FORT LAFAYETTE

ORLOVE AND SECESSION

A Novel

BY BENJAMIN WOOD

MDCCCLXII

1862

 ----"Whom they please they lay in basest bonds. " _Venice Preserved. _

 * * * * *

 "O, beauteous Peace! Sweet union of a state! what else but thou Gives safety, strength, and glory to a people?" _Thomson. _

 "Oh, Peace! thou source and soul of social life; Beneath whose calm inspiring influence, Science his views enlarges, art refines, And swelling commerce opens all her ports; Blest be the man divine, who gives us thee!" _Thomson. _

 "A peace is of the nature of a conquest; For then both parties nobly are subdued, And neither party loser. " _Shakspeare. _

CHAPTER I. 

There is a pleasant villa on the southern bank of the James River, a fewmiles below the city of Richmond. The family mansion, an old fashionedbuilding of white stone, surrounded by a spacious veranda, and emboweredamong stately elms and grave old oaks, is sure to attract the attentionof the traveller by its picturesque appearance, and the dreamy eleganceand air of comfort that pervade the spot. The volumes of smoke that rollfrom the tall chimneys, the wide portals of the hall, flung open as iffor a sign of welcome, the merry chat and cheerful faces of the sablehousehold, lazily alternating their domestic labors with a sly romp or alounge in some quiet nook, these and other traits of the old Virginiahome, complete the picture of hospitable affluence which the strangerinstinctively draws as his gaze lingers on the grateful scene. The housestands on a wooded knoll, within a bowshot of the river bank, and fromthe steps of the back veranda, where creeping flowers form a perfumednetwork of a thousand hues, the velvety lawn shelves gracefully down tothe water's edge. 

Toward sunset of one of the early days of April, 1861, a young girlstood leaning upon the wicket of a fence which separated the garden fromthe highway. She stood there dreamily gazing along the road, as ifawaiting the approach of some one who would be welcome when he came. Theslanting rays of the declining sun glanced through the honeysuckles andtendrils that intertwined among the white palings, and threw a subduedlight upon her face. It was a face that was beautiful in repose, butthat promised to be more beautiful when awakened into animation. Thelarge, grey eyes were half veiled with their black lashes at thatmoment, and their expression was thoughtful and subdued; but ever as thelids were raised, when some distant sound arrested her attention, theexpression changed with a sudden flash, and a gleam like an electricfire darted from the glowing orbs. Her features were small anddelicately cut, the nostrils thin and firm, and the lips mostexquisitely molded, but in the severe chiselling of their arched linesbetraying a somewhat passionate and haughty nature. But the rose tintwas so warm upon her cheek, the raven hair clustered with such luxuriantgrace about her brows, and the _petite_ and lithe figure was sosymmetrical at every point, that the impression of haughtiness was lostin the contemplation of so many charms. 

Oriana Weems, the subject of our sketch, was an orphan. Her father, awealthy Virginian, died while his daughter was yet an infant, and hermother, who had been almost constantly an invalid, did not long survive. Oriana and her brother, Beverly, her senior by two years, had thus beenleft at an early age in the charge of their mother's sister, a maidenlady of excellent heart and quiet disposition, who certainly had mostconscientiously fulfilled the sacred trust. Oriana had returned but atwelvemonth before from a northern seminary, where she had gathered upmore accomplishments than she would ever be likely to make use of in theold homestead; while Beverly, having graduated at Yale the precedingmonth, had written to his sister that she might expect him that veryday, in company with his classmate and friend, Arthur Wayne. 

She stood, therefore, at the wicket, gazing down the road, inexpectation of catching the first glimpse of her brother and his friend, for whom horses had been sent to Richmond, to await their arrival at thedepot. So much was she absorbed in revery, that she failed to observe asolitary horseman who approached from the opposite direction. He ploddedleisurely along until within a few feet of the wicket, when he quietlydrew rein and gazed for a moment in silence upon the unconscious girl. He was a tall, gaunt man, with stooping shoulders, angular features, lank, black hair and a sinister expression, in which cunning and malicecombined. He finally urged his horse a step nearer, and as softly ashis rough voice would admit, he bade: "Good evening, Miss Oriana. "

She started, and turned with a suddenness that caused the animal he rodeto swerve. Recovering her composure as suddenly, she slightly inclinedher head and turning from him, proceeded toward the house. 

"Stay, Miss Oriana, if you please. "

She paused and glanced somewhat haughtily over her shoulder. 

"May I speak a word with you?"

"My aunt, sir, is within; if you have business, I will inform her ofyour presence. "

"My business is with you, Miss Weems, " and, dismounting, he passedthrough the gate and stepped quickly to her side. 

"Why do you avoid me?"

Her dark eye flashed in the twilight, and she drew her slight form uptill it seemed to gain a foot in height. 

"We do not seek to enlarge our social circle, Mr. Rawbon. You willexcuse me if I leave you abruptly, but the night dew begins to fall. "

She moved on, but he followed and placed his hand gently on her arm. She shook it off with more of fierceness than dignity, and the man'seyes fairly sought the ground beneath the glance she gave him. 

"You know that I love you, " he said, in a hoarse murmur, "and that's thereason you treat me like a dog. "

She turned her back upon him, and walked, as if she heard him not, alongthe garden path. His brow darkened, and quickening his pace, he steppedrudely before her and blocked the way. 

"Look you, Miss Weems, you have insulted me with your proud ways timeand time again, and I have borne it tamely, because I loved you, andbecause I've sworn that I shall have you. It's that puppy, Harold Hare, that has stepped in between you and me. Now mark you, " and he raised hisfinger threateningly, "I won't be so meek with him as I've been withyou. "

The girl shuddered slightly, but recovering, walked forward with a stepso stately and commanding, that Rawbon, bold and angry as he was, involuntarily made way for her, and she sprang up the steps of theveranda and passed into the hall. He stood gazing after her for amoment, nervously switching the rosebush at his side with his heavyhorsewhip; then, with a muttered curse, he strode hastily away, andleaping upon his horse, galloped furiously down the road. 

Seth Rawbon was a native of Massachusetts, but for some ten yearspreviously to the date at which our tale commences, he had been mostly aresident of Richmond, where his acuteness and active business habits hadenabled him to accumulate an independent fortune. His wealth andvigorous progressive spirit had given him a certain degree of influenceamong the middle classes of the community, but his uncouth manner, and asuspicion that he was not altogether free from the degradation ofslave-dealing, had, to his great mortification and in spite of hispersistent efforts, excluded him from social intercourse with thearistocracy of the Old Dominion. He was not a man, however, to give wayto obstacles, and with characteristic vanity and self-reliance, he had, shortly after her return from school, greatly astonished the proudOriana with a bold declaration of love and an offer of his hand andfortune. Not intimidated by a sharp and decidedly ungracious refusal, hehad at every opportunity advocated his hopeless suit, and with so muchpersistence and effrontery, that the object of his unwelcome passion hadbeen goaded from indifference to repugnance and absolute loathing. Harold Hare, whose name he had mentioned with so much bitterness in thecourse of the interview we have represented, was a young Rhode Islander, who had, upon her brother's invitation, sojourned a few weeks at themansion some six months previously, while on his way to engage in asurveying expedition in Western Virginia. He had promised to return ingood time, to join Beverly and his guest, Arthur Wayne, at the close oftheir academic labors. 

A few moments after Rawbon's angry departure, the family carriage droverapidly up to the hall door, and the next instant Beverly was in hissister's arms, and had been affectionately welcomed by hisold-fashioned, kindly looking aunt. As he turned to introduce hisfriend, Arthur, the latter was gazing with an air of absent admirationupon the kindled features of Oriana. The two young men were of the sameage, apparently about one-and-twenty; but in character and appearancethey were widely different. Beverly was, in countenance and manner, curiously like his sister, except that the features were bolder and morestrongly marked. Arthur, on the contrary, was delicate in feature almostto effeminacy. His brow was pale and lofty, and above the auburn lockswere massed like a golden coronet. His eyes were very large and blue, with a peculiar softness and sadness that suited well the expression ofthoughtfulness and repose about his lips. He was taller than his friend, and although well-formed and graceful, was slim and evidently not inrobust health. His voice, as he spoke in acknowledgment of theintroduction, was low and musical, but touched with a mournfulness thatwas apparent even in the few words of conventional courtesy that hepronounced. 

Having thus domiciliated them comfortably in the old hall, we will leavethem to recover from the fatigues of the journey, and to taste of theplentiful hospitalities of Riverside manor. 

CHAPTER II. 

Early in the fresh April morning, the party at Riverside manor werecongregated in the hall, doing full justice to Aunt Nancy's substantialbreakfast. 

"Oriana, " said Beverly, as he paused from demolishing a well-butteredbatter cake, and handed his cup for a second supply of the fragrantMocha, "I will leave it to your _savoir faire_ to transform our friendArthur into a thorough southerner, before we yield him back to his GreenMountains. He is already half a convert to our institutions, and willgive you not half so much trouble as that obstinate Harold Hare. "

She slightly colored at the name, but quietly remarked:

"Mr. Wayne must look about him and judge from his own observation, notmy arguments. I certainly do not intend to annoy him during his visit, with political discussions. "

"And yet you drove Harold wild with your flaming harangues, and gavehim more logic in an afternoon ride than he had ever been bored with inCambridge in a month. "

"Only when he provoked and invited the assault, " she replied, smiling. "But I trust, Mr. Wayne, that the cloud which is gathering above ourcountry will not darken the sunshine of your visit at Riverside manor. It is unfortunate that you should have come at an unpropitious moment, when we cannot promise you that perhaps there will not be some coldlooks here and there among the townsfolk, to give you a false impressionof a Virginia welcome. "

"Not at all, Oriana; Arthur will have smiles and welcome enough here atthe manor house to make him proof against all the hard looks inRichmond. I prevailed on him to come at all hazards, and we are bound tohave a good time and don't want you to discourage us; eh, Arthur?"

"I am but little of a politician, Miss Weems, " said Arthur, "although Itake our country's differences much at heart. I shall surely not provokediscussion with you, like our friend Harold, upon an unpleasantsubject, while you give me _carte blanche_ to enjoy your conversationupon themes more congenial to my nature. "

She inclined her head with rather more of gravity than the nature of theconversation warranted, and her lips were slightly compressed as sheobserved that Arthur's blue eyes were fixed pensively, but intently, onher face. 

The meal being over, Oriana and Wayne strolled on the lawn toward theriver bank, while the carriage was being prepared for a morning drive. They stood on the soft grass at the water's edge, and as Arthur gazedwith a glow of pleasure at the beautiful prospect before him, his faircompanion pointed out with evident pride the many objects of beauty andinterest that were within view on the opposite bank. 

"Are you a sailor, Mr. Wayne? If so, we must have out the boat thisafternoon, and you will find some fairy nooks beyond the bend that willrepay you for exploring them, if you have a taste for a lovelywaterscape. I know you are proud of the grand old hills of your nativeState, but we have something to boast of too in our Virginia scenery. "

"If you will be my helmswoman, I can imagine nothing more delightfulthan the excursion you propose. But I am inland bred, and must placemyself at the mercy of your nautical experience. "

"Oh, I am a skillful captain, Mr. Wayne, and will make a good sailor ofyou before you leave us. Mr. Hare will tell you that I am to be trustedwith the helm, even when the wind blows right smartly, as it sometimesdoes even on that now placid stream. But with his memories of themagnificent Hudson, he was too prone to quiz me about what he called ourpretty rivulet. You know him, do you not?"

"Oh, well. He was Beverly's college-mate and mine, though somewhat oursenior. "

"And your warm friend, I believe?"

"Yes, and well worthy our friendship. Somewhat high-tempered andquick-spoken, but with a heart--like your brother's, Miss Weems, asgenerous and frank as a summer day. "

"I do not think him high-tempered beyond the requisites of manhood, " shereplied, with something like asperity in her tone. "I cannot endureyour meek, mild mannered men, who seem to forget their sex, and almostmake me long to change my own with them, that their sweet dispositionsmay be better placed. "

He glanced at her with a somewhat surprised air, that brought a slightblush to her cheek; but he seemed unconscious of it, and said, almostmechanically:

"And yet, that same high spirit, which you prize so dearly, had, in hiscase, almost caused you a severe affliction. "

"What do you mean?"

"Have you not heard how curiously Beverly's intimacy with Harold wasbrought about? And yet it was not likely that he should have told you, although I know no harm in letting you know. "

She turned toward him with an air of attention, as if in expectation. 

"It was simply this. Not being class-mates, they had been almoststrangers to each other at college, until, by a mere accident, anargument respecting your Southern institutions led to an angry dispute, and harsh words passed between them. Being both of the ardenttemperament you so much admire, a challenge ensued, and, in spite of myentreaty and remonstrance, a duel. Your brother was seriously wounded, and Harold, shocked beyond expression, knelt by his side as he laybleeding on the sward, and bitterly accusing himself, begged hisforgiveness, and, I need not add, received it frankly. Harold wasunremitting in his attentions to your brother during the period of hisillness, and from the day of that hostile meeting, the most devotedfriendship has existed between them. But it was an idle quarrel, MissWeems, and was near to have cost you an only brother. "

She remained silent for a few moments, and was evidently affected by therecital. Then she spoke, softly as if communing with herself: "Harold isa brave and noble fellow, and I thank God that he did not kill mybrother!" and a bright tear rolled upon her cheek. She dashed it away, almost angrily, and glancing steadily at Arthur:

"Do you condemn duelling?"

"Assuredly. "

"But what would you have men do in the face of insult? Would you nothave fought under the same provocation?"

"No, nor under any provocation. I hold too sacred the life that God hasgiven. With God's help, I shall not shed human blood, except in thestrict line of necessity and duty. "

"It is evident, sir, that you hold your own life most sacred, " she said, with a curl of her proud lip that was unmistakable. 

She did not observe the pallor that overspread his features, nor theexpression, not of anger, but of anguish, that settled upon his face, for she had turned half away from him, and was gazing vacantly acrossthe river. There was an unpleasant pause, which was broken by the noiseof voices in alarm near the house, the trampling of hoofs, and therattle of wheels. 

The carriage had been standing at the door, while Beverly was arrangingsome casual business, which delayed him in his rooms. While theattention of the groom in charge had been attracted by some freak of hiscompanions, a little black urchin, not over five years of age, hadclambered unnoticed into the vehicle, and seizing the long whip, beganto flourish it about with all his baby strength. The horses, which werehigh bred and spirited, had become impatient, and feeling the lash, started suddenly, jerking themselves free from the careless grasp of theinattentive groom. The sudden shout of surprise and terror that arosefrom the group of idle negroes, startled the animals into a gallop, andthey went coursing, not along the road, but upon the lawn, straighttoward the river bank, which, in the line of their course, wasprecipitous and rocky. As Oriana and Arthur turned at the sound, theybeheld the frightened steeds plunging across the lawn, and upon thecarriage seat the little fellow who had caused the mischief wascrouching bewildered and helpless, and screaming with affright. Orianaclasped her hands, and cried tearfully:

"Oh! poor little Pomp will be killed!"

In fact the danger was imminent, for the lawn at that spot merged into arocky space, forming a little bluff which overhung the stream somefifteen, feet. Oriana's hand was laid instinctively upon Arthur'sshoulder, and with the other she pointed, with a gesture of bewilderedanxiety, at the approaching vehicle. Arthur paused only long enough tounderstand the situation, and then stepping calmly a few paces to theleft, stood directly in the path of the rushing steeds. 

"Oh, Mr. Wayne! no, no!" cried Oriana, in a tone half of fear and halfsupplication; but he stood there unmoved, with the same quiet, mournfulexpression that he habitually wore. The horses faltered somewhat whenthey became conscious of this fixed, calm figure directly in theircourse. They would have turned, but their impetus was too great, andthey swerved only enough to bring the head of the off horse in a linewith Arthur's body. As coolly as if he was taking up a favorite book, but with a rapid movement, he grasped the rein below the bit with bothhands firmly, and swung upon it with his whole weight. The frightenedanimal turned half round, stumbled, and rolled upon his side, his matefalling upon his knees beside him; the carriage was overturned with acrash, and little Pompey pitched out upon the greensward, unhurt. 

By this time, Beverly, followed by a crowd of excited negroes, hadreached the spot. 

"How is it, Arthur, " said Beverly, placing his hand affectionately onhis friend's shoulder, "are you hurt?"

"No, " he replied, the melancholy look softening into a pleasant smile;but as he rose and adjusted his disordered dress, he coughedpainfully--the same dry, hacking cough that had often made those wholoved him turn to him with an anxious look. It was evident that hisdelicate frame was ill suited to such rough exercise. 

"We shall be cheated out of our ride this morning, " said Beverly, "forthat axle has been less fortunate than you, Arthur; it is seriouslyhurt. "

They moved slowly toward the house, Oriana looking silently at the grassas she walked mechanically at her brother's side. When Arthur descendedinto the drawing-room, after having changed his soiled apparel, he foundher seated there alone, by the casement, with her brow upon her hand. Hesat down at the table and glanced abstractedly over the leaves of ascrap-book. Thus they sat silently for a quarter hour, when she arose, and stood beside him. 

"Will you forgive me, Mr. Wayne?"

He looked up and saw that she had been weeping. The haughty curl of thelip and proud look from the eye were all gone, and her expression was ofhumility and sorrow. She held out her hand to him with an air almost ofentreaty. He raised it respectfully to his lips, and with the low, musical voice, sadder than ever before, he said:

"I am sorry that you should grieve about anything. There is nothing toforgive. Let us forget it. "

"Oh, Mr. Wayne, how unkind I have been, and how cruelly I have wrongedyou!"

She pressed his hand between both her palms for a moment, and lookedinto his face, as if studying to read if some trace of resentment werenot visible. But the blue eyes looked down kindly and mournfully uponher, and bursting into tears, she turned from him, and hurriedly leftthe room. 

CHAPTER III. 

The incident related in the preceding chapter seemed to have effected amarked change in the demeanor of Oriana toward her brother's guest. Sherealized with painful force the wrong that her thoughtlessness, morethan her malice, had inflicted on a noble character, and it required allof Arthur's winning sweetness of disposition to remove from her mind theimpression that she stood, while in his presence, in the light of anunforgiven culprit. They were necessarily much in each other's company, in the course of the many rambles and excursions that were devised torelieve the monotony of the old manor house, and Oriana was surprised tofeel herself insensibly attracted toward the shy and pensive man, whosecharacter, so far as it was betrayed by outward sign, was the veryreverse of her own impassioned temperament. She discovered that theunruffled surface covered an under-current of pure thought and exquisitefeeling, and when, on the bosom of the river, or in the solitudes ofthe forest, his spirit threw off its reserve under the spell of nature'sinspiration, she felt her own impetuous organization rebuked and held inawe by the simple and quiet grandeur that his eloquence revealed. 

One afternoon, some two weeks after his arrival at the Riverside manor, while returning from a canter in the neighborhood, they paused upon aneminence that overlooked a portion of the city of Richmond. There, uponan open space, could be seen a great number of the citizens assembled, apparently listening to the harangue of an orator. The occasional cheerthat arose from the multitude faintly reached their ears, and that massof humanity, restless, turbulent and excited, seemed, even at thatdistance, to be swayed by some mighty passion. 

"Look, Miss Weems, " said Arthur, "at this magnificent circle of gorgeousscenery, that you are so justly proud of, that lies around you in thegolden sunset like a dream of a fairy landscape. See how the slantingrays just tip the crest of that distant ridge, making it glow like acoronet of gold, and then, leaping into the river beneath; spangle itsbosom with dazzling sheen, save where a part rests in the purple shadowof the mountain. Look to the right, and see how those crimson cloudsseem bending from heaven to kiss the yellow corn-fields that stretchalong the horizon. And at your feet, the city of Richmond extends alongthe valley. "

"We admit the beauty of the scene and the accuracy of the description, "said Beverly, "but, for my part, I should prefer the less romantic viewof some of Aunt Nancy's batter-cakes, for this ride has famished me. "

"Now look below, " continued Arthur, "at that swarm of human beingsclustering together like angry bees. As we stand here gazing at theglorious pageant which nature spreads out before us, one might supposethat only for some festival of rejoicing or thanksgiving would menassemble at such an hour and in such a scene. But what are the beautiesof the landscape, bathed in the glories of the setting-sun, to them?They have met to listen to words of passion and bitterness, to doctrinesof strife, to denunciations and criminations against their fellow-men. And, doubtless, a similar scene of freemen invoking the spirit ofcontention that we behold yonder in that pleasant valley of the OldDominion, is being enacted at the North and at the South, at the Eastand at the West, all over the length and breadth of our country. Theseeds of discord are being carefully and persistently gathered anddisseminated, and on both sides, these erring mortals will claim to beacting in the name of patriotism. Beverly, do you surmise nothingominous of evil in that gathering?"

