told him that the testimony which had condemned him was false- and that he could prove it to be so. He thought, or pretended to think, that Willbank must have been misinformed. I am, therefore, compelled to repeat, that our chief hope must be in Mr. Carwick. Most of what has already been ob- tained, has been given by uncle Ainsworth, with whom, as you now remember, my mother and sister resided till after his second marriage. "If there was the least probability of raising the necessary sum here, I should not for the pres- ent have written to you, thus subjecting you to that most harrowing of mental tortures-sus- pense." The letter contained much beside what was enmbraced in the above extract, which it is un- necessary to transcribe. Among other things, he named the sum it would be necessary for them to raise, and gave directions as to the man- ner of sending it, which, if strictly adhered to, would insure its reception within tl,c time which Grisley had agreed to wait. When Rachel had finished reading the letter, she for some minutes stood irresolute. She saw. that the life of Roland Floyd depended on its being received by his sister without delay; but this could not be done, she was afraid, except by exposing her own meanness and culpability. She still held the letter in 'her hand, when she heard a carriage stop before the house. Her parents, who had been to spend the afternoon and evening with some, friends, had returned, and without having come to any decision, she hastily refolded the letter, and thrust it into her pocket. She had barely time to do this, when her father and mother entered the room. "Why, Rachel," exclaimed her mother, as soon as she had taken a seat by the fire, " where have you been!" "Why?" said Rachel, starting. "Just look at your gown-see how wet it is." "I suppose the rain drove in and wet it, for I was obliged to go to the door to give directions to a stranger, who called to inquire the way." "Well, you had better exchange it at once, or you will take cold." "No I shan't," replied Rachel, "if I sit by the fire and dry it." She now perceived that the cloth slippers she had on were perfectly saturated. In her eager- ness to ascertain whether the stranger kept on his way, she for a moment stepped out upon the ground, which at that particular .,pot was flooded withiwater, and her subsequent excite- ment respecting the letter prevented her from realizing that her feet were both wet and cold. She even now hardly thought of it. She was endeavoring to settle in her mind what she had best do with the letter. Had it not been for the intelligence contained in it relative to Roland, she would not have hesitated to destroy it; for she had never ceased to indulge a hope, that she should ultimately succeed in estranging the affections of Lionel Ainsworth from Euphie ; an object which she imagined might already have been accomplished, had not many-of the letters that had passed between them, escaped falling into her hands. But now, its destruction would involve the sacrifice of a human life, and she was not prepared to plunge so deeply into guilt as that. After long and painful indecision, she came to the conclusion, that in the morning she would mend the seal aswell as she could, and send it to Euphie, with word that it was left at Mr. Dyson's by a stranger. It wanted only an hour or two of morning when she finally decided on this, after which she fell into a broken and trou- bled sleep. During the night the storm passed away, and in the morning the sun rose in unclouded splen- dor. It shone in at Rachel Dyson's window without rousing her from her unquiet slumber. The breakfast hour arrived, and Mrs. Dyson began to wonder why Rachel did not rise. Hav- ing called to her from the foot of the stairs, and received no answer, she went to her room. , Ap- proaching her bedside, she saw that her face was flushed with fever. She seemed bewildered when her mother woke her, and murmured something to herself about a letter, which to Mrs. Dyson was unintelligible. "I thought, last night, that you would take cold," said her mother. "I am afraid that you will have a fever." "O no, I shan't," replied Rachel. "I shall feel quite well after I rise. I often have a head- ache in the morning. Don't wait for me-I will be down in five minutes." Mrs Dyson hesitated to leave her; but Rachel, who was accustomed to having her own way, manifested so much impatience, that, after try- ing the effect of a little more persuasion, she left her. The moment' her mother had withdrawn, she raised her head from the pillow, and attempt- page: 98-99[View Page 98-99] ed to rise, but the effort she made increased the pain, and made her sensible that it was some- thing much more severe than a common head- ache. When, after an interval of ten or fifteen min- utes, Mrs. Dyson returned to her daughter's chamber, Rachel confessed that she felt very ill, and for the present, was unable to rise. "But I shall be well by tomorrow," said she. "I know that I shall," and she then added, to herself, " it will not be too late, if she gets the letter to morrow. One day cannot make any great difference." She tried hard to believe that she should be well, and after her mother again left the room, she said many times aloud, as if hearing the words would strengthen her belief, "Yes, I shall be well to-morrow-I know that I shall be." "Your father has gone for Dr. Orford," said her mother, when she once more returned to Rachel's room. In a