"Ten to one, some stirring news from Charleston. We must ride over aftersupper, Arthur, and learn the upshot of it. "

"And I will be a sybil for the nonce, " said Oriana, with a kindling eye, "and prophecy that Southern cannon have opened upon Sumter. "

In the evening, in despite of a threatening sky, Arthur and Beverlymounted their horses and galloped toward Richmond. As they approachedthe city, the rain fell heavily and they sought shelter at a waysidetavern. Observing the public room to be full, they passed into a privateparlor and ordered some slight refreshment. In the adjoining tap-roomthey could hear the voices of excited men, discussing some topic ofabsorbing interest. Their anticipations were realized, for they quicklygathered from the tenor of the disjointed conversation that thebombardment of Fort Sumter had begun. 

"I'll bet my pile, " said a rough voice, "that the gridiron bunting won'tfloat another day in South Carolina. "

"I'll go you halves on that, hoss, and you and I won't grow greyer norwe be, before Old Virginny says 'me too. '"

"Seth Rawbon, you'd better be packing your traps for Massachusetts. She'll want you afore long. "

"Boys, " ejaculated the last-mentioned personage, with an oath, "I leftoff being a Massachusetts man twelve years ago. I'm with _you_, and youknow it. Let's drink. Boys, here's to spunky little South Carolina; mayshe go in and win! Stranger, what'll you drink?"

"I will not drink, " replied a clear, manly voice, which had been silenttill then. 

"And why will you not drink?" rejoined the other, mocking the dignifiedand determined tone in which the invitation was refused. 

"It is sufficient that I will not. "

"Mayhap you don't like my sentiment?"

"Right. "

"Look you, Mr. Harold Hare, I know you well, and I think we'll take youdown from your high horse before you're many hours older in these parts. Boys, let's make him drink to South Carolina. "

"Who is he, anyhow?"

"He's an abolitionist; just the kind that'll look a darned sight morenatural in a coat of tar and feathers. Cut out his heart and you'll findJohn Brown's picture there as large as life. "

At the mention of Harold's name, Arthur and Beverly had started upsimultaneously, and throwing open the bar-room door, entered hastily. Harold had risen from his seat and stood confronting Rawbon with an airin which anger and contempt were strangely blended. The latter leanedwith awkward carelessness against the counter, sipping a glass ofspirits and water with a malicious smile. 

"You are an insolent scoundrel, " said Harold, "and I would horsewhipyou, if you were worth the pains. "

Rawbon looked around and for a second seemed to study the faces ofthose about him. Then lazily reaching over toward Harold, he took him bythe arm and drew him toward the counter. 

"Say, you just come and drink to South Carolina. "

The heavy horsewhip in Harold's hand rose suddenly and descended like aflash. The knotted lash struck Rawbon full in the mouth, splitting thelips like a knife. In an instant several knives were drawn, and Rawbon, spluttering an oath through the spurting blood that choked hisutterance, drew a revolver from its holster at his side. 

The entrance of the two young men was timely. They immediately placedthemselves in front of Harold, and Arthur, with his usual mildexpression, looked full in Rawbon's eye, although the latter's pistolwas in a line with his breast. 

"Stand out of the way, you two, " shouted Rawbon, savagely. 

"What is the meaning of this, gentlemen?" said Beverly, quietly, to theexcited bystanders, to several of whom he was personally known. 

"Squire Weems, " replied one among them, "you had better stand aside. Rawbon has a lien on that fellow's hide. He's an abolitionist, anyhow, and ain't worth your interference. "

"He is my very intimate friend, and I will answer for him to any onehere, " said Beverly, warmly. 

"I will answer for myself, " said Hare, pressing forward. 

"Then answer that!" yelled Rawbon, levelling and shooting with a rapidmovement. But Wayne's quiet eye had been riveted upon him all the while, and he had thrown up the ruffian's arm as he pulled the trigger. 

Beverly's eyes flashed like live coals, and he sprang at Rawbon'sthroat, but the crowd pressed between them, and for a while the utmostconfusion prevailed, but no blows were struck. The landlord, a sullen, black-browed man, who had hitherto leaned silently on the counter, taking no part in the fray, now interposed. 

"Come, I don't want no more loose shooting here!" and, by way ofassisting his remark, he took down his double-barrelled shot-gun andjumped upon the counter. The fellow was well known for a desperatethough not quarrelsome character, and his action had the effect ofsomewhat quieting the excited crowd. 

"Boys, " continued he, "it's only Yankee against Yankee, anyhow; ifthey're gwine to fight, let the stranger have fair play. Here stranger, if you're a friend of Squire Weems, you kin have a fair show in myhouse, I reckon, so take hold of this, " and taking a revolver from hisbelt, he passed it to Beverly, who cocked it and slipped it intoHarold's hand. Rawbon, who throughout the confusion had been watchingfor the opportunity of a shot at his antagonist, now found himself frontto front with the object of his hate, for the bystanders hadinstinctively drawn back a space, and even Wayne and Weems, willing totrust to their friend's coolness and judgment, had stepped aside. 

Harold sighted his man as coolly as if he had been aiming at a squirrel. Rawbon did not flinch, for he was not wanting in physical courage, buthe evidently concluded that the chances were against him, and with abitter smile, he walked slowly toward the door. Turning at thethreshold, he scowled for a moment at Harold, as if hesitating whetherto accept the encounter. 

"I'll fix you yet, " he finally muttered, and left the room. A fewmoments afterward, the three friends were mounted and riding brisklytoward Riverside manor. 

CHAPTER IV. 

Oriana, after awaiting till a late hour the return of her brother andhis friend, had retired to rest, and was sleeping soundly when the partyentered the house, after their remarkable adventure. She was thereforeunconscious, upon descending from her apartment in the morning, of theaddition to her little household. Standing upon the veranda, sheperceived what she supposed to be her brother's form moving among theshrubbery in the garden. She hastened to accost him, curious toascertain the nature of the excitement in Richmond on the precedingafternoon. Great was her astonishment and unfeigned her pleasure, uponturning a little clump of bushes, to find herself face to face withHarold Hare. 

He had been lost in meditation, but upon seeing her his brow lit up as amidnight sky brightens when a passing cloud has unshrouded the fullmoon. With a cry of joy she held out both her hands to him, which hepressed silently for a moment as he gazed tenderly upon the upturned, smiling face, and then, pushing back the black tresses, he touched herwhite forehead with his lips. 

Arthur Wayne was looking out from his lattice above, and his eye chancedto turn that way at the moment of the meeting. He started as if struckwith a sudden pang, and his cheek, always pale, became of an ashen hue. Long he gazed with labored breath upon the pair, as if unable to realizewhat he had seen; then, with a suppressed moan, he sank into a chair, and leaned his brow heavily upon his hand. Thus for half an hour heremained motionless; it was only after a second summons that he rousedhimself and descended to the morning meal. 

At the breakfast table Oriana was in high spirits, and failed to observethat Arthur was more sad than usual. Her brother, however, waspreoccupied and thoughtful, and even Harold, although happy in thesociety of one he loved, could not refrain from moments of abstraction. Of course the adventure of the preceding night was concealed fromOriana, but it yet furnished the young men with matter for reflection;and, coupled with the exciting intelligence from South Carolina, itsuggested, to Harold especially, a vision of an unhappy future. It wasnatural that the thought should obtrude itself of how soon a barriermight be placed between friends and loved ones, and the most sacred tiessundered, perhaps forever. 

Miss Randolph, Oriana's aunt, usually reserved and silent, seemed onthis occasion the most inquisitive and talkative of the party. Herinterest in the momentous turn that affairs had taken was naturallyaroused, and she questioned the young men closely as to their view ofthe probable consequences. 

"Surely, " she remarked, "a nation of Christian people will choose somealternative other than the sword to adjust their differences. "

"Why, aunt, " replied Oriana, with spirit, "what better weapon than thesword for the oppressed?"

"I fear there is treason lurking in that little heart of yours, " saidHarold, with a pensive smile. 

"I am a true Southerner, Mr. Hare; and if I were a man, I would takedown my father's rifle and march into General Beauregard's camp. We havebeen too long anathematized as the vilest of God's creatures, because wewill not turn over to the world's cold charity the helpless beings thatwere bequeathed into our charge by our fathers. I would protect my slaveagainst Northern fanaticism as firmly as I would guard my children fromthe interference of a stranger, were I a mother. "

"The government against which you would rebel, " said Harold, "contemplates no interference with your slaves. "

"Why, Mr. Hare, " rejoined Oriana, warmly, "we of the South can see thespirit of abolitionism sitting in the executive chair, as plainly as wesee the sunshine on an unclouded summer day. As well might we changeplaces with our bondmen, as submit to this deliberate crusade againstour institutions. Mr. Wayne, you are a man not prone to prejudice, Isincerely believe. Would you from your heart assert that this governmentis not hostile to Southern slavery?"

"I believe you are, on both sides, too sensitive upon the unhappysubject. You are breeding danger, and perhaps ruin, out of abstractideas, and civil war will have laid the country waste before eitherparty will have awakened to a knowledge that no actual cause ofcontention exists. "

"Perhaps, " said Beverly, "the mere fact that the two sections arehostile in sentiment, is the best reason why they should be hostile indeed, if a separation can only be accomplished by force of arms. "

"And do you really fancy, " said Harold, sharply, "that a separation ispossible, in the face of the opposition of twenty millions of loyalcitizens?"

"Yes, " interrupted Oriana, "in the face of the opposing world. Weestablished our right to self-government in 1776; and in 1861 we areprepared to prove our power to sustain that right. "

"You are a young enthusiast, " said Harold, smiling. "This rebellion willbe crushed before the flowers in that garden shall be touched with theearliest frost. "

"I think you have formed a false estimate of the movement, " remarkedBeverly, gravely; "or rather, you have not fully considered of thesubject. "

"Harold, " said Arthur, sadly, "I regret, and perhaps censure, equallywith yourself, the precipitancy of our Carolinian brothers; but this isnot an age, nor a country, where six millions of freeborn people can becontrolled by bayonets and cannon. "

They were about rising from the table, when a servant announced thatsome gentlemen desired to speak with Mr. Weems in private. He passedinto the drawing-room, and found himself in the presence of three men, two of whom he recognized as small farmers of the neighborhood, and theother as the landlord of a public house. With a brief salutation, heseated himself beside them, and after a few commonplace remarks, paused, as if to learn their business with him. 

After a little somewhat awkward hesitation, the publican broke silence. 

"Squire Weems, we've called about a rather unpleasant sort of business"

"The sooner we transact it, then, the better for all, I fancy, gentlemen. "

"Just so. Old Judge Weems, your father, was a true Virginian, squire, and we know you are of the right sort, too. " Beverly bowed inacknowledgment of the compliment. "Squire, the boys hereabouts met downthar at my house last night, to take into consideration them twoNorthern fellows that are putting up with you. "

"Well, sir?"

"We don't want any Yankee abolitionists in these parts. "

"Mr. Lucas, I have no guests for whom I will not vouch. "

"Can't help that, squire, them chaps is spotted, and the boys have votedthey must leave. As they be your company, us three've been deputized tocall on you and have a talk about it. We don't want to do nothingunpleasant whar you're consarned, squire. "

"Gentlemen, my guests shall remain with me while they please to honor mewith their company, and I will protect them from violence or indignitywith my life. "

"There's no mistake but you're good grit, squire, but 'tain't no use. You know what the boys mean to do, they'll do. Now, whar's the good ofkicking up a shindy about it?"

"No good whatever, Mr. Lucas. You had better let this matter drop. Youknow me too well to suppose that I would harbor dangerous characters. Itis my earnest desire to avoid everything that may bring about anunnecessary excitement, or disturb the peace of the community; and Ishall therefore make no secret of this, interview to my friends. Butwhether they remain with me or go, shall be entirely at their option. Itrust that my roof will be held sacred by my fellow-citizens. "

"There'll be no harm done to you or yours, Squire Weems, whateverhappens. But those strangers had better be out of these parts byto-morrow, sure. Good morning, squire. "

"Good morning, gentlemen. "

And the three worthies took their departure, not fully satisfied whetherthe object of their mission had been fulfilled. 

Beverly, anxious to avoid a collision with the wild spirits of theneighborhood, which would be disagreeable, if not dangerous, to hisguests, frankly related to Harold and Arthur the tenor of theconversation that had passed. Oriana was on fire with indignation, buther concern for Harold's safety had its weight with her, and she wiselyrefrained from opposing their departure; and both the young men, awarethat a prolongation of their visit would cause the family at Riversidemanor much inconvenience and anxiety, straightway announced theirintention of proceeding northward on the following morning. 

But it was no part of Seth Rawbon's purpose to allow his rival, Hare, todepart in peace. The chastisement which he had received at Harold'shands added a most deadly hate to the jealousy which his knowledge ofOriana's preference had caused. He had considerable influence withseveral of the dissolute and lawless characters of the vicinity, and aliberal allowance of Monongahela, together with sundry pecuniary favors, enabled him to depend upon their assistance in any adventure that didnot promise particularly serious results. Now the capture and mock trialof a couple of Yankee strangers did not seem much out of the way tothese not over-scrupulous worthies; and Rawbon's cunningrepresentations as to the extent of their abolition proclivities werescarcely necessary, in view of the liberality of his bribes, to securetheir cooperation in his scheme. 

Rawbon had been prowling about the manor house during the day, in thehope of obtaining some clue to the intentions of the inmates, andobserving a mulatto boy engaged in arranging the boat for present use, he walked carelessly along the bank to the old boat-house, and, by a fewadroit questions, ascertained that "Missis and the two gen'lmen gwine totake a sail this arternoon. "

The evening was drawing on apace when Oriana, accompanied by Arthur andHarold, set forth on the last of the many excursions they had enjoyed onJames River; but they had purposely selected a late hour, that on theirreturn they might realize the tranquil pleasures of a sail by moonlight. Beverly was busy finishing some correspondence for the North, which heintended giving into the charge of his friend Arthur, and he thereforeremained at home. Phil, a smart mulatto, about ten years of age, who wasa general favorite in the family and an especial pet of Oriana, wasallowed to accompany the party. 

It was a lovely evening, only cool enough to be comfortable for Orianato be wrapped in her woollen shawl. As the shadows of twilight darkenedon the silent river, a spirit of sadness was with the party, that vagueand painful melancholy that weighs upon the heart when happy ties areabout to be sundered, and loved ones are about to part. Arthur hadbrought his flute, and with an effort to throw off the feeling of gloom, he essayed a lively air; but it seemed like discord by association withtheir thoughts. He ceased abruptly, and, at Oriana's request, chose amore mournful theme. When the last notes of the plaintive melody hadbeen lost in the stillness of the night, there was an oppressive pause, only broken by the rustle of the little sail and the faint rippling ofthe wave. 

"I seem to be sailing into the shadows of misfortune, " said Oriana, in alow, sad tone. "I wish the moon would rise, for this darkness pressesupon my heart like the fingers of a sorrowful destiny. What a coward Iam to-night!"

"A most obedient satellite, " replied Arthur. "Look where she heraldsher approach by spreading a misty glow on the brow of yonder hill. "

"We have left the shadows of misfortune behind us, " said Harold, as aflood of moonlight flashed over the river, seeming to dash a million ofdiamonds in the path of the gliding boat. 

"Alas! the fickle orb!" murmured Oriana; "it rises but to mock us, andhides itself already in the bosom of that sable cloud. Is there not athreat of rain there, Mr. Hare?"

"It looks unpromising, at the best, " said Harold; "I think it would beprudent to return. "

Suddenly, little Phil, who had been lying at ease, with his head againstthe thwarts, arose on his elbow and cried out:

"Wha'dat?"

"What is what, Phil?" asked Oriana. "Why, Phil, you have been dreaming, "she added, observing the lad's confusion at having spoken so vehemently. 

"Miss Orany, dar's a boat out yonder. I heard 'em pulling, sure. "

"Nonsense, Phil! you've been asleep. "

"By Gol! I heard 'em, sure. What a boat doing round here dis time o'night? Dem's some niggers arter chickens, sure. "

And little Phil, satisfied that he had fathomed the mystery, lay downagain in a fit of silent indignation. The boat was put about, but thewind had died away, and the sail flapped idly against the mast. Harold, glad of the opportunity for a little exercise, shipped the sculls andbent to his work. 

"Miss Oriana, put her head for the bank if you please. We shall haveless current to pull against in-shore. "

The boat glided along under the shadow of the bank, and no sound washeard but the regular thugging and splashing of the oars and the voicesof insects on the shore. They approached a curve in the river where thebank was thickly wooded, and dense shrubbery projected over the stream. 

"Wha' dat?" shouted Phil again, starting up in the bow and peering intothe darkness. A boat shot out from the shadow of the foliage, and hercourse was checked directly in their path. The movement was so suddenthat, before Harold could check his headway, the two boats fouled. Aboathook was thrust into the thwarts; Arthur sprang to the bows to castit off. 

"Don't touch that, " shouted a hoarse voice; and he felt the muzzle of apistol thrust into his breast. 

"None of that, Seth, " cried another; and the speaker laid hold of hiscomrade's arm. "We must have no shooting, you know. "

Arthur had thrown off the boathook, but some half-dozen armed men hadalready leaped into the frail vessel, crowding it to such an extent thata struggle, even had it not been madness against such odds, would haveoccasioned great personal danger to Oriana. Both Arthur and Haroldseemed instinctively to comprehend this, and therefore offered noopposition. Their boat was taken in tow, and in a few moments the entireparty, with one exception, were landed upon the adjacent bank. Thatexception was little Phil. In the confusion that ensued upon thecollision of the two boats, the lad had quietly slipped overboard, andswam ground to the stern where his mistress sat. "Miss Orany, hist! MissOrany!"

The bewildered girl turned and beheld the black face peering over thegunwale. 

"Miss Orany, here I is. O Lor'! Miss Orany, what we gwine to do?"

She bowed her head toward him and whispered hurriedly, but calmly:

"Mind what I tell you, Phil. You watch where they take us to, and thenrun home and tell Master Beverly. Do you understand me, Phil?"

"Yes, I does, Miss Orany;" and the little fellow struck out silently forthe shore, and crept among the bushes. 

Oriana betrayed no sign, of fear as she stood with her two companions onthe bank a few paces from their captors. The latter, in a low butearnest tone, were disputing with one who seemed to act as their leader. 

"You didn't tell us nothing about the lady, " said a brawny, rugged-looking fellow, angrily. "Now, look here, Seth Rawbon, this ain'ta goin' to do. I'd cut your heart out, before I'd let any harm come toSquire Weems's sister. "

"You lied to us, you long-headed Yankee turncoat, " muttered another. "What in thunder do you mean bringing us down here for kidnapping alady?"

"Ain't I worried about it as much as you?" answered Rawbon. "Can't youunderstand it's all a mistake?"

"Well, now, you go and apologize to Miss Weems and fix matters, d'yehear?"

"But what can we do?"

"Do? Undo what you've done, and show her back into the boat. "

"But the two abo"--

"Damn them and you along with 'em! Come, boys, don't let's keep the ladywaiting thar. "

The party approached their prisoners, and one among them, hat in hand, respectfully addressed Oriana. 

"Miss Weems, we're plaguy sorry this should 'a happened. It's a mistakeand none of our fault. Your boat's down thar and yer shan't bemerlested. "

"Am I free to go?" asked Oriana, calmly. 

"Free as air, Miss Weems. "

"With my companions?"

"No, they remain with us, " said Rawbon. 

"Then I remain with them, " she replied, with dignity and firmness. 

The man who had first remonstrated with Rawbon, stepped up to him andlaid his hand heavily on his shoulder:

"Look here, Seth Rawbon, you've played out your hand in this game, nowmind that. Miss Weems, you're free to go, anyhow, with them chaps ornot, just as you like. "

They stepped down the embankment, but the boats were nowhere to be seen. Rawbon, anticipating some trouble with his gang, had made a pretenceonly of securing the craft to a neighboring bush. The current hadcarried the boats out into the stream, and they had floated down theriver and were lost to sight in the darkness. 

CHAPTER V. 

There was no remedy but to cross the woodland and cornfields that forabout a league intervened between their position and the highway. Theycommenced the tedious tramp, Arthur and Harold exerting themselves tothe utmost to protect Oriana from the brambles, and to guide herfootsteps along the uneven ground and among the decayed branches andother obstacles that beset their path. Their rude companions, too, withthe exception of Rawbon, who walked moodily apart, seemed solicitous toassist her with their rough attentions. To add to the disagreeablenature of their situation, the rain began to fall in torrents beforethey had accomplished one half of the distance. They were then in themidst of a tract of wooded land that was almost impassable for a lady inthe darkness, on account of the yielding nature of the soil, and thenumerous ruts and hollows that were soon transformed into miniaturepools and streams. Oriana strove to treat the adventure as a theme forlaughter, and for awhile chatted gaily with her companions; but it wasevident that she was fast becoming weary, and that her thin-shod feetwere wounded by constant contact with the twigs and sharp stones that itwas impossible to avoid in the darkness. Her dress was torn, and heavywith mud and moisture, and the two young men were pained to perceivethat, in spite of her efforts and their watchful care, she stumbledfrequently with exhaustion, and leaned heavily on their arms as shelabored through the miry soil. 

One of the party opportunely remembered a charcoal-burner's hut in thevicinity, that would at least afford a rude shelter from the drivingstorm. Several of the men hastened in search of it, and soon a halloonot far distant indicated that the cabin, such as it was, had beendiscovered. As they approached, they were surprised to observe rays oflight streaming through the cracks and crevices, as if a fire wereblazing within. It was an uninviting structure, hastily constructed ofunhewn logs, and upon ordinary occasions Oriana would have hesitated topass the threshold; but wet and weary as she was, she was glad toobtain the shelter of even so poor a hovel. 

"There's a runaway in thar, I reckon, " said one of the party. He threwopen the door, and several of the men entered. A fire of logs wasburning on the earthen floor, and beside it was stretched a negro'sform, wrapped in a tattered blanket. He started up as his unwelcomevisitors entered, and looked frightened and bewildered, as if suddenlyawakened from a sound sleep. However, he had no sooner laid eyes uponSeth Rawbon than, with a yell of fear, he sprang with a powerful leapthrough the doorway, leaving his blanket in the hands of those whosought to grasp him. 

"That's my nigger Jim!" cried Rawbon, discharging his revolver at thedusky form as it ran like a deer into the shadow of the woods. At everyshot, the negro jumped and screamed, but, from his accelerated speed, was apparently untouched. 

"After him, boys!" shouted Rawbon. "Five dollars apiece and a gallon ofwhisky if you bring the varmint in. "

With a whoop, the whole party went off in chase and were soon lost toview in the darkness. 

Harold and Arthur led Oriana into the hut, and, spreading their coatsupon the damp floor, made a rude couch for her beside the fire. The poorgirl was evidently prostrated with fatigue and excitement, yet, with afaint laugh and a jest as she glanced around upon the questionableaccommodations, she thanked them for their kindness, and seated herselfbeside the blazing fagots. 

"This is a strange finale to our pleasure excursion, " she said, as thegrateful warmth somewhat revived her spirits. "You must acknowledge me aprophetess, gentlemen, " she added, with a smile, "for you see that wesailed indeed into the shadows of misfortune. "

"Should your health not suffer from this exposure, " replied Arthur, "ouradventure will prove no misfortune, but only a theme for mirthhereafter, when we recall to mind our present piteous plight. "

"Oh, I am strong, Mr. Wayne, " she answered cheerfully, perceiving theexpression of solicitude in the countenances of her companions, "andhave passed the ordeal of many a thorough wetting with impunity. Neverfear but I shall fare well enough. I am only sorry and ashamed that allour boasted Virginia hospitality can afford you no better quarters thanthis for your last night among us. "

"Apart from the discomfort to yourself, this little episode will onlymake brighter by contrast my remembrance of the many happy hours we havepassed together, " said Arthur, with a tone of deep feeling that causedOriana to turn and gaze thoughtfully into the flaming pile. 

Harold said nothing, and stood leaning moodily against the wall of thehovel, evidently a prey to painful thoughts. His mind wandered into theglooms of the future, and dwelt upon the hour when he, perhaps, shouldtread with hostile arms the soil that was the birthplace of his beloved. "Can it be possible, " he thought, "that between us twain, united as weare in soul, there can exist such variance of opinion as will make herkin and mine enemies, and perhaps the shedders of each other's blood!"

There was a pause, and Oriana, her raiment being partially dried, rested her head upon her arm and slumbered. 

The storm increased in violence, and the rain, pelting against the cabinroof, with its weird music, formed a dismal accompaniment to thegrotesque discomfort of their situation. Arthur threw fresh fuel uponthe fire, and the crackling twigs sent up a fitful flame, that fellathwart the face of the sleeping girl, and revealed an expression ofsorrow upon her features that caused him to turn away with a sigh. 

"Arthur, " asked Harold, abruptly, "do you think this unfortunate affairat Sumter will breed much trouble?"

"I fear it, " said Arthur, sadly. "Our Northern hearts are made ofsterner stuff than is consistent with the spirit of conciliation. "

"And what of Southern hearts?"

"You have studied them, " said Arthur, with a pensive smile, and bendinghis gaze upon the sleeping maiden. 

Harold colored slightly, and glanced half reproachfully at his friend. 

"I cannot help believing, " continued the latter, "that we are blindlyinvoking a fatal strife, more in the spirit of exaltation than of calmand searching philosophy. I am confident that the elements of unionstill exist within the sections, but my instinct, no less than myjudgment, tells me that they will no longer exist when thechariot-wheels of war shall have swept over the land. Whatever be thedisparity of strength, wealth and numbers, and whatever may be theresult of encounters upon the battle-field, such a terrible war as bothsides are capable of waging can never build up or sustain a fabric whosecement must be brotherhood and kindly feeling. I would as soon think towoo the woman of my choice with angry words and blows, as to reconcileour divided fellow citizens by force of arms. "

"You are more a philosopher than a patriot, " said Harold, with somebitterness. 

"Not so, " answered Arthur, warmly. "I love my country--so well, indeed, that I cannot be aroused into hostility to any section of it. My reasondoes not admit the necessity for civil war, and it becomes therefore asacred obligation with me to give my voice against the doctrine ofcoercion. My judgment may err, or my sensibilities may be 'too full ofthe milk of human kindness' to serve the stern exigencies of the crisiswith a Spartan's callousness and a Roman's impenetrability; but for youto affirm that, because true to my own opinions, I must be false to mycountry, is to deny me that independence of thought to which my country, as a nation, owes its existence and its grandeur. "

"You boast your patriotism, and yet you seem to excuse those who seekthe dismemberment of your country. "

"I do not excuse them, but I would not have them judged harshly, for Ibelieve they have acted under provocation. "

"What provocation can justify rebellion against a government sobeneficent as ours?"

"I will not pretend to justify, because I think there is much to beforgiven on either side. But if anything can palliate the act, it isthat system of determined hostility which for years has been levelledagainst an institution which they believe to be righteous and foundedupon divine precept. But I think this is not the hour for justificationor for crimination. I am convinced that the integrity of the Union canonly be preserved by withholding the armed hand at this crisis. Andpray Heaven, our government may forbear to strike!"

"Would you, then, have our flag trampled upon with impunity, and ourgovernment confessed a cipher, because, forsooth, you have aconstitutional repugnance to the severities of warfare? Away with suchsickly sentimentality! Such theories, if carried into practice, wouldreduce us to a nation of political dwarfs and puny drivellers, fit onlyto grovel at the footstools of tyrants. "

"I could better bear an insult to our flag than a deathblow to ournationality. And I feel that our nationality would not survive astruggle between the sections. There is no danger that we should bedwarfed in intellect or spirit by practising forbearance toward ourbrothers. "

"Is treason less criminal because it is the treason of brother againstbrother? If so, then must a traitor of necessity go unpunished, sincethe nature of the crime requires that the culprit be your countryman. How hollow are your arguments when applied to existing facts!"

"You forget that I counsel moderation as an expediency, as even anecessity, for the public good. It were poor policy to compass thecountry's ruin for the sake of bringing chastisement upon error. "

"That can be but a questionable love of country that would humiliate agovernment to the act of parleying with rebellion. "

"My love of country is not confined to one section of the country, or toone division of my countrymen. The lessons of the historic past havetaught me otherwise. If, when a schoolboy, poring over the pages of mycountry's history, I have stood, in imagination, with Prescott at BunkerHill, and stormed with Ethan Allen at the gates of Ticonderoga, I havealso mourned with Washington at Valley Forge, and followed Marion andSumter through the wilds of Carolina. If I have fancied myself at workwith Yankee sailors at the guns, and poured the shivering broadside intothe Guerriere, I have helped to man the breastworks at New Orleans, andseen the ranks that stood firm at Waterloo wavering before the blaze ofSouthern rifles. If I have read of the hardy Northern volunteers on thebattle-plains of Mexico; I remember the Palmetto boys at Cherubusco, and the brave Mississippians at Buena Vista. Is it a wonder, then, thatmy heartstrings ache when I see the links breaking that bind me to suchmemories? If I would have the Government parley awhile for the sake ofpeace, even although the strict law sanction the bayonet and cannon, Ido it in the name of the sacred past, when the ties of brotherhood werestrong. I counsel not humiliation nor submission, but conciliation. Icounsel it, not only as an expedient, but as a tribute to the affinitiesof almost a century. I love the Union too well to be willing that itsfate should be risked upon the uncertainties of war. I believe in myconscience that the chances of its reconstruction depend rather uponnegotiation than upon battles. I may err, or you, as my opponent inopinion, may err; for while I assume not infallibility for myself, Ideny it, with justice, to my neighbor. But I think as my heart andintellect dictate, and my patriotism should not be questioned by one asliable to error as myself. Should I yield my honest convictions upon aquestion of such vital importance as my country's welfare, then indeedshould I be a traitor to my country and myself. But to accuse me ofquestionable patriotism for my independence of thought, is, in itself, treason against God and man. "

"I believe you sincere in your convictions, Arthur, not because touchedby your argument, but because I have known you too long and well tobelieve you capable of an unworthy motive. But what, in the name ofcommon justice, would you have us do, when rebellion already thunders atthe gates of our citadels with belching cannon? Shall we sit by ourfiresides and nod to the music of their artillery?"

"I would have every American citizen, in this crisis, as in all others, divest himself of all prejudice and sectional feeling: I would have himlisten to and ponder upon the opinions of his fellow citizens, and, withthe exercise of his best judgment, to discard the bad, and take counselfrom the good; then, I would have him conclude for himself, not whetherhis flag has been insulted, or whether there are injuries to avenge, orcriminals to be punished, but what is best and surest to be done forthe welfare of his country. If he believe the Union can only bepreserved by war, let his voice be for war; if by peace, let him counselpeace, as I do, from my heart; if he remain in doubt, let him incline topeace, secure that in so doing he will best obey the teachings ofChristianity, the laws of humanity, and the mighty voice that isspeaking from the soul of enlightenment, pointing out the errors of thepast, and disclosing the secret of human happiness for the future. "

Arthur's eye kindled as he spoke, and the flush of excitement, to whichhe was habitually a stranger, colored his pale cheek. Oriana hadawakened with the vehemence of his language, and gazing with interestupon his now animated features, had been listening to his closing words. Harold was about to answer, when suddenly the baying of a hound brokethrough the noise of the storm. 

"That is a bloodhound!" exclaimed Harold with an accent of surprise. 

"Oh, no, " said Oriana. "There are no bloodhounds in this neighborhood, nor are they at all in use, I am sure, in Virginia. "

"I am not mistaken, " replied Harold. "I have been made familiar withtheir baying while surveying on the coast of Florida. Listen!"

The deep, full tones came swelling upon the night wind, and fell with astartling distinctness upon the ear. 

"It's my hound, Mister Hare, " said a low, coarse voice at the doorway, and Seth Rawbon entered the cabin and closed the door behind him. 

CHAPTER VI. 

"It's my hound. Miss Weems, and I guess he's on the track of thatnigger, Jim. "

Oriana started as if stung by a serpent, and rising to her feet, lookedupon the man with such an expression of contempt and loathing that theruffian's brow grew black with anger as he returned her gaze. Haroldconfronted him, and spoke in a low, earnest tone, and between hisclenched teeth:

"If you are a man you will go at once. This persecution of a woman isbeneath even your brutality. If you have an account with me, I will notbalk you. But relieve her from the outrage of your presence here. "

"I guess I'd better be around, " replied Rawbon, coolly, as he leanedagainst the door, with his hands in his coat pocket. "That dog isdangerous when he's on the scent. You see, Miss Weems, " he continued, speaking over Harold's shoulder, "my niggers are plaguy troublesome, and I keep the hound to cow them down a trifle. But he wouldn't hurt alady, I think--unless I happened to encourage him a bit, do you see. "

And the man showed his black teeth with a grin that caused Oriana toshudder and turn away. 

Harold's brow was like a thunder-cloud, from beneath which his eyesflashed like the lightning at midnight. 

"Your words imply a threat which I cannot understand. Ruffian! What domean?"

"I mean no good to you, my buck!"

His lip, with the deep cut upon it, curled with hate, but he stillleaned coolly against the door, though a quick ear might have caught aclick, as if he had cocked a pistol in his pocket. It was a habit withHarold to go unarmed. Fearless and self-reliant by nature, even upon hissurveying expeditions in wild and out of the way districts, he carriedno weapon beyond sometimes a stout oaken staff. But now, his formdilated, and the muscles of his arm contracted, as if he were about tostrike. Oriana understood the movement and the danger. She advancedquietly but quickly to his side, and took his hand within her own. 

"He is not worth your anger, Harold. For my sake, Harold, do not provokehim further, " she added softly, as she drew him from the spot. 

At this moment the baying of the hound was heard, apparently in closeproximity to the hovel, and presently there was a heavy breathing andsnuffling at the threshold, followed by a bound against the door, and ahowl of rage and impatience. Nothing prevented the entrance of theanimal except the form of Rawbon, who still leaned quietly against therude frame, which, hanging upon leathern hinges, closed the aperture. 

There was something frightful in the hoarse snarling of the angry beast, as he dashed his heavy shoulder against the rickety framework, andOriana shrank nervously to Harold's side. 

"Secure that dog!" he said, as, while soothing the trembling girl, helooked over his shoulder reproachfully at Rawbon. His tone was low, andeven gentle, but it was tremulous with passion. But the man gave noanswer, and continued leering at them as before. 

Arthur walked to him and spoke almost in an accent of entreaty. 

"Sir, for the sake of your manhood, take away your dog and leave us. "

He did not answer. 

The hound, excited by the sound of voices, redoubled his efforts and hisfury. Oriana was sinking into Harold's arms. 

"This must end, " he muttered. "Arthur, take her from me, she's fainting. I'll go out and brain the dog. "

"Not yet, not yet, " whispered Arthur. "For her sake be calm, " and whilehe received Oriana upon one arm, with the other he sought to stay hisfriend. 

But Harold seized a brand from the fire, and sprang toward the door. 

"Stand from the door, " he shouted, lifting the brand above Rawbon'shead. "Leave that, I say!"

Rawbon's lank form straightened, and in an instant the revolver flashedin the glare of the fagots. 

He did not shoot, but his face grew black with passion. 

"By God! you strike me, and I'll set the dog at the woman. "

At the sound of his master's voice, the hound set up a yell that seemedunearthly. Harold was familiar with the nature of the species, and evenin the extremity of his anger, his anxiety for Oriana withheld his arm. 

"Look you here!" continued Rawbon, losing his quiet, mocking tone, andfairly screaming with excitement, "do you see this?" He pointed to hismangled lip, from which, by the action of his jaws while talking, theplaster had just been torn, and the blood was streaming out afresh. "Doyou see this? I've got that to settle with you. I'll hunt you, by G--d!as that hound hunts a nigger. Now see if I don't spoil that pretty faceof yours, some day, so that she won't look so sweet on you for all yourpretty talk. "

He seemed to calm abruptly after this, put up his pistol, and resumedthe wicked leer. 

"What would you have?" at last asked Arthur, mildly and with no trace ofanger in his voice. 

Rawbon turned to him with a searching glance, and, after a pause, said:

"Terms. "

"What?"

"I want to make terms with you. "

"About what?"

"About this whole affair. "

"Well. Go on. "

"I know you can hurt me for this with the law, and I know you mean to. Now I want this matter hushed up. "

Harold would have spoken, but Arthur implored him with a glance, andanswered:

"What assurance can you give us against your outrages in the future?"

"None. "

"None! Then why should we compromise with you?"

"Because I've got the best hand to-night, and you know it. For her, youknow, you'll do 'most anything--now, won't you?"

The fellow's complaisant smile caused Arthur to look away with disgust. He turned to Harold, and they were conferring about Rawbon's strangeproposition, when Oriana raised her head suddenly and her face assumedan expression of attention, as if her ear had caught a distant sound. She had not forgotten little Phil, and knowing his sagacity andfaithfulness, she depended much upon his having followed herinstructions. And indeed, a moment after, the plashing of the hoofs ofhorses in the wet soil could be distinctly heard. 

"Them's my overseer and his man, I guess, " said Rawbon, with composure, and he smiled again as he observed how effectually he had checked thegleam of joy that had lightened Oriana's face. 

"'Twas he, you see, that set the dog on Jim's track, and now he'sfollowing after, that's all. "

He had scarcely concluded, when a vigorous and excited voice was heard, shouting: "There 'tis!--there's the hut, gentlemen! Push on!"

"It is my brother! my brother!" cried Oriana, clasping her hands withjoy; and for the first time that night she burst into tears and sobbedon Harold's shoulder. 

Rawbon's face grew livid with rage and disappointment. He flung open thedoor and sprang out into the open air; but Oriana could see him pausean instant at the threshold, and stooping, point into the cabin. The lowhissing word of command that accompanied the action reached her ear. Sheknew what it meant and a faint shriek burst from her lips, more perhapsfrom horror at the demoniac cruelty of the man, than from fear. The nextmoment, a gigantic bloodhound, gaunt, mud-bespattered and with the frothof fury oozing from his distended jaws, plunged through the doorway andstood glaring in the centre of the cabin. 

Oriana stood like a sculptured ideal of terror, white and immovable;Harold with his left arm encircled the rigid form, while his right handwas uplifted, weaponless, but clenched with the energy of despair, tillthe blood-drops burst from his palm. But Arthur stepped before them bothand fixed his calm blue eyes upon the monster's burning orbs. There wasneither fear, nor excitement, nor irresolution in that steadfastgaze--it was like the clear, straightforward glance of a father checkinga wayward child--even the habitual sadness lingered in the deep azure, and the features only changed to be cast in more placid mold. It wasthe struggle of a brave and tranquil soul with the ferocious instinctsof the brute. The hound, crouched for a deadly spring, was fascinated bythis spectacle of the utter absence of emotion. His huge chest heavedlike a billow with his labored respiration, but the regular breathing ofthe being that awed him was like that of a sleeping child. For full fiveminutes--but it seemed an age--this silent but terrible duel was beingfought, and yet no succor came. Beverly and those who came with him musthave changed their course to pursue the fleeing Rawbon. 

"Lead her out softly, Harold, " murmured Arthur, without changing amuscle or altering his gaze. But the agony of suspense had been toogreat--Oriana, with a convulsive shudder, swooned and hung like a corpseupon Harold's arm. 

"Oh, God! she is dying, Arthur!" he could not help exclaiming, for itwas indeed a counterpart of death that he held in his embrace. 

Then only did Arthur falter for an instant, and the hound was at histhroat. The powerful jaws closed with a snap upon his shoulder, and youmight have heard the sharp fangs grate against the bone. The shock ofthe spring brought Arthur to the ground, and man and brute rolled overtogether, and struggled in the mud and gore. Harold bore the lifelessgirl out into the air, and returning, closed the door. He seized abrand, and with both hands levelled a fierce blow at the dog's neck. Thestick shivered like glass, but the creature only shook his grisly head, but never quit his hold. With his bare hand he seized the live coalsfrom the thickest of the fire and pressed them against the flanks andstomach of the tenacious animal; the brute howled and quivered in everylimb, but still the blood-stained fangs were firmly set into thelacerated flesh. With both hands clasped around the monster's throat, heexerted his strength till the finger-bones seemed to crack. He couldfeel the pulsations of the dog's heart grow fainter and slower, andcould see in his rolling and upheaved eyeballs that the death-pang wasupon him; but those iron jaws still were locked in the torn shoulder;and as Harold beheld the big drops start from his friend's ashy brow, and his eyes filming with the leaden hue of unconsciousness, theagonizing thought came to him that the dog and the man were dyingtogether in that terrible embrace. 

It was then that he fairly sobbed with the sensation of relief, as heheard the prancing of steeds close by the cabin-door; and Beverly, entering hastily, with a cry of horror, stood one moment aghast as helooked on the frightful scene. Then, with repeated shots from hisrevolver, he scattered the dog's brains over Arthur's blood-stainedbosom. 

Harold arose, and, faint and trembling with excitement and exhaustion, leaned against the wall. Beverly knelt by the side of the wounded man, and placed his hand above his heart. Harold turned to him with ananxious look. 

"He has but fainted from loss of blood, " said Beverly. "Harold, where ismy sister?"

As he spoke, Oriana, who, in the fresh night air, had recovered from herswoon, pale and with dishevelled hair, appeared at the cabin-door. Harold and Beverly sought to lead her out before her eyes fell uponArthur's bleeding form; but she had already seen the pale, calm face, clotted with blood, but with the beautiful sad smile still lingeringupon the parted lips. She appeared to see neither Harold nor herbrother, but only those tranquil features, above which the angel ofDeath seemed already to have brushed his dewy wing. She put asideBeverly's arm, which was extended to support her, and thrust him away asif he had been a stranger. She unloosed her hand from Harold'saffectionate grasp, and with a long and suppressed moan of intenseanguish, she kneeled down in the little pool of blood beside theextended form, with her hands tightly clasped, and wept bitterly. 

They raised her tenderly, and assured her that Arthur was not dead. 

"Oh, no! oh, no!" she murmured, as the tears streamed out afresh, "hemust not die! He must not die for _me_! He is so good! so brave! Achild's heart, with the courage of a lion. Oh, Harold! why did you notsave him?"