short time the doctor arrived. "Don't tell me that I shall have a fever," said she, perceiving that he looked rather grave. "Do not tell me so," she repeated, while her countenance expressed the keenest anxiety. "One thing I can assure you," said he, evading a direct answer, " and that is, the best preventive will be perfect quiet. Mental excite- ment of any kind must be carefully guarded against. The extreme anxiety that you manifest to escape disease, will have a direct tendency to induce it." After Dr. Orford was gone, though Rachel lay perfectly still, with her eyes closed, she could not control her thoughts. She must decide what course to take with respect to the letter, and once she unclosed her eyes, raised herself in bed, thinking that she would tell her mother about it, and request her to send it to Euphie. Suddenly she checked herself. She would wait till tomorrow, and then, if she was unable to leave her bed, it would be time enough to humble herself and tell her mother what she had done. The morrow came, and with it the loss of reason. The letter on which so much de- pended, was still in her pocket. The pockets worn by females at that period were separate from their dress, and when she retired for the night, she placed it under her pillow, and which now, that her mind was wandering, she held in her hand with so tenacious a grasp, that'her mother had vainly endeavored to take it fi'om her. Mrs. Dyson felt certain that the pocket con- tained- something which Rachel considered of great importance, and which she could not help thinking, joined with the sudden cold she had taken the previous evening, was the predisposing cause of her illness. More than once, when she thought that Rachel was asleep, did she en- deavor to get possession of it; but in every in- stance the fingers closed still more tightly to- gether. The mother sat by her daughter's bedside during the whole of the night. Rachel grew ex- tremely restless towards morning, and talked incessantly. "It is morning now," said she, " and I must defer sending it no longer." "What do you wish to send?" asked her mother. "No one must know," she replied; " but Eu- phie Floyd must have it. I will carry it to her myself," and she made an attempt to rise. "It is of no use," said she, falling back upon the pillow. "I can't go now, I'm so tired. I must wait till I'm rested." Suddenly it occurred to Mrs. Dyson, that it might be a letter her daughter referred to, for in attempting to remove the pocket from her hand, she perceived that there was one inside of it. What it could contain to cause her so much anxiety and perturbation of mind, she could not imagine. At any rate, she thought it to be her duty to ascertain, if it were possible. Dr. Orford called in .the morning at an early hour, and finding how restless and uneasy his' patient was, administered a somewhat powerful opiate, which he was, however, unable to effect, without having recourse to artifice. After taking it, Rachel, for a while, struggled to resist its in- fluence, appearing to have an intuitive perception that the power of exercising the vigilant watch- fulness necessary to guard the letter, was fast failing her. But she yielded at last, and long be- fore the effects of the opiate had passed away, Mrs. Dyson had obtained possession of the let- ter, and by a rapid perusal of its contents, com- prehended how much depended on its reaching, without delay, the person for whom it was des- tiled. Though it might be too late now, she wasted no time in calculating the chances for or against its being received in season to answer the de-' sired purpose. She found that her daughter con- tinued to sleep quietly, and summoning some one to take her place at Her bedside, she herself went with the letter to Miles Ellsworth's. Mrs. Floyd and Euphie were both at home. "Here is a letter for you, Euphie," said she. "I found it torn, and with the seal broken, as you see it. now, and a glance at a few words irre- sistibly impelled me to read more. Here is a ten-pound note--all the money I have. When you read ,the letter you will see what it is for, and may God bless and sustain you, for much will yonu stand in need of his aid;" and without saying more, she turned and left the house. No time was lost in the indulgence of unavail- ing grief. The exertion necessary to raise the sum required, prevented them from sinking be- neath the weight of their affliction. So numerous and warm were Roland's friends, that application to his uncle Carrick was unne- cessary. Each gave of the little that could be spared, and so quickly was the money collected, that it was placed 'in the hands of the person named in Lionel's letter just in time. A few more hours and it would have been too late. CHAPTER XXI. CONCLUSION. One feat, one house, one mutual happiness. Two Gentlemen of 'Verona. MrB. FLOYD and Euphie, in a state of the most anxious suspense, were awaiting news from Roland. Both he and Lionel had written Ihem several times, but the person intrusted with the monevrdemandtd for Roland's release, had not, S,on the receipt of the last letter, arrived. They and ftannah Ellsworth were sitting by the bright fireside, sad and silent; for even their hopeful and ever cheerful hostess had begun to despond, and could think, .after taxing her ut- most ingenuity, of no good reason why so long an interval should have elapsed, without bring- ing tidings of some kind respecting-.him who was ever in their thoughts. She could not help fearing the worst. The' messenger might have failed to arrive, and she could not help thinking, when she brought to mind what she had heard of the many lawless and desperate men who were constantly swarming the country, singly or in bands, whose chief object was plunder, that the chances were against him. Thoughts similar to these likewise obtruded themselves upon the minds of Mrs. Floyd and Euphie, though they wrestled hard to banish them; a vague, undefinable feeling continually haunting them that their indulgence was omin- ous of the fatal termination of the event which had so long agitated {hem with alternate hopes and fears. Suddenly some one knocked at the door. "There, a letter has come at last-I know there has," said Hannah, jumping up, and hast- ening to open it. Euphie rose from her chair involuntarily, and Mrs. Floyd's face -suddenly flushed, and as sud- denly turned pale. The next moment Roland Floyd was in the room, with one hand clasped in his mothere, the other in Euphie's. There were tears and smiles, and; many questions, but at first, few answers. When, at last, the tide of joy began to flow calmer and more serenely, they all seated themselves by the fire, and three began to be some coherency to their thoughts, and their manner of expressing them. . Roland told them how Lionel and Willbank, the young English officer, were themselves per- mitted to open his prison-door, and that General Marion had insisted on his resting a while from active service, in order to recruit his health, which had suffered greatly from his long impris- onGment. "And what will increase the happiness of us all, tenfold," said he, "will be the presence of other dear friends. Lionel, and his mother and sister are, as I expect, already on their way." "It will indeed add to our happiness," said Mrs. Floyd. "The presence of none on earth page: 100[View Page 100] besides, except yours, could so gladden our hearts." "I've one thing more to tell you," said Ro- land. "Grisley, as soon as he had received the money for my ranom, being determined, as it seems, not to be balked of his revenge, secreted himself, in company with half a dozen despera- does, in a piece of woods through which he knew that Lionel, Willbank and I would be obliged to pass. Fortunately Willbank received some intimation of their design to waylay us, and sev- eral of our friends, well-armed, volunteered to be our escort. An encounter took place, and Gris- ley fell, mortally wounded. His companions fled, and we thus obtained possession of the money, which only a few hours previously he had received, and which he had obtained by treachery and falsehood, and by bribing the wit- nesses who appeared against me, at what might well be termed my mock trial. We offered it to General Marion, to be expended in the service of our country, but he refused to accept it. The present necessities of the army, he said, had, by the noble munificence of a few individuals, been well supplied. Those among my friends at the south, who so generously stepped forward to my aid, refused, to have the money refunded, and so I was obliged to retain it." "And are you not going to tell us a word about Ruth?" said Euphie. "Dear Euphie," be replied, "all I need say about her is, that'she is as good, and as beauti- ful as my sister. She visited me in prison-she and her mother-and I hardly eed tell you how much consolation they brought with them. I could never have appreciated the dear girl's love, for I could never have known how de- voted she was to her poor soldier, had he not been a prisoner, and doomed to an ignominious death." Lionel, acconpanied by his mother and sister, arrived at the time they were expected. Never had so many happy hearts beat in unison under the humble roof of Miles Ellsworth as on this occasion. He and his wife were subsequently heard to say, that they wouldnot, on that even- ing, have exchanged places with the king and queen of England, nor even with General Wash- ington and his lady. The only thing that trou- bled them was, the delicacies, which, in great abundance, Hannah had taken unwearied pains to prepare, were almost untasted, there were so many delightful reminiscences called up, and Fo many absorbing incidents to relate. Euphie and Ruth, who, as soon as the colo- nies were acknowledged by his Britannic maj- esty free and independent States, which, accord- ing to the aspect of the times, could not be far distant, would be sisters by the double marriage which was then to take place, were already sis- ters in heart; while the affection subsisting be- tween Lionel and Roland, tried and strengthened as it had been in the furnace of affliction, was as true and as fervent as if they had been brothers. As the prospect of peace prevented either of them from returning to the South, they employ- ed their time in laying plans for the future. A new house was to rise on the ruins of the oldi one, at Charlestown, -for Roland's northern friends were as firm as those of the south, in their refusal to receive back hVe money they had furnished in his hour of need. Lionel, by a donation received from his uncle Morney, was enabled to build a fine summer residence, near the cottage of Miles Ellsworth. Here, during the warmer part of the season, Mr. Morney, after his nephew's marriage with Euphie, was ever a beloved and honored guest, and here the circle of friends was often cheered and adorned by the presence of Mrs. Floyd, Ro- land, and Ruth. THE END.