But as she took Harold's hand almost reproachfully, she perceived thatit was black and burnt, and he too was suffering; and she leaned herbrow upon his bosom and sobbed with a new sorrow. 

Beverly was almost vexed at the weakness his sister displayed. It wasunusual to her, and he forgot her weariness and the trial she hadpassed. He had been binding some linen about Arthur's shoulder, and helooked up and spoke to her in a less gentle tone. 

"Oriana, you are a child to-night. I have never seen you thus. Come, help me with this bandage. "

She sighed heavily, but immediately ceased to weep, and said "Yes, "calmly and with firmness. Bending beside her brother, without falteringor shrinking, she gave her white fingers to the painful task. 

In the stormy midnight, by the fitful glare of the dying embers, thosetwo silent men and that pale woman seemed to be keeping a vigil in anabode of death. And the pattering rain and moan of the night-windsounded like a dirge. 

CHAPTER VII. 

Several gentlemen of the neighborhood, whom Beverly, upon hearing littlePhil's story, had hastily summoned to his assistance, now entered thecabin, together with the male negroes of his household, who had mountedthe farm horses and eagerly followed to the rescue of their youngmistress. They had been detained without by an unsuccessful pursuit ofRawbon, whose flight they had discovered, but who had easily evaded themin the darkness. A rude litter was constructed for Arthur, but Orianadeclared herself well able to proceed on horseback, and would not listento any suggestion of delay on her account. She mounted Beverly's horse, while he and Harold supplied themselves from among the horses that thenegroes had rode, and thus, slowly and silently, they threaded thelonely forest, while ever and anon a groan from the litter struckpainfully upon their ears. 

Arrived at the manor house, a physician who had been summoned, pronounced Arthur's hurt to be serious, but not dangerous. Uponreceiving this intelligence, Oriana and Harold were persuaded to retire, and Beverly and his aunt remained as watchers at the bedside of thewounded man. 

Oriana, despite her agitation, slept well, her rest being only disturbedby fitful dreams, in which Arthur's pale face seemed ever present, nowsmiling upon her mournfully, and now locked in the repose of death. Shearose somewhat refreshed, though still feverish and anxious, and walkingupon the veranda to breathe the morning air, she was joined by Harold, with his hand in a sling, and much relieved by the application of apoultice, which the skill of Miss Randolph had prepared. He informed herthat Arthur was sleeping quietly, and that she might dismiss all fearsas to his safety; and perhaps, if he had watched her closely, theearnest expression of something more than pleasure with which shereceived this assurance, might have given him cause for rumination. Beverly descended soon afterward, and confirmed the favorable reportfrom the sick chamber, and Oriana retired into the house to assist inpreparing the morning meal. 

"Let us take a stroll by the riverside, " said Beverly; "the air breathesfreshly after my night's vigil. "

"The storm has left none but traces of beauty behind, " observed Harold, as they crossed the lawn. The loveliness of the early morning was indeeda pleasant sequel to the rude tempest of the preceding night. Thedewdrops glistened upon grass-blade and foliage, and the bosom of thestream flashed merrily in the sunbeams. 

"It is, " answered Beverly, "as if Nature were rejoicing that the war ofthe elements is over, and a peace proclaimed. Would that the black cloudupon our political horizon had as happily passed away. "

After a pause, he continued: "Harold, you need not fear to remain withus a while longer. I am sure that Rawbon's confederates are heartilyashamed of their participation in last night's outrage, and will on noaccount be seduced to a similar adventure. Rawbon himself will not belikely to show himself in this vicinity for some time to come, unlessas the inmate of a jail, for I have ordered a warrant to be issuedagainst him. The whole affair has resulted evidently from someunaccountable antipathy which the fellow entertains against us. "

"I agree with you, " replied Harold, "but still I think this is anunpropitious time for the prolongation of my visit. There are events, Ifear, breeding for the immediate future, in which I must take a part. Ishall only remain with you a few days, that I may be assured of Arthur'ssafety. "

"I will not disguise from you my impression that Virginia will withdrawfrom the Union. In that case, we will be nominal enemies. God grant thatour paths may not cross each other. "

"Amen!" replied Harold, with much feeling. "But I do not understand whywe should be enemies. You surely will not lend your voice to thisrebellion?"

"When the question of secession is before the people of my State, Ishall cast my vote as my judgment and conscience shall dictate. Meanwhile I shall examine the issue, and, I trust, dispassionately. Butwhatever may become of my individual opinion, where Virginia goes I go, whatever be the event. "

"Would you uphold a wrong in the face of your own conscience?"

"Oh, as to that, I do not hold it a question between right and wrong, but simply of advisability. The right of secession I entertain no doubtabout. "

"No doubt as to the right of dismembering and destroying a governmentwhich has fostered your infancy, developed your strength, and made youone among the parts of a nation that has no peer in a world's history?Is it possible that intellect and honesty can harbor such a doctrine!"

"My dear Harold, you look at the subject as an enthusiast, and you allowyour heart not to assist but to control your brain. Men, by association, become attached to forms and symbols, so as in time to believe that upontheir existence depends the substance of which they are but the signs. Forty years ago, in the Hawaiian Islands, the death-penalty wasinflicted upon a native of the inferior caste, should he chance to passover the shadow of one of noble birth. So would you avenge an insult toa shadow, while you allow the substance to be stolen from your grasp. Our jewel, as freemen, is the right of self-government; the form ofgovernment is a mere convenience--a machine, which may be dismembered, destroyed, remodelled a thousand times, without detriment to the greatprinciple of which it is the outward sign. "

"You draw a picture of anarchy that would disgrace a confederation ofpetty savage tribes. What miserable apology for a government would thatbe whose integrity depends upon the caprice of the governed?"

"It is as likely that a government should become tyrannical, as that apeople should become capricious. You have simply chosen an unfair word. For _caprice_ substitute _will_, and you have my ideal of a truerepublic. "

"And by that ideal, one State, by its individual act, might overturn theentire system adopted for the convenience and safety of the whole. "

"Not so. It does not follow that the system should be overturned becausecircumscribed in limit, more than that a business firm shouldnecessarily be ruined by the withdrawal of a partner. Observe, Harold, that the General Government was never a sovereignty, and came intoexistence only by the consent of each and every individual State. TheStates were the sovereignties, and their connection with the Union, being the mere creature of their will, can exist only by that will. "

"Why, Beverly, you might as well argue that this pencil-case, whichbecame mine by an act of volition on your part, because you gave it me, ceases to be mine when you reclaim it. "

"If I had appointed you my amanuensis, and had transferred my pencil toyou simply for the purposes of your labor in my behalf, when I choose todismiss you, I should expect the return of my property. The States madeno gifts to the Federal Government for the sake of giving, but onlydelegated certain powers for specific purposes. They never could havedelegated the power of coercion, since no one State or number of Statespossessed that power as against their sister States. "

"But surely, in entering into the bonds of union, they formed acontract with each other which should be inviolable. "

"Then, at the worst, the seceding States are guilty of a breach ofcontract with the remaining States, but not with the General Government, with which they made no contract. They formed a union, it is true. Butof what? Of sovereignties. How can those States be sovereignties whichadmit a power above them, possessing the right of coercion? To admit theright of coercion is to deny the existence of sovereignty. "

"You can find nothing in the Constitution to intimate the right ofsecession. "

"Because its framers considered the right sufficiently established bythe very nature of the confederation. The fears upon the subject thatwere expressed by Patrick Henry, and other zealous supporters of StateRights, were quieted by the assurances of the opposite party, whoridiculed the idea that a convention, similar to that which in eachState adopted the Constitution, could not thereafter, in representationof the popular will, withdraw such State from the confederacy. Youhave, in proof of this, but to refer to the annals of the occasion. "

"I discard the theory as utterly inconsistent with any legislativepower. We have either a government or we have not. If we have one, itmust possess within itself the power to sustain itself. Our chiefmagistrate becomes otherwise a mere puppet, and our Congress a shallowmockery, and the shadow only of a legislative body. Our nationalitybecomes a word, and nothing more. Our place among the nations becomesvacant, and the great Republic, our pride and the world's wonder, crumbles into fragments, and with its downfall perishes the hope of theoppressed of every clime. I wonder, Beverly, that you can coldly argueagainst the very life of your country, and not feel the parricide'sremorse! Have you no lingering affection for the glorious structurewhich our fathers built for and bequeathed to us, and which you now seekto hurl from its foundations? Have you no pride and love for the braveold flag that has been borne in the vanguard to victory so often, thathas shrouded the lifeless form of Lawrence, that has gladdened theheart of the American wandering in foreign climes, and has spread itssacred folds over the head of Washington, here, on your own nativesoil?"

"Yes, Harold, yes! I love the Union, and I love and am proud of thebrave old flag; I would die for either, and, although I reason with youcoldly, my soul yearns to them both, and my heart aches when I thinkthat soon, perhaps, they will no more belong to me. But I must sacrificeeven my pride and love to a stern sense of duty. So Washington did, whenhe hurled his armed squadrons against the proud banner of St. George, under which he had been trained in soldiership, and had won the laurelof his early fame. He, too, no doubt, was not without a pang, to besundered from his share of Old England's glorious memories, the land ofhis allegiance, the king whom he had served, the soil where the bones ofhis ancestors lay at rest. It would cause me many a throb of agony todraw my sword against the standard of the Republic--but I would do it, Harold, if my conscience bade me, although my nearest friends, althoughyou, Harold--and I love you dearly--were in the foremost rank. "

"Where I will strive to be, should my country call upon me. But Heavenforbid that we should meet thus, Beverly!"

"Heaven forbid?" he replied, with a sigh, as he pressed Harold's hand. "But yonder comes little Phil, running like mad, to tell us, doubtless, that breakfast is cold with waiting for us. "

They retraced their steps, and found Miss Randolph and Oriana awaitingtheir presence at the breakfast-table. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

During the four succeeding days, the house hold at Riverside manor weremuch alarmed for Arthur's safety, for a violent fever had ensued, and, to judge from the physician's evasive answers, the event was doubtful. The family were unremitting in their attentions, and Oriana, quietly, but with her characteristic self-will, insisted upon fulfilling hershare of the duties of a nurse. And no hand more gently smoothed thesick man's pillow or administered more tenderly the cooling draught. Itseemed that Arthur's sleep was calmer when her form was bending overhim, and even when his thoughts were wandering and his eyes wererestless with delirium, they turned to welcome her as she took heraccustomed seat. Once, while she watched there alone in the twilight, the open book unheeded in her hand, and her subdued eyes bentthoughtfully upon his face as he slept unconscious of her presence, shesaw the white lips move and heard the murmur of the low, musical voice. Her fair head was bent to catch the words--they were the words ofdelirium or of dreams, but they brought a blush to her cheek. And yetshe bent her head still lower and listened, until her forehead rested onthe pillow, and when she looked up again with a sigh, and fixed her eyesmechanically on the page before her, there was a trace of tears upon thedrooping lashes. 

He awoke from a refreshing slumber and it seemed that the fever wasgone; for his glance was calm and clear, and the old smile was upon hislips. When he beheld Oriana, a slight flush passed over his cheek. 

"Are you indeed there, Miss Weems, " he said, "or do I still dream? Ihave been dreaming, I know not what, but I was very happy. " He sighed, and closed his eyes, as if he longed to woo back the vision which hadfled. She seemed to know what he had been dreaming, for while his cheekpaled again, hers glowed like an autumn cloud at sunset. 

"I trust you are much better, Mr. Wayne?"

"Oh yes, much better. I fear I have been very troublesome to you all. You have been very kind to me. "

"Do not speak so, Mr. Wayne, " she replied, and a tear glistened in hereyes. "If you knew how grateful we all are to you! You have sufferedterribly for my sake, Mr. Wayne. You have a brave, pure heart, and Icould hate myself with thinking that I once dared to wrong and to insultit. "

"In my turn, I say do not speak so. I pray you, let there be no thoughtsbetween us that make you unhappy. What you accuse yourself of, I haveforgotten, or remember only as a passing cloud that lingered for amoment on a pure and lovely sky. There must be no self-reproachesbetween us twain, Miss Weems, for we must become strangers to each otherin this world, and when we part I would not leave with you one bitterrecollection. "

There was sorrow in his tone, and the young girl paused awhile and gazedthrough the lattice earnestly into the gathering gloom of evening. 

"We must not be strangers, Mr. Wayne. "

"Alas! yes, for to be otherwise were fatal, at least to me. "

She did not answer, and both remained silent and thoughtful, so long, indeed, that the night shadows obscured the room. Oriana arose and litthe lamp. 

"I must go and prepare some supper for you, " she said, in a lightertone. 

He took her hand as she stood at his bed-side and spoke in a low butearnest voice:

"You must forget what I have said to you, Miss Weems. I am weak andfeverish, and my brain has been wandering among misty dreams. If I havespoken indiscreetly, you will forgive me, will you not?"

"It is I that am to be forgiven, for allowing my patient to talk whenthe doctor prescribes silence. I am going to get your supper, for I amsure you must be hungry; so, good bye, " she added gaily, as she smoothedthe pillow, and glided from the room. Oriana was silent and reserved forsome days after this, and Harold seemed also to be disturbed and ill atease. Some link appeared to be broken between them, for she did not lookinto his eyes with the same frank, trusting gaze that had so oftenreturned his glance of tenderness, and sometimes even she lookedfurtively away with heightened color, when, with some gentlecommonplace, his voice broke in upon her meditation. Arthur was now ableto sit for some hours daily in his easy-chair, and Oriana often came tohim at such times, and although they conversed but rarely, and uponindifferent themes, she was never weary of reading to him, at hisrequest, some favorite book. And sometimes, as the author's sentimentfound an echo in her heart, she would pause and gaze listlessly at thewillow branches that waved before the casement, and both would remainsilent and pensive, till some member of the family entered, and broke inupon their revery. 

"Come, Oriana, " said Harold, one afternoon, "let us walk to the top ofyonder hillock, and look at this glorious sunset. "

She went for her bonnet and shawl, and joined him. They had reached thesummit of the hill before either of them broke silence, and then Orianamechanically made some commonplace remark about the beauty of thewestern sky. He replied with a monosyllable, and sat down upon amoss-covered rock. She plucked a few wild-flowers, and toyed with them. 

"Oriana, Arthur is much better now. "

"Much better, Harold. "

"I have no fears for his safety now. I think I shall go to-morrow. "

"Go, Harold?"

"Yes, to New York. The President has appealed to the States for troops. I am no soldier, but I cannot remain idle while my fellow citizens arerallying to arms. "

"Will you fight, Harold?"

"If needs be. "

"Against your countrymen?"

"Against traitors. "

"Against me, perhaps. "

"Heaven forbid that the blood of any of your kin should be upon myhands. I know how much you have suffered, dearest, with the thought thatthis unhappy business may separate us for a time. Think you that the eyeof affection could fail to notice your dejection and reflective mood forsome days past?"

Her face grew crimson, and she tore nervously the petals of the flowerin her hand. 

"Oriana, you are my betrothed, and no earthly discords should sever ourdestinies or estrange our hearts. Why should we part at all. Be mine atonce, Oriana, and go with me to the loyal North, for none may tell howsoon a barrier may be set between your home and me. "

"That would be treason to my kindred and the home of my birth. "

"And to be severed from me--would it not be treason to your heart?"

She did not answer. 

"I have spoken to Beverly about it, and he will not seek to control you. We are most unhappy, Oriana, in our national troubles; why should we beso in our domestic ties. We can be blest, even among the rude alarms ofwar. This strife will soon be over, and you shall see the old homesteadonce again. But while the dark cloud lowers, I call upon you, in thename of your pledged affection, to share my fortunes with me, and blessme with this dear hand. "

That hand remained passively within his own, but her bosom swelled withemotion, and presently the large tears rolled upon her cheek. He wouldhave pressed her to his bosom, but she gently turned from him, andsinking upon the sward, sobbed through her clasped fingers. 

"Why are you thus unhappy, dear Oriana?" he murmured, as he benttenderly above her. "Surely you do not love me less because of thispoison of rebellion that infects the land. And with love, woman's bestconsolation, to be your comforter, why should you be unhappy?"

She arose, pale and excited, and raised his hand to her lips. The actseemed to him a strange one for an affianced bride, and he gazed uponher with a troubled air. 

"Let us go home, Harold. "

"But tell me that you love me. "

She placed her two hands lightly about his neck, and looked upmournfully but steadily into his face. 

"I will be your true wife, Harold, and pray heaven I may love you as youdeserve to be loved. But I am not well to-day, Harold. Let us speak nomore of this now, for there is something at my heart that must bequieted with penitence and prayer. Oh, do not question me, Harold, " sheadded, as she leaned her cheek upon his breast; "we will talk withBeverly, and to-morrow I shall be stronger and less foolish. Come, Harold, let us go home. "

She placed her arm within his, and they walked silently homeward. Whenthey reached the house, Oriana was hastening to her chamber, but shelingered at the threshold, and returned to Harold. 

"I am not well to-night, and shall not come down to tea. Good night, Harold. Smile upon me as you were wont to do, " she added, as she pressedhis hand and raised her swollen eyes, beneath whose white lids werecrushed two teardrops that were striving to burst forth. "Give me thesmile of the old time, and the old kiss, Harold, " and she raised herforehead to receive it. "Do not look disturbed; I have but a headache, and shall be well to-morrow. Good night--dear--Harold. "

She strove to look pleasantly as she left the room, but Harold wasbewildered and anxious, and, till the summons came for supper, he pacedthe veranda with slow and meditative steps. 

CHAPTER IX. 

The following morning was warm and springlike, and Arthur wassufficiently strong and well to walk out a little in the open air. Hehad been seated upon the veranda conversing with Beverly and Harold, when the latter proposed a stroll with Beverly, with whom he wished toconverse in relation to his proposed marriage. As the beams of theunclouded sun had already chased away the morning dew, and the air waswarm and balmy, Arthur walked out into the garden and breathed thefreshness of the atmosphere with the exhilaration of a convalescentfreed for the first time from the sick-room. Accidentally, or byinstinct, he turned his steps to the little grove which he knew wasOriana's favorite haunt; and there, indeed, she sat, upon the rusticbench, above which the drooping limbs of the willow formed a leafycanopy. The pensive girl, her white hand, on which she leaned, buriedamong the raven tresses, was gazing fixedly into the depths of theclear sky, as if she sought to penetrate that azure veil, and find somehope realized among the mysteries of the space beyond. The neglectedvolume had fallen from her lap, and lay among the bluebells at her feet. Arthur's feeble steps were unheard upon the sward, and he had taken hisseat beside her, before, conscious of an intruder, she started from herdream. 

"The first pilgrimage of my convalescence is to your bower, my gentlenurse. I have come to thank you for more kindness than I can ever repay, except with grateful thoughts. "

She had risen when she became aware of his presence; and when sheresumed her seat, it seemed with hesitation, and almost an effort, as iftwo impulses were struggling within her. But her pleasure to see himabroad again was too hearty to be checked, and she timidly gave him thehand which his extended palm invited to a friendly grasp. 

"Indeed, Mr. Wayne, I am very glad to see you so far recovered. "

"To your kind offices chiefly I owe it, and those of my good friends, your brother and Harold, and our excellent Miss Randolph. My sick-roomhas been the test of so much friendship, that I could almost be sinfulenough to regret the returning health which makes me no longer adependent on your care. But you are pale, Miss Weems. Or is it that myeyes are unused to this broad daylight? Indeed, I trust you are notill?"

"Oh, no, I am quite well, " she answered; but it was with an involuntarysigh that was in contrast with the words. "But you are not strong yet, Mr. Wayne, and I must not let you linger too long in the fresh morningair. We had best go in under shelter of the veranda. "

She arose, and would have led the way, but he detained her gently with alight touch upon her sleeve. 

"Stay one moment, I pray you. I seem to breathe new life with this pureair, and the perfume of these bowers awakens within me an inexpressibleand calm delight. I shall be all the better for one tranquil hour withnature in bloom, if you, like the guardian nymph of these floraltreasures, will sit beside me. "

He drew her gently back into the seat, and looked long and earnestlyupon her face. She felt his gaze, but dared not return it, and her fairhead drooped like a flower that bends beneath the glance of a scorchingsun. 

"Miss Weems, " he said at last, but his voice was so low and tremulousthat it scarce rose above the rustle of the swinging willow boughs, "youare soon to be a bride, and in your path the kind Destinies will showerblessings. When they wreathe the orange blossoms in your hair, and youare led to the altar by the hand to which you must cling for life, if Ishould not be there to wish you joy, you will not deem, will you, that Iam less your friend?"

The fair head drooping yet lower was her only answer. 

"And when you shall be the mistress of a home where Content will beshrined, the companion of your virtues, and over your threshold manyfriends shall be welcomed, if I should never sit beside yourhearthstone, you will not, will you, believe that I have forgotten, orthat I could forget?"

Still lower the fair head drooped, but she answered only with a fallingtear. 

"I told you the other day that we should be strangers through life, andwhy, I must not tell, although perhaps your woman's heart may whisper, and yet not condemn me for that which, Heaven knows, I have struggledagainst--alas, in vain! Do not turn from me. I would not breathe a wordto you that in all honor you should not hear, although my heart seemsbursting with its longing, and I would yield my soul with rapture fromits frail casket, for but one moment's right to give its secret wings. Iwill bid you farewell to-morrow"--

"To-morrow!"

"Yes, the doctor says that the sea air will do me good, and an occasionoffers to-morrow which I shall embrace. It will be like setting forthupon a journey through endless solitudes, where my only companions willbe a memory and a sorrow. "

He paused a while, but continued with an effort at composure. 

"Our hearts are tyrants to us, Miss Weems, and will not, sometimes, betutored into silence. I see that I have moved, but I trust not offendedyou. "

"You have not offended, " she murmured, but in so low a tone that perhapsthe words were lost in the faint moan of the swaying foliage. 

"What I have said, " he continued earnestly, and taking her hand with agentle but respectful pressure, "has been spoken as one who is dyingspeaks with his fleeting breath; for evermore my lips shall be shackledagainst my heart, and the past shall be sealed and avoided as aforbidden theme. We are, then, good friends at parting, are we not?"

"Yes. "

"And, believe me, I shall be happiest when I think that you arehappy--for you will be happy. "

She sighed so deeply that the words were checked upon his lips, as ifsome new emotion had turned the current of his thought. 

"Are you _not_ happy?"

The tears that, in spite of her endeavor, burst from beneath thedowncast lids, answered him as words could not have done. He wasagitated and unnerved, and, leaning his brow against his hand, remainedsilent while she wept. 

"Harold is a noble fellow, " he said at last, after a long silence, andwhen she had grown calmer, "and deserves to be loved as I am sure youlove him. "

"Oh, he has a noble heart, and I would die rather than cause him pain. "

"And you love him?"

"I thought I loved him. "

The words were faint--hardly more than a breath upon her lips; but heheard them, and his heart grew big with an undefined awe, as if somevague danger were looming among the shadows of his destiny. Orianaturned to him suddenly, and clasped his hand within her tremblingfingers. 

"Oh, Mr. Wayne! you must go, and never see me more. I am standing on thebrink of an abyss, and my heart bids me leap. I see the danger, and, ohGod! I have prayed for power to shun it. But Arthur, Arthur, if you donot help me, I am lost. You are a man, an honest man, an honorable man, who will not wrong your friend, or tempt the woman that cannot love youwithout sin. Oh, save me from myself--from you--from the cruel wrongthat I could even dream of against him to whom I have sworn my woman'sfaith. I am a child in your hands, Arthur, and in the face of thereproaching Providence above me, I feel--I feel that I am at your mercy. I feel that what you speak I must listen to; that should you bid mestand beside you at the altar, I should not have courage to refuse. Ifeel, oh God! Arthur, that I love you, and am betrothed to Harold. Butyou are strong--you have courage, will, the power to defy such weaknessof the heart--and you will save me, for I know you are a good and honestman. "

As she spoke, with her face upturned to him, and the hot tears rollingdown her cheeks, her fingers convulsively clasped about his hand, andher form bending closer and closer toward him, till her cheek wasresting on his bosom, Arthur shuddered with intensity of feeling, andfrom his averted eyes the scalding drops, that had never once beforemoistened their surface, betrayed how terribly he was shaken withemotion. 

But while she spoke, rapt as they were within themselves, they saw notone who stood with folded arms beside the rustic bench, and gazed uponthem. 

"As God is my hope, " said Arthur, "I will disarm temptation. Fear not. From this hour we part. Henceforth the living and the dead shall not bemore estranged than we. "

He arose, but started as if an apparition met his gaze. Oriana kneltbeside him, and touched her lips to his hand in gratitude. An arm raisedher tenderly, and a gentle voice murmured her name. 

It was not Arthur's. 

Oriana raised her head, with a faint cry of terror. She gasped andswooned upon the intruder's breast. 

It was Harold Hare who held her in his arms. 

Arthur, with folded arms, stood erect, but pale, in the presence of hisfriend. His eye, sorrowful, yet calm, was fixed upon Harold, as ifawaiting his angry glance. But Harold looked only on the lifeless formhe held, and parting the tresses from her cold brow, his lips restedthere a moment with such a fond caress as sometimes a father gives hischild. 

"Poor girl!" he murmured, "would that my sorrow could avail for both. Arthur, I have heard enough to know you would not do me wrong. Grief isin store for us, but let us not be enemies. "

Mournfully, he gave his hand to Arthur, and Oriana, as she wakened fromher trance, beheld them locked in that sad grasp, like two twin statuesof despair. 

They led her to the house, and then the two young men walked out alone, and talked frankly and tranquilly upon the subject. It was determinedthat both should leave Riverside manor on the morrow, and that Orianashould be left to commune with her own heart, and take counsel of timeand meditation. They would not grieve Beverly with their secret, atleast not for the present, when his sister was so ill prepared to bearremonstrance or reproof. Harold wrote a kind letter for Oriana, in whichhe released her from her pledged faith, asking only that she should taketime to study her heart, but in no wise let a sense of duty stand in theway of her happiness. He took pains to conceal the depth of his ownaffliction, and to avoid whatever she might construe as reproach. 

They would have gone without an interview with Oriana, but that wouldhave seemed strange to Beverly. However, Oriana, although pale andnervous, met them in the morning with more composure than they hadanticipated. Harold, just before starting, drew her aside, and placedthe letter in her hand. 

"That will tell you all I would say, and you must read it when yourheart is strong and firm. Do not look so wretched. All may yet be well. I would fain see you smile before I go. "

But though she had evidently nerved herself to be composed, the tearswould come, and her heart seemed rising to her throat and about to burstin sobs. 

"I will be your true wife, Harold, and I will love you. Do not desertme, do not cast me from you. I cannot bear to be so guilty. Indeed, Harold, I will be true and faithful to you. "

"There is no guilt in that young heart, " he answered, as he kissed herforehead. "But now, we must not talk of love; hereafter, perhaps, whentime and absence shall teach us where to choose for happiness. Part fromme now as if I were your brother, and give me a sister's kiss. Would yousee Arthur?"

She trembled and whispered painfully:

"No, Harold, no--I dare not. Oh, Harold, bid him forget me. "

"It is better that you should not see him. Farewell! be brave. We aregood friends, remember. Farewell, dear girl. "

Beverly had been waiting with the carriage, and as the time was short, he called to Harold. Arthur, who stood at the carriage wheel, simplyraised his hat to Oriana, as if in a parting salute. He would have givenhis right hand to have pressed hers for a moment; but his will was iron, and he did not once look back as the carriage whirled away. 

CHAPTER X. 

In the drawing-room of an elegant mansion in a fashionable quarter ofthe city of New York, toward the close of April, a social party wereassembled, distributed mostly in small conversational groups. The headof the establishment, a pompous, well-to-do merchant, stout, short, andbaldheaded, and evidently well satisfied with himself and his positionin society, was vehemently expressing his opinions upon the affairs ofthe nation to an attentive audience of two or three elderly businessmen, with a ponderous earnestness that proved him, in his ownestimation, as much _au fait_ in political affairs as in the routine ofhis counting-room. An individual of middle age, a man of the world, apparently, who was seated at a side-table, carelessly glancing over abook of engravings, was the only one who occasionally exasperated thepompous gentleman with contradictions or ill-timed interruptions. 

"The government must be sustained, " said the stout gentleman, "and we, the merchants of the North, will do it. It is money, sir, money, " hecontinued, unconsciously rattling the coin in his breeches pocket, "thatsettles every question at the present day, and our money will bringthese beggarly rebels to their senses. They can't do without us, sir. They would be ruined in six months, if shut out from commercialintercourse with the North. "

"How long before you would be ruined by the operations of the samecause?" inquired the individual at the side-table. 

"Sir, we of the North hold the wealth of the country in our pockets. They can't fight against our money--they can't do it, sir. "

"Your ancestors fought against money, and fought passably well. "

"Yes, sir, for the great principles of human liberty. "

"Which these rebels believe they are fighting for. You have need of allyour money to keep a respectable army in the field. These Southernersmay have to fight in rags, as insurgents generally do: witness thestruggle of your Revolution; but until you lay waste their corn-fieldsand drive off their cattle, they will have full stomachs, and that, after all, is the first consideration. "

"You are an alien, sir, a foreigner; you know nothing of our greatinstitutions; you know nothing of the wealth of the North, and thespirit of the people. "

"I see a great deal of bunting in the streets, and hear any quantity ofdeclamation at your popular gatherings. But as I journeyed northwardfrom New Orleans, I saw the same in the South--perhaps more of it. "

"And could not distinguish between the frenzy of treason and theenthusiasm of patriotism?"

"Not at all; except that treason seemed more earnest and unanimous. "

"You have seen with the eyes of an Englishman--of one hostile to ourinstitutions. "

"Oh, no; as a man of the world, a traveller, without prejudice orpassion, receiving impressions and noting them. I like your country; Ilike your people. I have observed foibles in the North and in the South, but there is an under-current of strong feeling and good sense which Ihave noted and admired. I think your quarrel is one of foibles--oneconceived in the spirit of petulance, and about to be prosecuted in thespirit of exaltation. I believe the professed mutual hatred of thesections to be superficial, and that it could be cancelled. It isfostered by the bitterness of fanatics, assisted by a very naturaldisinclination on the part of the masses to yield a disputed point. Ifhostilities should cease to-morrow, you would be better friends thanever. "

"But the principle, sir! The right of the thing, and the wrong of thething! Can we parley with traitors? Can we negotiate with armedrebellion? Is it not our paramount duty to set at rest forever thedoctrine of secession?"

"As a matter of policy, perhaps. But as a right, I doubt it. Yourgovernment I look upon as a mere agency appointed by contracting partiesto transact certain affairs for their convenience. Should one or more ofthose contracting parties, sovereignties in themselves, hold it to theirinterest to transact their business without the assistance of an agent, I cannot perceive that the right can be denied by any provision of thecontract. In your case, the employers have dismissed their agent, whoseeks to reinstate the office by force of arms. As justly might mylawyer, when I no longer need his services, attempt to coerce me into acontinuance of business relations, by invading my residence with aloaded pistol. The States, without extinguishing their sovereignty, created the Federal Government; it is the child of State legislation, and now the child seeks to chastise and control the parent. The GeneralGovernment can possess no inherent or self-created function; its power, its very existence, were granted for certain uses. As regards yourState's connection with that Government, no other State has the right tointerfere; but as for another State's connection with it, the power thatmade it can unmake. "

"So you would have the government quietly acquiesce in the robbery ofpublic property, the occupation of Federal strongholds and the seizureof ships and revenues in which they have but a share?"

"If, by the necessity of the case, the seceded States hold in theirpossession more than their share of public property, a division shouldbe made by arbitration, as in other cases where a distribution of commonproperty is required. It may have been a wrong and an insult to bombardFort Sumter and haul down the Federal flag, but that does not establisha right on the part of the Federal Government to coerce the wrong-doingStates into a union with the others. And that, I take it, is the avowedpurpose of your administration. "

"Yes, and that purpose will be fulfilled. We have the money to do it, and we will do it, sir. "

A tall, thin gentleman, with a white cravat and a bilious complexion, approached the party from a different part of the room. 

"It can't be done with money, Mr. Pursely, " said the new comer, "Unlessthe great, the divine principle of universal human liberty is invoked. An offended but merciful Providence has given the people this chance forredemption, in the opportunity to strike the shackle from the slave. Ihold the war a blessing to the nation and to humanity, in that it willcleanse the land from its curse of slavery. It is an invitation from Godto wipe away the record of our past tardiness and tolerance, by strikingat the great sin with fire and sword. The blood of millions isnothing--the woe, the lamentation, the ruin of the land is nothing--theoverthrow of the Union itself is nothing, if we can but win God's smileby setting a brand in the hand of the bondman to scourge his master. Butassuredly unless we arouse the slave to seize the torch and the dagger, and avenge the wrongs of his race, Providence will frown upon ourefforts, and our arms will not prevail. "

A tall man in military undress replied with considerable emphasis:

"Then your black-coated gentry must fight their own battle. The peoplewill not arm if abolition is to be the watchword. I for one will notstrike a blow if it be not understood that the institutions of the Southshall be respected. "

"The government must be sustained, that is the point, " cried Mr. Pursely. "It matters little what becomes of the negro, but thegovernment must be sustained. Otherwise, what security will there befor property, and what will become of trade?"

"Who thinks of trade or property at such a crisis?" interrupted anenthusiast, in figured trowsers and a gay cravat. "Our beloved Unionmust and shall be preserved. The fabric that our fathers reared for usmust not be allowed to crumble. We will prop it with our mangledbodies, " and he brushed a speck of dust from the fine broadcloth of hissleeve. 

"The insult to our flag must be wiped out, " said the military gentleman. "The honor of the glorious stripes and stars must be vindicated to theworld. "

"Let us chastise these boasting Southrons, " said another, "and prove oursupremacy in arms, and I shall be satisfied. "

"But above all, " insisted a third, "we must check the sneers andexultation of European powers, and show them that we have not forgottenthe art of war since the days of 1776 and 1812. "

"I should like to know what you are going to fight about, " said theEnglishman, quietly; "for there appears to be much diversity ofopinion. However, if you are determined to cut each others' throats, perhaps one pretext is as good as another, and a dozen better than onlyone. "

In the quiet recess of a window, shadowed by the crimson curtains, sat afair young girl, and a man, young and handsome, but upon whosecountenance the traces of dissipation and of passion were deeply marked. Miranda Ayleff was a Virginian, the cousin and quondam playmate ofOriana Weems, like her an orphan, and a ward of Beverly. Her companionwas Philip Searle. She had known him in Richmond, and had become muchattached to him, but his habits and character were such, that herfriends, and Beverly chiefly, had earnestly discouraged their intimacy. Philip left for the North, and Miranda, who at the date of our story wasthe guest of Mrs. Pursely, her relative, met him in New York, after aseparation of two years. Philip, who, in spite of his evil ways, wassingularly handsome and agreeable in manners, found little difficulty infanning the old flame, and, upon the plea of old acquaintance, became afrequent visitor upon Miranda at Mr. Pursely's mansion, where we nowfind them, earnestly conversing, but in low tones, in the littlesolitude of the great bay window. 

"You reproach me with vices which your unkindness has helped to stain mewith. Driven from your presence, whom alone I cared to live for, whatmarvel if I sought oblivion in the wine-cup and the dice-box? Give meone chance, Miranda, to redeem myself. Let me call you wife, and youwill become my guardian angel, and save me from myself. "

"You know that I love you, Philip, " she replied, "and willingly would Ishare your destiny, hoping to win you from evil. Go with me to Richmond. We will speak with Beverly, who is kind and truly loves me. We willconvince him of your good purposes, and will win his consent to ourunion. "

"No, Miranda; Beverly and your friends in Richmond will never believe meworthy of you. Besides, it would be dangerous for me to visit Richmond. I have identified myself with the Northern cause, and although, for yoursake, I might refrain from bearing arms against Virginia, yet I havelittle sympathy with any there, where I have been branded as a drunkardand a gambler. "

"Yet, Philip, is it not the land of your birth--the home of yourboyhood?"

"The land of my shame and humiliation. No Miranda, I will not return toVirginia. And if you love me, you will not return. What are thesesenseless quarrels to us? We can be happy in each other's love, andforget that madmen are at war around us. Why will you not trust me, Miranda--why do you thus withhold from me my only hope of redemptionfrom the terrible vice that is killing me? I put my destiny, my verylife in your keeping, and you hesitate to accept the trust that alonecan save me. Oh, Miranda! you do not love me. "

"Philip, I cannot renounce my friends, my dear country, the home of mychildhood. "

"Then look you what will be my fate: I will join the armies of theNorth, and fling away my life in battle against my native soil. Ruin anddeath cannot come too soon when you forsake me. "

Miranda remained silent, but, through the gloom of the recess, he couldsee the glistening of a tear upon her cheek. 

The hall-bell rang, and the servant brought in a card for Miss Ayleff. Following it, Arthur Wayne was ushered into the room. 

She rose to receive him, somewhat surprised at a visit from a stranger. 

"I have brought these letters for you from my good friend BeverlyWeems, " said Arthur. "At his request, I have ventured to call in person, most happy, if you will forgive the presumption, in the opportunity. "

She gave her hand, and welcomed him gracefully and warmly, and, havingintroduced Mr. Searle, excused herself while she glanced at the contentsof Beverly's letter. While thus employed, Arthur marked her changingcolor; and then, lifting his eyes lest his scrutiny might be rude, observed Philip's dark eye fixed upon her with a suspicious andsearching expression. Then Philip looked up, and their glances met--thecalm blue eye and the flashing black--but for an instant, but longenough to confirm the instinctive feeling that there was no sympathybetween their hearts. 

A half-hour's general conversation ensued, but Philip appeared restlessand uneasy, and rose to take his leave. She followed him to the parlordoor. 

"Come to me to-morrow, " she said, as she gave her hand, "and we willtalk again. "

A smile of triumph rested upon his pale lips for a second; but hepressed her hand, and, murmuring an affectionate farewell, withdrew. 

Arthur remained a few moments, but observing that Miranda was pensiveand absent, he bade her good evening, accepting her urgent invitation tocall at an early period. 

CHAPTER XI. 

"Well, Arthur, " said Harold Hare, entering the room of the former at hishotel, on the following evening, "I have come to bid you good bye. Istart for home to-morrow morning, " he added, in reply to Arthur'squestioning glance. "I am to have a company of Providence boys in my oldfriend Colonel R----'s regiment. And after a little brisk recruiting, ho! for Washington and the wars!"

"You have determined for the war, then?"

"Of course. And you?"

"I shall go to my Vermont farm, and live quietly among my books andpastures. "

"A dull life, Arthur, when every wind that blows will bring to your earsthe swell of martial music and the din of arms. "

"If I were in love with the pomp of war, which, thank heaven, I am not, Harold, I would rather dwell in a hermit's cave, than follow the fifeand drum over the bodies of my Southern countrymen. "

"Those Southern countrymen, that you seem to love better than thecountry they would ruin, would have little remorse in marching over yourbody, even among the ashes of your farm-house. Doubtless you would standat your threshold, and welcome their butchery, should their ruffianlegions ravage our land as far as your Green Mountains. "

"I do not think they will invade one foot of Northern soil, unlesscompelled by strict military necessity. However, should the State towhich I owe allegiance be attacked by foreign or domestic foe, I willstand among its defenders. But, dear Harold, let us not argue this sadsubject, which it is grief enough but to contemplate. Tell me of yourplans, and how I shall communicate with you, while you are absent. Mydistress about this unhappy war will be keener, when I feel that my dearfriend may be its victim. "

Harold pressed his hand affectionately, and the two friends spoke of themisty future, till Harold arose to depart. They had not mentionedOriana's name, though she was in their thoughts, and each, as he badefarewell, knew that some part of the other's sadness was for her sake. 

Arthur accompanied Harold a short distance up Broadway, and returning, found at the office of the hotel, a letter, without post-mark, to hisaddress. He stepped into the reading-room to peruse it. It was fromBeverly, and ran thus:

 "RICHMOND, _May_ --, 1861. 

 "DEAR ARTHUR: The departure of a friend gives me an opportunity to write you about a matter that I beg you will attend to, for my sake, thoroughly. I learned this morning, upon receipt of a letter from Mr. Pursely, that Miranda Ayleff, of whom we spoke together, and to whom I presume you have already delivered my communication, is receiving the visits of one Philip Searle, to whom, some two years since, she was much attached. _Entre nous_, Arthur, I can tell you, the man is a scoundrel of the deepest dye. Not only a drunkard and a gambler, but dishonest, and unfit for any decent girl's society. He is guilty of forgery against me, and, against my conscience, I hushed the matter only out of consideration for her feelings. I would still have concealed the matter from her, had this resumption of their intimacy not occurred. But her welfare must cancel all scruples of that character; and I therefore entreat you to see her at once, and unmask the man fully and unequivocally. If necessary you may show my letter for that purpose. I would go on to New York myself immediately, were I not employed upon a State mission of exceeding delicacy and importance; but I have full confidence in your good judgment. Spare no arguments to induce her to return immediately to Richmond. 

 "Oriana has not been well; I know not what ails her, but, though she makes no complaint, the girl seems really ill. She knows not of my writing, for I would not pain her about Miranda, of whom she is very fond. But I can venture, without consulting her, to send you her good wishes. Let me hear from you in full about what I have written. Your friend. 

 "BEVERLY WEEMS. "

 "P. S. --Knowing that you must yet be weak with your late illness, I would have troubled Harold, rather than you, about this matter, but I am ignorant of his present whereabouts, while I know that you contemplated remaining a week or so in New York. Write me about the ugly bite in the shoulder, from which I trust you are well recovered. B. W. "

Arthur looked up from the letter, and beheld Philip Searle seated at theopposite side of the table. He had entered while Arthur's attention wasabsorbed in reading, and having glanced at the address of the envelopewhich lay upon the table, he recognized the hand of Beverly. Thisprompted him to pause, and taking up one of the newspapers which werestrewn about the table, he sat down, and while he appeared to read, glanced furtively at his _vis-à-vis_ over the paper's edge. When hispresence was noticed, he bowed, and Arthur, with a slight and sterninclination of the head, fixed his calm eye upon him with a searchingseverity that brought a flush of anger to Philip's brow. 

"That is Weems' hand, " he muttered, inwardly, "and by that fellow'slook, I fancy that no less a person than myself is the subject of hisepistle. "

Arthur had walked away, but, in his surprise at the unexpected presenceof Searle, he had allowed the letter to remain upon the table. No soonerhad he passed out of the room, than Philip quietly but rapidly stretchedhis hand beneath the pile of scattered journals, and drew it toward him. It required but an instant for his quick eye to catch the substance. Hisface grew livid, and his teeth grated harshly with suppressed rage. 

"We shall have a game of plot and counterplot before this ends, myman, " he muttered. 

There were pen and paper on the table, and he wrote a few lines hastily, placed them in the envelope, and put Beverly's letter in his pocket. Hehad hardly finished when Arthur reëntered the room, advanced rapidly tothe table, and, with a look of relief, took up the envelope and itscontents, and again left the room. Philip's lip curled beneath the blackmoustache with a smile of triumphant malice. 

"Keep it safe in your pocket for a few hours, my gamecock, and myheiress to a beggar-girl, I'll have stone walls between you and me. "

CHAPTER XII. 

The evening was somewhat advanced, but Arthur determined at once to seekan interview with Miss Ayleff. Hastily arranging his toilet, he walkedbriskly up Broadway, revolving in his mind a fit course for fulfillinghis delicate errand. 

To shorten his way, he turned into a cross street in the upper part ofthe city. As he approached the hall door of a large brick house, his eyechanced to fall upon a man who was ringing for admittance. The lightfrom the street lamp fell full upon his face, and he recognized thefeatures of Philip Searle. At that moment the door was opened, andPhilip entered. Arthur would have passed on, but something in theappearance of the house arrested his attention, and, on closer scrutiny, revealed to him its character. One of those impulses which sometimessway our actions, tempted him to enter, and learn, if possible, something further respecting the habits of the man whose scheme he hadbeen commissioned to thwart. A moment's reflection might have changedhis purpose, but his hand was already upon the bell, and the summons wasquickly answered by a good-looking but faded young woman, with paintedcheeks and gay attire. She fixed her keen, bold eyes upon him for a fewseconds, and then, tossing her ringlets, pertly invited him to enter. 

"Who is within?" asked Arthur, standing in the hall. 

"Only the girls. Walk in. "

"The gentleman who came in before me, is he there?"

"Do you want to see him?" she asked, suspiciously. 

"Oh, no. Only I would avoid being seen by any one. "

"He will not see you. Come right in. " And she threw open the door, andflaunted in. 

Arthur followed her without hesitation. 

Bursts of forced and cheerless laughter, and the shrill sound of rudeand flippant talk, smote unpleasantly upon his ear. The room was richlyfurnished, but without taste or modesty. The tall mirrors were displayedwith ostentation, and the paintings, offensive in design, hungconspicuous in showy frames. The numerous gas jets, flashing amongglittering crystal pendants, made vice more glaring and heartlessnessmore terribly apparent. Women, with bold and haggard eyes, with brazenbrows, and cheeks from which the roses of virgin shame had been pluckedto bloom no more forever--mostly young girls, scourging their youth intoold age, and gathering poison at once for soul and body--with sensualindolence reclined upon the rich ottomans, or with fantastic gracewhirled through lewd waltzes over the velvet carpets. There was laughterwithout joy--there was frivolity without merriment--there was thesurface of enjoyment and the substance of woe, for beneath those paintedcheeks was the pallor of despair and broken health, and beneath thosewhitened bosoms, half veiled with gaudy silks, were hearts that wereaching with remorse, or, yet more unhappy, benumbed and callous withhabitual sin. 

Yet there, like a crushed pearl upon a heap of garbage, lingers thetrace of beauty; and there, surely, though sepulchred in the caverns ofvice, dwells something that was once innocence, and not unredeemable. But whence is the friendly word to come, whence the guardian hand thatmight lift them from the slough. They live accursed by even charity, shunned by philanthropy, and shut from the Christian world like a tribeof lepers whose touch is contagion and whose breath is pestilence. Inthe glittering halls of fashion, the high-born beauty, with wreathsabout her white temples and diamonds upon her chaste bosom, gives hergloved hand for the dance, and forgets that an erring sister, by thetouch of those white fingers, might be raised from the grave of herchastity, and clothed anew with the white garments of repentance. Butno; the cold world of fashion, that from its cushioned pew has listenedwith stately devotion to the words of the Redeemer, has taught her thatto redeem the fallen is beneath her caste. The bond of sisterhood isbroken. The lost one must pursue her hideous destiny, each avenue ofescape blocked by the scorn and loathing which denies her the contact ofvirtue and the counsel of purity. In the broad fields of charity, invaded by cold philosophers, losing themselves in searching unreal andvague philanthropies, none so practical in beneficence as to take her bythe hand, saying, "Go, and sin no more. "

But whenever the path of benevolence is intricate and doubtful, wheneverthe work is linked with a riddle whose solving will breed discord andtrouble among men, whenever there is a chance to make philanthropy aplea for hate, and bitterness and charity can be made a battle-cry toarouse the spirit of destruction, and spread ruin and desolation overthe fair face of the earth, then will the domes of our churches resoundwith eloquence, then will the journals of the land teem with theirmystic theories, then will the mourners of human woe be loud inlamentation, and lift up their mighty voices to cry down an abstractevil. When actual misery appeals to them, they are deaf; when the plainand palpable error stalks before them, they turn aside. They are toobusy with the tangles of some philanthropic Gordian knot, to stretch outa helping hand to the sufferer at their sides. They are frenzied withtheir zeal to build a bridge over a spanless ocean, while the drowningwretch is sinking within their grasp. They scorn the simple charity ofthe good Samaritan; theirs must be a gigantic and splendid achievementin experimental beneficence, worthy of their philosophic brains. Thewrong they would redress must be one that half the world esteems aright; else there would be no room for their arguments, no occasion fortheir invective, no excuse for their passion. To do good is too simplefor their transcendentalism; they must first make evil out of theirlogic, and then, through blood and wasting flames, drive on the peopleto destruction, that the imaginary evil may be destroyed. While Charitysoars so high among the clouds, she will never stoop to lift theMagdalen from sin. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

Arthur heaved an involuntary sigh, as he gazed upon those sad wrecks ofwomanhood, striving to harden their sense of degradation by its impudentdisplay. But an expression of bewildered and sorrowful surprise suddenlyoverspread his countenance. Seated alone upon a cushioned stool, at thechimney-corner, was a young woman, her elbows resting upon her knees, and her face bent thoughtfully upon her palms. She was apparently lostin thought to all around her. She was thinking--of what? Perhaps of thegreen fields where she played in childhood; perhaps of her days ofinnocence; perhaps of the mother at whose feet she had once knelt inprayer. But she was far away, in thought, from that scene of infamy ofwhich she was a part; for, in the glare of the gaslight, a tearstruggled through her eyelashes, and glittered like a ray from heavenpiercing the glooms of hell. 

Arthur walked to her, and placed his hand softly upon her yellow hair. 

"Oh, Mary!" he murmured, in a tone of gentle sorrow, that soundedstrangely amid the discordant merriment that filled the room. 

She looked up, at his touch, but when his voice fell upon her ear, shearose suddenly and stood before him like one struck dumb betwixthumiliation and wonder. The angel had not yet fled that bosom, for theblush of shame glowed through the chalk upon her brow and outcrimsonedthe paint upon her cheek. As it passed away, she would have wreathed herlip mechanically with the pert smile of her vocation, but the smile wasfrozen ere it reached her lips, and the coarse words she would havespoken died into a murmur and a sob. She sank down again upon thecushion, and bent her face low down upon her hands. 

"Oh, Mary! is it you! is it you! I pray heaven your mother be in hergrave!"

She rose and escaped quickly from the room; but he followed her andchecked her at the stairway. 

"Let me speak with you, Mary. No, not here; lead me to your room. "

He followed her up-stairs, and closing the door, sat beside her as sheleaned upon the bed and buried her face in the pillow. 

It was the child of his old nurse. Upon the hill-sides of his nativeState they had played together when children, and now she lay therebefore him, with scarce enough of woman's nature left to weep for herown misery. 

"Mary, how is this? Look up, child, " he said, taking her hand kindly. "Ihad rather see you thus, bent low with sorrow, than bold and hard inguilt. But yet look up and speak to me. I will be your friend, you know. Tell me, why are you thus?"

"Oh, Mr. Wayne, do not scold me, please don't. I was thinking of homeand mother when you came and put your hand on my head. Mother's dead. "

"Well for her, poor woman. But how came you thus?"

"I scarcely seem to know. It seems to me a dream. I married John, and hebrought me to New York. Then the war came, and he went and was killed. And mother was dead, and I had no friends in the great city. I could getno work, and I was starving, indeed I was, Mr. Wayne. So a young man, who was very handsome, and rich, I think, for he gave me money and finedresses, he promised me--Oh, Mr. Wayne, I was very wrong and foolish, and I wish I could die, and be buried by my poor mother. "

"And did he bring you here?"

"Oh no, sir. I came here two weeks ago, after he had left me. And whenhe came in one night and found me here, he was very angry, and said hewould kill me if I told any one that I knew him. And I know why; but youwon't tell, Mr. Wayne, for it would make him angry. I have found outthat he is married to the mistress of this house. He's a bad man, I knownow, and often comes here drunk, and swears at the woman and the girls. Hark! that's her room, next to mine, and I think he's in there now. "

The faint sound of voices, smothered by the walls, reached them from theadjoining chamber; but as they listened, the door of that room opened, and the loud and angry tones of a man, speaking at the threshold, couldbe distinctly heard. Arthur quietly and carefully opened the door ofMary's room, an inch or less, and listened at the aperture. He was notmistaken; he recognized the voice of Philip Searle. 

"I'll do it, anyhow, " said Philip, angrily, and with the thick utteranceof one who had been drinking. "I'll do it; and if you trouble me, I'llfix you. "

"Philip, if you marry that girl I'll peach; I will, so help me G--d, "replied a woman's voice. "I've given you the money, and I've given youplenty before, as much as I had to give you, Philip, and you know it. Idon't mind that, but you shan't marry till I'm dead. I'm your lawfulwife, and if I'm low now, it's your fault, for you drove me to it. "

"I'll drive you to hell if you worry me. I tell you she's got lots ofmoney, and a farm, and niggers, and you shall have half if you only keepyour mouth shut. Come, now, Molly, don't be a fool; what's the use, now?"

They went down the stairway together, and their voices were lost as theydescended. Arthur determined to follow and get some clue, if possible, as to the man's, intentions. He therefore gave his address to Mary, andmade her promise faithfully to meet him on the following morning, promising to befriend her and send her to his mother in Vermont. Hearingthe front door close, and surmising that Philip had departed, he badeher good night, and descending hastily, was upon the sidewalk in time toobserve Philip's form in the starlight as he turned the corner. 

It was now ten o'clock; too late to call upon Miranda without disturbingthe household, which he desired to avoid. Arthur's present fear was thatpossibly an elopement had been planned for that night, and he thereforedetermined, if practicable, to keep Searle in view till he had tracedhim home. The latter entered a refreshment saloon upon Broadway; Arthurfollowed, and ordering, in a low tone, some dish that would require timein the preparation, he stepped, without noise, into an alcove adjoiningone whence came the sound of conversation. 

"Well, what's up?" inquired a gruff, coarse voice. 

"Fill me some brandy, " replied Philip. "I tell you, Bradshaw, it'srisky, but I'll do it. The old woman's rock. She'll blow upon me if shegets the chance; but I'm in for it, and I'll put it through. We mustmanage to keep it mum from her, and as soon as I get the girl I'llaccept the lieutenancy, and be off to the wars till all blows over. IfMoll should smoke me out there, I'll cross the line and take sanctuarywith Jeff. Davis. "

"What about the girl?"

"Oh; she's all right, " replied Philip, with a drunken chuckle. "I had aninterview with the dear creature this morning, and she's like wax in myhands. It's all arranged for to-morrow morning. You be sure to have thecarriage ready at the Park--the same spot, you know--by ten o'clock. She can't well get away before, but that will be time enough for thetrain. "

"I want that money now. "

"Moll's hard up, but I got a couple of hundred from her. Here's fiftyfor you; now don't grumble, I'm doing the best I can, d--n you, and youknow it. Now listen--I want to fix things with you about that blue-eyedchap. "

The waiter here brought in Arthur's order, and a sudden silence ensuedin the alcove. The two men had evidently been unaware of the proximityof a third party, and their tone, though low, had not been sufficientlyguarded to escape Arthur hearing, whose ear, leaning against the thinpartition, was within a few inches of Philip's head. A muttered curseand the gurgling of liquor from a decanter was all that could be heardfor the space of a few-moments, when the two, after a brief whisper, arose and left the place, not, however, without making ineffectualefforts to catch a glimpse of the occupant of the tenanted alcove. Arthur soon after followed them into the street. He was aware that hewas watched from the opposite corner, and that his steps were dogged inthe darkness. But he drew his felt hat well over his face, and bymingling with the crowd that chanced to be pouring from one of thetheatres, he avoided recognition and passed unnoticed into his hotel. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Arthur felt ill and much fatigued when he retired to rest, and wasrestless and disturbed with fever throughout the night. He hadovertasked his delicate frame, yet scarce recovered from the effects ofrecent suffering, and he arose in the morning with a feeling ofprostration that he could with difficulty overcome. However, herefreshed himself with a cup of tea, and prepared to call upon MissAyleff. It was but seven o'clock, a somewhat early hour for a morningvisit, but the occasion was one for little ceremony. As he was on thepoint of leaving his room, there was a peremptory knock at the door, and, upon his invitation to walk in, a stranger entered. It was agentlemanly personage, with a searching eye and a calm and quiet manner. Arthur was vexed to be delayed, but received the intruder with a civilinclination of the head, somewhat surprised, however, that no card hadbeen sent to give him intimation of the visit. 

"Are you Mr. Arthur Wayne?" inquired the stranger. 

"I am he, " replied Arthur. "Be seated, sir. "

"I thank you. My name is ----. I am a deputy United States marshal ofthis district. "

Arthur bowed, and awaited a further statement of the purpose of hisvisit. 

"You have lately arrived from Virginia, I understand?"

"A few days since, sir--from a brief sojourn in the vicinity ofRichmond. "

"And yesterday received a communication from that quarter?"

"I did. A letter from an intimate acquaintance. "

"My office will excuse me from an imputation of inquisitiveness. May Isee that letter?"

"Excuse me, sir. Its contents are of a private and delicate nature, andintended only for my own perusal. "

"It is because its contents are of that nature that I am constrained toask you for it. Pardon me, Mr. Wayne; but to be brief and frank you, Imust either receive that communication by your good will, or call in myofficers, and institute a search. I am sure you will not make my dutymore unpleasant than necessary. "

Arthur paused awhile. He was conscious that it would be impossible forhim to avoid complying with the marshal's request, and yet it was mostannoying to be obliged to make a third party cognizant of the factscontained in Beverly's epistle. 

"I have no desire to oppose you in the performance of your functions, "he finally replied, "but really there are very particular reasons whythe contents of this letter should not be made public. "

A very faint indication of a smile passed over the marshal's seriousface; Arthur did not observe it, but continued:

"I will hand you the letter, for I perceive there has been some mistakeand misapprehension which of course it is your duty to clear up. But youmust promise me that, when your perusal of it shall have satisfied youthat its nature is strictly private, and not offensive to the law, youwill return it me and preserve an inviolable secrecy as to itscontents. "

"When I shall be satisfied on that score, I will do as you desire. "

Arthur handed him the letter, somewhat to the other's surprise, for hehad certainly been watching for an attempt at its destruction, or atleast was prepared for prevarication and stratagem. He took the paperfrom its envelope and read it carefully. It was in the following words:

 Richmond, _May_ --, 1861. 

 Dear Arthur: This will be handed to you by a sure hand. Communicate freely with the bearer--he can be trusted. The arms can be safely shipped as he represents, and you will therefore send them on at once. Your last communication was of great service to the cause, and, although I would be glad to have you with us, the President thinks you are too valuable, for the present, where you are. When you come, the commission will be ready for you. Yours truly, Beverly Weems, Capt. C. S. A. 

"Are you satisfied?" inquired Arthur, after the marshal had silentlyconcluded his examination of the document. 

"Perfectly satisfied, " replied the other, placing the letter in hispocket. "Mr. Wayne, it is my duty to arrest you. "

"Arrest me!"

"In the name of the United States. "

"For what offence?"

"Treason. "

Arthur remained for a while silent with astonishment. At last, as themarshal arose and took his hat, he said:

"I cannot conceive what act or word of mine can be construed astreasonable. There is some mistake, surely; I am a quiet man, a strangerin the city, and have conversed with but one or two persons since myarrival. Explain to me, if you please, the particular nature of thecharge against me. "

"It is not my province, at this moment, to do so, Mr. Wayne. It issufficient that, upon information lodged with me last evening, andforwarded to Washington by telegraph, I received from the Secretary ofWar orders for your immediate arrest, should I find the informationtrue. I have found it true, and I arrest you. "

"Surely, nothing in that letter can be so misconstrued as to implicateme. "

"Mr. Wayne, this prevarication is as useless as it is unseemly. You_know_ that the letter is sufficient warrant for my proceeding. Mycarriage is at the door. I trust you will accompany me without furtherdelay. "

"Sir, I was about to proceed, when you entered, upon an errand thatinvolves the safety and happiness of the young lady mentioned in thatletter. The letter itself will inform you of the circumstance, and Iassure you, events are in progress that require my immediate action. Youwill at least allow me to visit the party?"

The marshal looked at him with surprise. 

"What party?"

"The lady of whom my friend makes mention. "

"I do not understand you. I can only conceive that, for some purpose ofyour own, you are anxious to gain time. I must request you to accompanyme at once to the carriage. "

"You will permit me at least to send a, letter--a word--a warning?"

"That your accomplice may receive information? Assuredly not. "

"Be yourself the messenger--or send"----

"This subterfuge is idle. " He opened the door and stood beside it. "Imust request your company to the carriage. "

Arthur's cheek flushed for a moment with anger. 

"This severity, " he said, "is ridiculous and unjust. I tell you, you andthose for whom you act will be accountable for a great crime--forinnocence betrayed--for a young life made desolate--for perhaps adishonored grave. I plead not for myself, but for one helpless and pure, who at this hour may be the victim of a villain's plot. In the name ofhumanity, I entreat you give me but time to avert the calamity, and Iwill follow you without remonstrance. Go with me yourself. Be present atthe interview. Of what consequence to you will be an hour's delay?"

"It may be of much consequence to those who are in league with you. Icannot grant your request. You must come with me, sir, or I shall beobliged to call for assistance, " and he drew a pair of handcuffs fromhis pocket. 

Arthur perceived that further argument or entreaty would be of no avail. He was much agitated and distressed beyond measure at the possiblemisfortune to Miranda, which, by this untimely arrest, he was powerlessto avert. Knowing nothing of the true contents of the letter whichPhilip had substituted for the one received from Beverly, he could notimagine an excuse for the marshal's inflexibility. He was quite ill, too, and what with fever and agitation, his brain was in a whirl. Heleaned against the chair, faint and dispirited. The painful cough, theharbinger of that fatal malady which had already brought a sister to anearly grave, oppressed him, and the hectic glowed upon his pale cheeks. The marshal approached him, and laid his hand gently on his shoulder. 

"You seem ill, " he said; "I am sorry to be harsh with you, but I must domy duty. They will make you as comfortable as possible at the fort. Butyou must come. "

Arthur followed him mechanically, and like one in a dream. They steppedinto the carriage and were driven rapidly away; but Arthur, as heleaned back exhausted in his seat, murmured sorrowfully:

"And poor little Mary, too! Who will befriend her now?"

CHAPTER XV. 

In the upper apartment of a cottage standing alone by the roadside onthe outskirts of Boston, Miranda, pale and dejected, sat gazing vacantlyat the light of the solitary lamp that lit the room. The clock wasstriking midnight, and the driving rain beat dismally against thewindow-blinds. But one month had passed since her elopement with PhilipSearle, yet her wan cheeks and altered aspect revealed how much ofsuffering can be crowded into that little space of time. She startedfrom her revery when the striking of the timepiece told the lateness ofthe hour. Heavy footsteps sounded upon the stairway, and, while shelistened, Philip, followed by Bradshaw, entered the room abruptly. 

"How is this?" asked Philip, angrily. "Why are you not in bed?"

"I did not know it was so late, Philip, " she answered, in a deprecatingtone. "I was half asleep upon the rocking-chair, listening to thestorm. It's a bad night, Philip. How wet you are!"

He brushed off the hand she had laid upon his shoulder, and muttered, with bad humor:

"I've told you a dozen times I don't want you to sit up for me. Fetchthe brandy and glasses, and go to bed. "

"Oh, Philip, it is so late! Don't drink: to-night, Philip. You are wet, and you look tired. Come to bed. "

"Do as I tell you, " he answered, roughly, flinging himself into a chair, and beckoning Bradshaw to a seat. Miranda sighed, and brought the bottleand glasses from the closet. 

"Now, you go to sleep, do you hear; and don't be whining and crying allnight, like a sick girl. "

The poor girl moved slowly to the door, and turned at the threshold. 

"Good night, Philip. "

"Oh, good night--there, get along, " he cried, impatiently, withoutlooking at her, and gulping down a tumblerful of spirits. Miranda closedthe door and left the two men alone together. 

They remained silent for a while, Bradshaw quietly sipping his liquor, and Philip evidently disturbed and angry. 

"You're sure 'twas she?" he asked at last. 

"Oh, bother!" replied Bradshaw. "I'm not a mole nor a blind man. Don't Iknow Moll when I see her?"

"Curse her! she'll stick to me like a leech. What could have brought herhere? Do you think she's tracked me?"

"She'd track you through fire, if she once got on the scent. Moll ain'tthe gal to be fooled, and you know it. "

"What's to be done?"

"Move out of this. Take the girl to Virginia. You'll be safe enoughthere. "

"You're right, Bradshaw. It's the best way. I ought to have done it atfirst. But, hang the girl, she'll weary me to death with her sermons andcrying fits. Moll's worth two of her for that, matter--she scolds, butat least she never would look like a stuck fawn when I came home alittle queer. For the matter of that, she don't mind a spree herself attimes. " And, emptying his glass, the libertine laughed at theremembrance of some past orgies. 

While he was thus, in his half-drunken mood, consoling himself forpresent perplexities by dwelling upon the bacchanalian joys of otherdays, a carriage drove up the street, and stopped before the door. Soonafterward, the hall bell was rung, and Philip, alarmed and astonished, started from his seat. 

"Who's that?" he asked, almost in a whisper. 

"Don't know, " replied his companion. 

"She couldn't have traced me here already--unless you have betrayed me, Bradshaw, " he added suddenly, darting a suspicious glance upon hiscomrade. 

"You're just drunk enough to be a fool, " replied Bradshaw, rising fromhis seat, as a second summons, more violent than the first, echoedthrough the corridors. "I'll go down and see what's the matter. Someone's mistaken the house, I suppose. That's all. "

"Let no one in, Bradshaw, " cried Philip, as that worthy left the room. He descended the stairs, opened the door, and presently afterward thecarriage drove rapidly away. Philip, who had been listening earnestly, could hear the sound of the wheels as they whirled over the pavement. 

"All right, " he said, as he applied himself once more to the bottlebefore him. "Some fool has mistaken his whereabouts. Curse me, but I'mgetting as nervous as an old woman. "

He was in the act of lifting the glass to his lips, when the door wasflung wide open. The glass fell from his hands, and shivered upon thefloor. Moll stood before him. 

She stood at the threshold with a wicked gleam in her eye, and a smileof triumph upon her lips; then advanced into the room, closed the doorquietly, locked it, seated herself composedly in the nearest chair, andfilled herself a glass of spirits. Philip glared upon her with anexpression of mingled anger, fear and wonderment. 

"Are you a devil? Where in thunder did you spring from?" he asked atlast. 

"You'll make me a devil, with your tricks, Philip Searle, " she said, sipping the liquor, and looking at him wickedly over the rim of thetumbler. 

"Ha! ha! ha!" she laughed aloud, as he muttered a curse between hisclenched teeth, "I'm not the country girl, Philip dear, that I was whenyou whispered your sweet nonsense in my ear. I know your game, my bullyboy, and I'll play you card for card. "

"Bradshaw" shouted Philip, going to the door and striving to open it. 

"It's no use, " she said, "I've got the key in my pocket. Sit down. Iwant to talk to you. Don't be a fool. "

"Where's Bradshaw, Moll?"

"At the depot by this time, I fancy, for the carriage went off at adeuce of a rate. "

She laughed again, while he paced the room with angry strides. 

"'Twas he, then, that betrayed me. The villain! I'll have his life forthat, as I'm a sinner. "

"Your a great sinner; Philip Searle. Sit down, now, and be quiet. Where's the girl?"

"What girl?"

"Miranda Ayleff. The girl you've ruined; the girl you've put in myplace, and that I've come to drive out of it. Where is she?"

"Don't speak so loud, Moll. Be quiet, can't you? See here, Moll, " hecontinued, drawing a chair to her side, and speaking in his old winningway--"see here, Moll: why can't you just let this matter stand as it is, and take your share of the plunder? You know I don't care about thegirl; so what difference does it make to you, if we allow her to thinkthat she's my lawful wife? Come, give us a kiss, Moll, and let's hear nomore about it. "

"Honey won't catch such an old fly as I am, Philip, " replied the woman, but with a gentled tone. "Where is the girl?" she asked suddenly, starting from the chair. "I want to see her. Is she in there?"

"No, " said Philip, quickly, and rising to her passage to the door ofMiranda's chamber. "She is not there, Moll; you can't see her. Are youcrazy? You'd frighten the poor girl out of her senses. "

"She's in there. I'm going in to speak with her. Yes I shall, Philip, and you needn't stop me. "

"Keep back. Keep quiet, can't you?"

"No. Don't hold me, Philip Searle. Keep your hands off me, if you knowwhat's good for you. "

She brushed past him, and laid her hand upon the door-knob; but heseized her violently by the arm and pulled her back. The action hurt herwrist, and she was boiling with rage in a second. With her clenchedfist, she struck him straight in the face repeatedly, while with everyblow, she screamed out an imprecation. 

"Keep quiet, you hag! Keep quiet, confound you!" said the infuriatedman. "Won't you? Take that!" and he planted his fist upon her mouth. 

The woman, through her tears and sobs, howled at him curse upon curse. With one hand upon her throat, he essayed to choke her utterance, andthus they scuffled about the room. 

"I'll cut you, Philip; I will, by ----"

Her hand, in fact, was fumbling about her pocket, and she drew forth asmall knife and thrust it into his shoulder. They were near the table, over which Philip had thrust her down. He was wild with rage and thebrandy he had drank. His right hand instinctively grasped the heavybottle that by chance it came in contact with. The next instant, itdescended full upon her forehead, and with a moan of fear and pain, shefell like lead upon the floor, and lay bleeding and motionless. 

Philip, still grasping the shattered bottle, gazed aghast upon thelifeless form. Then a cry of terror burst upon his ear. He turned, andbeheld Miranda, with dishevelled hair, pale as her night-clothes, standing at the threshold of the open door. With a convulsive shudder, she staggered into the room, and fainted at his feet, her white armstained with the blood that was sinking in little pools into the carpet. 

He stood there gazing from one to the other, but without seeking tosuccor either. The fumes of brandy, and the sudden revulsion from activewrath to apathy, seemed to stupefy his brain. At last he stooped besidethe outstretched form of Molly, and, with averted face, felt in herpocket and drew out the key. Stealthily, as if he feared that they couldhear him, he moved toward the door, opened it, and passing through, closed it gently, as one does who would not waken a sleeping child orinvalid. Rapidly, but with soft steps, he descended the stairs, and wentout into the darkness and the storm. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

When Miranda awakened from her swoon, the lamp was burning dimly, andthe first light of dawn came faintly through the blinds. All was stillaround her, and for some moments she could not recall the terrible scenewhich had passed before her eyes. Presently her fingers came in contactwith the clots of gore that were thickening on her garment, and shearose quickly, and, with a shudder, tottered against the wall. Her eyesfell upon Moll's white face, the brow mangled and bruised, and thedishevelled hair soaking in the crimson tide that kept faintly oozingfrom the cut. She was alone in the house with that terrible object; forPhilip, careless of her convenience, had only procured the services of agirl from a neighboring farm-house, who attended to the household dutiesduring the day, and went home in the evening. But her womanly compassionwas stronger than her sense of horror, and kneeling by the side of theprostrate woman, with inexpressible relief she perceived, by the slightpulsation of the heart, that life was there. Entering her chamber, shehastily put on a morning wrapper, and returning with towel and water, raised Moll's head upon her lap, and washed the thick blood from herface. The cooling moisture revived the wounded woman; her bosom swelledwith a deep sigh, and she opened her eyes and looked languidly around. 

"How do you feel now, madam?" asked Miranda, gently. 

"Who are you?" said Moll, in reply, after a moment's pause. 

"Miranda--Miranda Searle, the wife of Philip, " she added, trembling atthe remembrance of the woman's treatment at her husband's hands. 

Molly raised herself with an effort, and sat upon the floor, looking atMiranda, while she laughed with a loud and hollow sound. 

"Philip's wife, eh? And you love him, don't you? Well, dreams can't lastforever. "

"Don't you feel strong enough to get up and lie upon the bed?" askedMiranda, soothingly, for she was uncomfortable tinder the strange glarethat the woman fixed upon her. 

"I'm well enough, " said Moll. "Where's Philip?"

"Indeed, I do not know. I am very sorry, ma'am, that--that"--

"Never mind. Give me a glass of water. "

Miranda hastened to comply, and Moll swallowed the water, and remainedsilent for a moment. 

"Shan't I go for assistance?" asked Miranda, who was anxious to put anend to this painful interview, and was also distressed about herhusband's absence. "There's no one except ourselves in the house, but Ican go to the farmer's house near by. "

"Not for the world, " interrupted Moll, taking her by the arm. "I'm wellenough. Here, let me lean on you. That's it. I'll sit on therocking-chair. Thank you. Just bind my head up, will you? Is it an uglycut?" she asked, as Miranda, having procured some linen, carefullybandaged the wounded part. 

"Oh, yes! It's very bad. Does it pain you much, ma'am?"

"Never mind. There, that will do. Now sit down there. Don't be afraid ofme. I ain't a-going to hurt you. It's only the cut that makes me look sougly. "

"Oh, no! I am not at all afraid, ma'am, " said Miranda, shuddering inspite of herself. 

"You are a sweet-looking girl, " said Moll, fixing her haggard, but yetbeautiful eyes upon the fragile form beside her. "It's a pity you mustbe unhappy. Has that fellow been unkind to you?"

"What fellow madam?"

"Philip. "

"He is my husband, madam, " replied Miranda, mildly, but with theslightest accent of displeasure. 

"He is, eh? Hum! You love him dearly, don't you?"

Miranda blushed, and asked:

"Do you know my husband?"

"Know him! If you knew him as well, it would be better for you. You'llknow him well enough before long. You come from Virginia, don't you?"

"Yes. "

"You must go back there. "

"If Philip wishes it. "

"I tell you, you must go at once--to-day. I will give you money, if youhave none. And you must never speak of what has happened in this house. Do you understand me?"

"But Philip"--

"Forget Philip. You must never see him any more. Why should you want to?Don't you know that he's a brute, and will beat you as he beat me, ifyou stay with him. Why should you care about him?"

"He is my husband, and you should not speak about him so to me, " saidMiranda, struggling with her tears, and scarce knowing in what vein toconverse with the rude woman, whose strange language bewildered andfrightened her. 

"Bah!" said Moll, roughly. "You're a simpleton. There, don't cry, thoughheaven knows you've cause enough, poor thing! Philip Searle's a villain. I could send him to the State prison if I chose. "

"Oh, no! don't say that; indeed, don't. "

"I tell you I could; but I will not, if you mind me, and do what I tellyou. I'm a bad creature, but I won't harm you, if I can help it. Youhelped me when I was lying there, after that villain hurt me, and Ican't help liking you. And yet you've hurt me, too. "

"I!"

"Yes. Shall I tell you a story? Poor girl! you're wretched enough now, but you'd better know the truth at once. Listen to me: I was an innocentgirl, like you, once. Not so beautiful, perhaps, and not so good; for Iwas always proud and willful, and loved to have my own way. I was acountry girl, and had money left to me by my dead parents. A young manmade my acquaintance. He was gay and handsome, and made me believe thathe loved me. Well, I married him--do you hear? I married him--at thechurch, with witnesses, and a minister to make me his true and lawfulwife. Curse him! I wish he had dropped down dead at the altar. There, you needn't shudder; it would have been well for you if he had. Imarried him, and then commenced my days of sorrow and--of guilt. Hesquandered my money at the gambling-table, and I was sometimes in ragsand without food. He was drunk half the time, and abused me; but I waseven with him there, and gave him as good as he gave me. He taught me todrink, and such a time as we sometimes made together would have madeSatan blush. I thought I was low enough; but he drove me lower yet. Heput temptation in my way--he did, curse his black heart! though hedenied it. I fell as low as woman can fall, and then I suppose you thinkhe left me? Well, he did, for a time; he went off somewhere, and perhapsit was then he was trying to ruin some other girl, as foolish as I hadbeen. But he came back, and got money from me--the wages of my sin. Andall the while, he was as handsome, and could talk as softly as if he wasa saint. And with that smooth tongue and handsome face he won anotherbride, and married her--married her, I tell you; and that's why I cansend him to the State prison. "

"Send him! Who? My God! what do you mean?" cried Miranda, rising slowlyfrom her chair, with clasped hands and ashen cheeks. 

"Philip Searle, my husband!" shouted Moll, rising also, and standingwith gleaming eyes before the trembling girl. 

Miranda sank slowly back into her seat, tearless, but shuddering aswith an ague fit. Only from her lips, with a moaning sound, a murmurcame:

"No, no, no! oh, no!"

"May God strike me dead this instant, if it is not true!" said Moll, sadly; for she felt for the poor girl's, distress. 

Miranda rose, her hands pressed tightly against her heart, and movedtoward the door with tottering and uncertain steps, like one whosuffocates and seeks fresh air. Then her white lips were stained withpurple; a red stream gushed from her mouth and dyed the vestment on herbosom; and ere Moll could reach her, she had sunk, with an agonizingsob, upon the floor. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

The night after the unhappy circumstance we have related, in thebar-room of a Broadway hotel, in New York city, a colonel of volunteers, moustached and uniformed, and evidently in a very unmilitary conditionof unsteadiness, was entertaining a group of convivial acquaintances, with bacchanalian exercises and martian gossip. 

He had already, with a month's experience at the seat of war, culled theglories of unfought fields, and was therefore an object of admiration tohis civilian friends, and of envy to several unfledged heroes, whosemaiden swords had as yet only jingled on the pavement of Broadway, orflashed in the gaslight of saloons. They were yet none the lessconscious of their own importance, these embryo Napoleons, but woretheir shoulder straps with a killing air, and had often, on a sunnyafternoon, stood the fire of bright eyes from innumerable promenadingbatteries, with gallantry, to say the least. 

And now they stood, like Caesars, amid clouds of smoke, and wieldedtheir formidable goblets with the ease of veterans, though not alwayswith a soldierly precision. And why should they not? Their tailors hadmade them heroes, every one; and they had never yet once led the van ina retreat. 

"And how's Tim?" asked one of the black-coated hangers-on uponprospective glory. 

"Tim's in hot water, " answered the colonel, elevating his chin and elbowwith a gesture more suggestive of Bacchus than of Mars. 

"Hot brandy and water would be more like him, " said the acknowledged witof the party, looking gravely at the sugar in his empty glass, as ifindifferent to the bursts of laughter which rewarded his appropriatesally. 

"I'll tell you about it, " said the colonel. "Fill up, boys. Thompson, take a fresh segar. "

Thompson took it, and the boys filled up, while the colonel flung down aspecimen of Uncle Sam's eagle with an emphasis that demonstrated whathe would do for the bird when opportunity offered. 

"You see, we had a party of Congressmen in camp, and were cracking somechampagne bottles in the adjutant's tent. We considered it a militarynecessity to floor the legislators, you know; but one old senator wastough as a siege-gun, and wouldn't even wink at his third bottle. So thecorks flew about like minié balls, but never a man but was too good asoldier to cry 'hold, enough. ' As for that old demijohn of a senator, itseemed he couldn't hold enough, and wouldn't if he could; so we directedthe main battle against him, and opened a masked battery upon him, byuncovering a bottle of Otard; but he never flinched. It was a game of_Brag_ all over, and every one kept ordering 'a little more grape. 'Presently, up slaps a mounted aid, galloping like mad, and in tumblesthe sleepy orderly for the officer of the day. 

"'That's you, Tim, ' says I. But Tim was just then singing the StarSpangled Banner in a convivial whisper to the tune of the Red, White, and Blue, and wouldn't be disturbed on no account. 

"'Tumble out, Tim, ' says I, 'or I'll have you court-martialled andshot. '

"'In the neck, ' says Tim. But he did manage to tumble out, and finishedthe last stanzas with a flourish, for the edification of the mountedaid-de-camp. 

"'Where's the officer of the day?' asked the aid, looking suspiciouslyat Tim's shaky knees. 

"'He stands before you, ' replied Tim, steadying himself a little byaffectionately hanging on to the horse's tail. 

"'You sir? you're unfit for duty, and I'll report you, sir, atheadquarters, ' said the aid, who was a West Pointer, you know, stiff asa poker in regimentals. 

"'Sir!--hic, ' replied Tim, with an attempt at offended dignity, theeffect of which was rather spoiled by the accompanying hiccough. 

"'Where's the colonel!' asked the aid. 

"'Drunk, ' says that rascal, Tim, confidentially, with a knowing wink. 

"'Where's the adjutant?'

"'Drunk. '

"'Good God, sir, are you all drunk?'

"''Cept the surgeon--he's got the measles. '

"'Orderly, give this dispatch, to the first sober officer you canfind. '

"'It's no use, captain, ' says Tim, 'the regiment's drunk--'cept me, hic!' and Tim lost his balance, and tumbled over the orderly, for yousee the captain put spurs to his horse rather suddenly, and whisked thefriendly tail out of his hands. 

"So we were all up before the general the next day, but swore ourselvesclear, all except Tim, who had the circumstantial evidence rather toostrong against him. "

"And such are the men in whom the country has placed its trust?"muttered a grey-headed old gentleman, who, while apparently absorbed inhis newspaper, had been listening to the colonel's narrative. 

A young man who had lounged into the room approached the party andcaught the colonel's eye:

"Ah! Searle, how are you? Come up and take a drink. "

A further requisition was made upon the bartender, and the companyindulged anew. Searle, although a little pale and nervous, was all lifeand gaiety. His coming was a fresh brand on the convivial flame, andthe party, too much exhilarated to be content with pushing one vice toexcess, sallied forth in search of whatever other the great city mightafford. They had not to look far. Folly is at no fault in the metropolisfor food of whatever quality to feed upon; and they were soonaccommodated with excitement to their hearts content at a fashionablegambling saloon on Broadway. The colonel played with recklessness anddaring that, if he carries it to the battle-field, will wreathe his browwith laurels; but like many a rash soldier before him, he did not win. On the contrary, his eagles took flight with a rapidity suggestive ofthe old adage that "gold hath wings, " and when, long after midnight, hestood upon the deserted street alone with Philip Searle and hisreflections, he was a sadder and a soberer man. 

"Searle, I'm a ruined man. "

"You'll fight all the better for it, " replied Philip, knocking the ashesfrom his segar. "Come, you'll never mend the matter by taking cold herein the night air; where do you put up? I'll see you home. "

"D--n you, you take it easy, " said the colonel, bitterly. Philip couldafford to take it easy, for he had most of the colonel's money in hispocket. In fact, the unhappy votary of Mars was more thoroughly ruinedthan his companion was aware of, for when fortune was hitting himhardest, he had not hesitated to bring into action a reserve ofgovernment funds which had been intrusted to his charge for specificpurposes. 

"Searle, " said the colonel, after they had walked along silently for afew minutes, "I was telling you this evening about that vacantcaptaincy. "

"Yes, you were telling me I shouldn't have it, " replied Philip, with anaccent of injured friendship. 

"Well, I fancied it out of my power to do anything about it. But"--

"Well, but?"--

"I think I might get it for you, for--for"----

"A consideration?" suggested Philip, interrogatively. 

"Well, to be plain with you, let me have five hundred, and you've wonall of that to-night, and I'll get you the captaincy. "

"We'll talk about it to-morrow morning, " replied Philip. 

And in the morning the bargain was concluded; Philip, with the promisethat all should be satisfactorily arranged, started the same day forWashington, to await the commission so honorably disposed of by thegallant colonel. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

We will let thirty days pass on, and bear the reader South of thePotomac, beyond the Federal lines and within rifle-shot of an advancedpicket of the Confederate army, under General Beauregard. It was adismal night--the 16th of July. The rain fell heavily and the windmoaned and shrieked through the lone forests like unhappy spiritswailing in the darkness. A solitary horseman was cautiously wending hisway through the storm upon the Centreville road and toward theConfederate Hue. He bore a white handkerchief, and from time to time, ashis ear seemed to catch a sound other than the voice of the tempest, hedrew his rein and raised the fluttering symbol at his drawn sword'spoint. Through the dark masses of foliage that skirted the roadside, presently could be seen the fitful glimmer of a watchfire, and thetraveller redoubled his precautions, but yet rode steadily on. 

"Halt!" cried a stern, loud voice from a clump of bushes that lookedblack and threatening in the darkness. The horseman checked his horseand sat immovable in the centre of the road. 

"Who goes there?" followed quick, in the same deep, peremptory tone. 

"An officer of the United States, with a flag of truce, " was answered ina clear, firm voice. 

"Stand where you are. " There was a pause, and presently four dark formsemerged from the roadside, and stood at the horse's head. 

"You've chosen a strange time for your errand, and a dangerous one, "said one of the party, with a mild and gentlemanly accent. 

"Who speaks?"

"The officer in command of this picket. "

"Is not that Beverly Weems?"

"The same. And surely I know that voice. "

"Of course you do, if you know Harold Hare. "

And the stranger, dismounting, stretched out his hand, which was eagerlyand warmly clasped, and followed by a silent and prolonged embrace. 

"How rash you have been, Harold, " said Beverly, at last. "It is a mercythat I was by, else might a bullet have been your welcome. Why did younot wait till morning?"

"Because my mission admits of no delay. It is most opportune that I havemet you. You have spoken to me at times, and Oriana often, of your youngcousin, Miranda. "

"Yes, Harold, what of her?"

"Beverly, she is within a rifle-shot of where we stand, very sick--dyingI believe. "

"Good God, Harold! what strange tale is this?"

"I am in command of an advanced picket, stationed at the old farm-houseyonder. Toward dusk this evening, a carriage drove up, and whenchallenged, a pass was presented, with orders to assist the bearer, Miranda Ayleff, beyond the lines. I remembered the name, and stepping tothe carriage door, beheld two females, one of whom was bending over hercompanion, and holding a vial, a restorative, I suppose, to her lips. 

"'She has fainted, sir, ' said the woman, 'and is very ill. I'm afraidshe won't last till she gets to Richmond. Can't you help her; isn'tthere a surgeon among you at the farm-house there?'

"We had no surgeon, but I had her taken into the house, and made ascomfortable as possible. When she recovered from her swoon, she askedfor you, and repeatedly for Oriana, and would not be comforted until Ipromised her that she should be taken immediately on to Richmond. 'Shecould not die there, among strangers, ' she said; 'she must see onefriend before she died. She must go home at once and be forgiven. ' Andthus she went, half in delirium, until I feared that her life would passaway, from sheer exhaustion. I determined to ride over to your picket atonce, not dreaming, however, that you were in command. At dawn to-morrowwe shall probably be relieved, and it might be beyond my power then tomeet her wishes. "

"I need not say how much I thank you, Harold. But you were ever kind andgenerous. Poor girl! Let us ride over at once, Harold. Who is hercompanion?"

"A woman some years her senior, but yet young, though prematurely faded. I could get little from her. Not even her name. She is gloomy andreserved, even morose at times; but she seems to be kind and attentiveto Miranda. "

Beverly left some hasty instructions with his sergeant, and rode overwith Harold to the farm-house. They found Miranda reclining upon a couchof blankets, over which Harold had spread his military cloak, for thedwelling had been stripped of its furniture, and was, in fact, littlemore than a deserted ruin. The suffering girl was pale and attenuated, and her sunken eyes were wild and bright with the fire of delirium. Yetshe seemed to recognize Beverly, and stretched out her thin arms when heapproached, exclaiming in tremulous accents:

"Take me home, Beverly, oh, take me home!"

Moll was seated by her side, upon a soldier's knapsack; her chin restingupon her hands, and her black eyes fixed sullenly upon the floor. Shewould give but short and evasive answers to Beverly's questions, andstubbornly refused to communicate the particulars of Miranda's history. 

"She broke a blood-vessel a month ago in Boston. But she got better, and was always wanting to go to her friends in Richmond. And so Ibrought her on. And now you must take care of her, for I'm going back tocamp. "

This was about all the information she would give, and the two young menceased to importune her, and directed their attentions to the patient. 

The carriage was prepared and the cushions so arranged, with the help ofblankets, as to form a kind of couch within the vehicle. Upon thisMiranda was tenderly lifted, and when she was told that she should betaken home without delay, and would soon see Oriana, she smiled like apleased child, and ceased complaining. 

Beverly stood beside his horse, with his hand clasped in Harold's. Therain poured down upon them, and the single watchfire, a little apartfrom which the silent sentinel stood leaning on his rifle, threw itsrude glare upon their saddened faces. 

"Good bye, old friend, " said Beverly. "We have met strangely to-night, and sadly. Pray heaven we may not meet more sadly on the battle-field. "

"Tell Oriana, " replied Harold, "that I am with her in my prayers. " Hehad not spoken of her before, although Beverly had mentioned that shewas at the old manor house, and well. "I have not heard from Arthur, " hecontinued, "for I have been much about upon scouting parties since Icame, but I doubt not he is well, and I may find a letter when I returnto camp. Good bye; and may our next meeting see peace upon the land. "

They parted, and the carriage, with Beverly riding at its side, movedslowly into the darkness, and was gone. 

Harold returned into the farm-house, and found Moll seated where he hadleft her, and still gazing fixedly at the floor. He did not disturb her, but paced the floor slowly, lost in his own melancholy thoughts. After asilence of some minutes, the woman spoke, without looking up. 

"Have they gone?"

"Yes. "

"She is dying, ain't she?"

"I fear she is very ill. "

"I tell you, she's dying--and it's better that she is. "

She then relapsed into her former mood, but after a while, as Haroldpaused at the window and looked out, she spoke again. 

"Will it soon be day?"

"Within an hour, I think, " replied Harold. "Do you go back at daylight?"

"Yes. "

"You have no horse?"

"You'll lend me one, won't you? If you don't, I don't care; I can walk. "

"We will do what we can for you. What is your business at the camp?"

"Never mind, " she answered gruffly. And then, after a pause, she asked:

"Is there a man named Searle in your army--Philip Searle?"

"Nay, I know not. There may be. I have never heard the name. Do you seeksuch a person? Is he your friend, or relative?"

"Never mind, " she said again, and then was silent as before. 

With the approach of dawn, the sentry challenged an advancing troop, which proved to be the relief picket guard. Harold saluted the officerin command, and having left orders respectively with theirsubordinates, they entered the farm-house together, and proceeded to theapartment where Moll still remained seated. She did not seem to noticetheir entrance; but when the new-comer's voice, in some casual remark, reached her ear, she rose up suddenly, and walking straight forward towhere the two stood, looking out at the window, she placed her handheavily, and even rudely, upon his shoulder. He turned at the touch, andbeholding her, started back, with not only astonishment, but fear. 

"You needn't look so white, Philip Searle, " she said at last, in a low, hoarse tone. "It's not a ghost you're looking at. But perhaps you'reonly angry that you only half did your business while you were at it. "

"Where did you pick up this woman?" asked Searle of Harold, drawing himaside. 

"She came with an invalid on her way to Richmond, " replied Harold. 

"What invalid?"

He spoke almost in a whisper, but Moll overheard him, and answeredfiercely:

"One that is dying, Philip; and you know well enough who murdered her. 'Twasn't me you struck the hardest blow that night. Do you see thatscar? That's nothing; but you struck her to the heart. "

"What does she mean?" asked Harold, looking sternly into Philip'sdisturbed eye. 

"Heaven knows. She's mad, " he answered. "Did she tell you nothing--noabsurd story?"

"Nothing. She was sullen and uncommunicative, and half the time took nonotice of our questions. "

"No wonder, poor thing!" said Philip. "She's mad. However, I have somelittle power with her, and if you will leave us alone awhile, I willprevail upon her to go quietly back to Washington. "

Harold went up to the woman, who was leaning with folded arms againstthe wall, and spoke kindly to her. 

"Should you want assistance, I will help you. We shall be going in halfan hour. You must be ready to go with us, you know, for you can't stayhere, where there may be fighting presently. "

"Thank you, " she replied. "Don't mind me. I can take care of myself. You can leave us alone together. I'm not afraid of him. "

Harold left the room, and busied himself about the preparations fordeparture. Left alone with the woman he had wronged, Philip for somemoments paced the room nervously and with clouded brow. Finally, hestopped abruptly before Moll, who had been following his motions withher wild, unquiet eyes. 

"Where have you sprung from now, and what do you want?"

"Do you see that scar?" she said again, but more fiercely than before. "While that lasts, there's no love 'twixt you and me, and it'll last metill my death. "

"Then why do you trouble me. If you don't love me, why do you hang aboutme wherever I go? We'll be better friends away from each other thantogether. Why don't you leave me alone?"

"Ha! ha! we must be quits for that, you know, " she answered, ratherwildly, and pointing to her forehead. "Do you think I'm a poor whiningfool like her, to get sick and die when you abuse me? I'll haunt youtill I die, Philip; and after, too, if I can, to punish you for that. "

Philip fancied that he detected the gleam of insanity in her eye, and hewas not wrong, for the terrible blow he had inflicted had injured herbrain; and her mind, weakened by dissipation and the action ofexcitement upon her violent temperament, was tottering upon the verge ofmadness. 

"When I was watching that poor sick girl, " she continued, "I thought Icould have loved her, she was so beautiful and gentle, as she lay there, white and thin, and never speaking a word against you, Philip, butthinking of her friends far away, and asking to be taken home--home, where her mother was sleeping under the sod--home, to be loved andkissed again before she died. And I would have loved her if I hadn'thated you so much that there wasn't room for the love of any livingcreature in my bad heart. I used to sit all night and hear hertalk--talk in her dreams and in her fever--as if there were kind peoplelistening to her, people that were kind to her long ago. And the roomseemed full of angels sometimes, so that I was afraid to move and lookabout; for I could swear I heard the fanning of their wings and therustle of their feet upon the carpet. Sometimes I saw big round tearsupon her wasted cheeks, and I wouldn't brush them away, for they lookedlike jewels that the angels had dropped there. And then I tried to crymyself, but, ha! ha! I had to laugh instead, although my heart wasbursting. I wished I could have cried; I'm sure it would have made myheart so light, and perhaps it would have burst that ring of hot ironthat was pressing so hard around my head. It's there now, sinking andburning right against my temples. But I can't cry, I haven't since I wasa little girl, long ago, long ago; but I think I cried when mother died, long ago, long ago. "

She was speaking in a kind of dreamy murmur, while Philip paced theroom; and finally she sank down upon the floor, and sat there with herhands pressed against her brows, rocking herself to and fro. 

"Moll, " said Philip, stooping over her, and speaking in a gentle tone, "I'm sorry I struck you, indeed I am; but I was drunk, and when you cutme, I didn't know what I was about. Now let's be friends, there's agood girl. You must go back to Washington, you know, and to New York, and stay there till I come back. Won't you, now, Moll?"

"Won't I? No, Philip Searle, I won't. I'll stay by you till you kill me;yes, I will. You want to go after that poor girl and torment her; butshe's dying and soon you won't be able to hurt her any more. "

"Was it she, Moll, was it Miranda that came here with you? Was she goingto Richmond?"

"She was going to heaven, Philip Searle, out of the reach of such as youand me. I'm good enough for you, Philip, bad as I am; and I'm your wife, besides. "

"You told her that?"

"Told her? Ha! ha! Told her? do you think I'm going to make that asecret? No, no. We're a bad couple, sure enough; but I'm not going todeny you, for all that. Look you, young man, " she continued, addressingHarold, who at that moment entered the room, "that is Philip Searle, andPhilip Searle is my husband--my husband, curse his black heart! and ifhe dares deny it, I'll have him in the State prison, for I can do it. "

"She's perfectly insane, " said Philip; but Harold looked thoughtful andperplexed, and scanned his fellow-officer's countenance with a searchingglance. 

"At all events, " he said, "she must not remain here. My good woman, weare ready now, and you must come with us. We have a horse for you, andwill make you comfortable. Are you ready?"

"No, " she replied, sullenly, "I won't go. I'll stay with my husband. "

"Nay, " remonstrated Harold, gently, "you cannot stay here. This is noplace for women. When we arrive at headquarters, you shall tell yourstory to General McDowell, and he will see that you are taken care of, and have justice if you have been wronged. But you must not keep uswaiting. We are soldiers, you know, and must do our duty. "

Still, however, she insisted upon remaining where she was; but when twosoldiers, at a gesture from Harold, approached and took her gently bythe arms, she offered no resistance, and suffered herself to be ledquietly out. Harold coldly saluted Searle, and left him in charge of thepost; while himself and party, accompanied by Moll and the coachman whohad driven them from Washington, were soon briskly marching toward thecamp. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

Toward dusk of the same day, while Philip and his lieutenant were seatedat the rude pine table, conversing after their evening meal, thesergeant of the guard entered with a slip of paper, on which was traceda line in pencil. 

"Is the bearer below?" asked Philip, as he cast his eyes over the paper. 

"Yes, sir. He was challenged a minute ago, and answered with thecountersign and that slip for you, sir. "

"It's all right, sergeant; you may send him up. Mr. Williams, " hecontinued, to his comrade, "will you please to look about a little andsee that all is in order. I will speak a few words with this messenger. "

The lieutenant and sergeant left the room, and presently afterward thereentered, closing the door carefully after him, no less a personage thanSeth Rawbon. 

"You're late, " said Philip, motioning him to a chair. 

"There's an old proverb to answer that, " answered Rawbon, as heleisurely adjusted his lank frame upon the seat. Having establishedhimself to his satisfaction, he continued:

"I had to make a considerable circuit to avoid the returning picket, whomight have bothered me with questions. I'm in good time, though. Ifyou've made up your mind to go, you'll do it as well by night, and safertoo. "

"What have you learned?"

"Enough to make me welcome at headquarters. You were right about thebattle. There'll be tough work soon. They're fixing for a generaladvance. If you expect to do your first fighting under the stars andbars, you must swear by them to-night. "

"Have you been in Washington?"

"Every nook and corner of it. They don't keep their eyes skinned, Ifancy, up there. Your fancy colonels have slippery tongues when thechampagne corks are flying. If they fight as hard as they drink, they'llgive us trouble. Well, what do you calculate to do?" he added, after apause, during which Philip was moody and lost in thought. 

Philip rose from his seat and paced the floor uneasily, while Rawbonfilled a glass from a flask of brandy on the table. It was now quitedark without, and neither of them observed the figure of a womancrouched on the narrow veranda, her chin resting on the sill of the openwindow. At last Philip resumed his seat, and he, too, swallowed a deepdraught from the flask of brandy. 

"Tell me what I can count upon?" he asked. 

"The same grade you have, and in a crack regiment. It's no use askingfor money. They've none to spare for such as you--now don't looksavage--I mean they won't buy men that hain't seen service, and youcan't expect them to. I told you all about that before, and it's timeyou had your mind made up. "

"What proofs of good faith can you give me?"

Rawbon thrust his hand into his bosom and drew out a roll of parchment. 

"This commission, under Gen. Beauregard's hand, to be approved when youreport yourself at headquarters. "

Philip took the document and read it attentively, while Rawbon occupiedhimself with filling his pipe from a leathern pouch. The female figurestepped in at the window, and, gliding noiselessly into the room, seatedherself in a third chair by the table before either of the men becameaware of her presence. They started up with astonishment andconsternation. She did not seem to heed them, but leaning upon thetable, she stretched her hand to the brandy flask and applied it to herlips. 

"Who's this?" demanded Rawbon, with his hand upon the hilt of his largebowie knife. 

"Curse her! my evil genius, " answered Philip, grating his teeth withanger. It was Moll. 

"What's this, Philip!" she said, clutching the parchment which had beendropped upon the table. 

"Leave that, " ejaculated her husband, savagely, and darting to take itfrom her. 

But she eluded his grasp, and ran with the document into a corner of theroom. 

"Ha! ha! ha! I know what it is, " she said, waving it about as aschoolboy sometimes exultingly exhibits a toy that he has mischievouslysnatched from a comrade. 

"It's your death-warrant, Philip Searle, if somebody sees it overyonder. I heard you. I heard you. You're going over to fight for Jeff. Davis. Well, I don't care, but I'll go with you. Don't come near me. Don't hurt me, Philip, or I'll scream to the soldier out there. "

"I won't hurt you, Moll. Be quiet now, there's a good girl. Come hereand take a sup more of brandy. "

"I won't. You want to hurt me. But you can't. I'm a match for you both. Ha! ha! You don't know how nicely I slipped away from the soldiers whenthey, were resting. I went into the thick bushes, right down in thewater, and lay still. I wanted to laugh when I saw them, hunting for me, and I could almost have touched the young officer if I had wished. But Ilay still as a mouse, and they went off and never found me. Ha! ha! ha!"

"Is she drunk or mad?" asked Rawbon. 

"Mad, " answered Philip, "but cunning enough to do mischief, if she has amind to. Moll, dear, come sit down here and be quiet; come, now. "

"Mad? mad?" murmured Moll, catching his word. "No, I'm not mad, " shecontinued wildly, passing her hands over her brows, "but I saw spiritsjust now in the woods, and heard voices, and they've frightened me. Theghost of the girl that died in the hospital was there. You knew littleblue-eyed Lizzie, Philip. She was cursing me when she died and callingfor her mother. But I don't care. The man paid me well for getting her, and 'twasn't my fault if she got sick and died. Poor thing! poor thing!poor little blue-eyed Lizzie! She was innocent enough when she firstcame, but she got to be as bad as any--until she got sick and died. Poorlittle Lizzie!" And thus murmuring incoherently, the unhappy woman satdown upon the floor, and bent her head upon her knees. 

"Clap that into her mouth, " whispered Philip, handing Rawbon hishandkerchief rolled tightly into a ball. "Quietly now, but quick. Lookout now. She's strong as a trooper. "

They approached her without noise, but suddenly, and while Philipgrasped her wrists, Rawbon threw back her head, and forcing the jawsopen by a violent pressure of his knuckles against the joint, thrustthe handkerchief between her teeth and bound it tightly there with twoturns of his sash. The shriek was checked upon her lips and changed intoa painful, gurgling groan. The poor creature, with convulsive efforts, struggled to free her arms from Philip's grasp, but he managed to keephis hold until Rawbon had secured her wrists with the stout cord thatsuspended his canteen. A silk neckerchief was then tightly bound aroundher ankles, and Moll, with heaving breast and glaring eyes, lay, moaningpiteously, but speechless and motionless, upon the floor. 

"We can leave her there, " said Rawbon. "It's not likely any of your menwill come in, until morning at least. Let's be off at once. "

Philip snatched up the parchment where it had fallen, and silentlyfollowed his companion. 

"We are going beyond the line to look about a bit, " he said to thesergeant on duty, as they passed his post. "Keep all still and quiettill we return. "

"Take some of the boys with you, captain, " replied the sergeant. "We'reunpleasant close to those devils, sir. "

"It's all right, sergeant. There's no danger, " And nodding to Seth, thetwo walked leisurely along the road until concealed by the darkness, when they quickened their pace and pushed boldly toward the Confederatelines. 

Half an hour, or less perhaps, after their departure, the sentry, postedat about a hundred yards from the house, observed an unusual lightgleaming from the windows of the old farm-house. He called the attentionof Lieutenant Williams, who was walking by in conversation with thesergeant, to the circumstance. 

"Is not the captain there?" asked the lieutenant. 

"No, sir, " replied the sergeant, "he started off to go beyond the linehalf an hour ago. "

"Alone?"

"No, sir; that chap that came in at dusk was with him. "

"It's strange he should have gone without speaking to me about it. "

"I wanted him to take some of our fellows along, sir, but he didn't careto. By George! that house is afire, sir. Look there. "

While talking, they had been proceeding toward the farm-house, when thelight from the windows brightened suddenly into a broad glare, andcalled forth the sergeant's exclamation. Before they reached thebuilding a jet of flame had leaped from one of the casements, andcontinued to whirl like a flaming ribbon in the air. They quickenedtheir pace to a run, and bursting into the doorway, were driven back bya dense volume of smoke, that rolled in black masses along the corridor. They went in again, and the sergeant pushed open the door of the roomwhere Moll lay bound, but shut it quickly again, as a tongue of flamelashed itself toward him like an angry snake. 

"It's all afire, sir, " he said, coughing and spluttering through thesmoke. "Are there any of the captain's traps inside?"

"Nothing at all, " replied the lieutenant. "Let's go in, however, and seewhat can be done. "

They entered, but were driven back by the baffling smoke and the flamesthat were now licking all over the dry plastering of the room. 

"It's no use, " said the lieutenant, when they had gained their breath inthe open air. "There's no water, except in the brook down yonder, andwhat the men have in their canteens. The house is like tinder. Let itgo, sergeant; it's not worth saving at the risk of singing yourwhiskers. "

The men had now come up, and gathered about the officer to receive hiscommands. 

"Let the old shed go, my lads, " he said. "It's well enough that somerebel should give us a bonfire now and then. Only stand out of theglare, boys, or you may have some of those devils yonder making targetsof you. "

The men fell back into the shadow, and standing in little groups, orseated upon the sward, watched the burning house, well pleased to havesome spectacle to relieve the monotony of the night. And they lookedwith indolent gratification, passing the light jest and the merry word, while the red flames kept up their wild sport, and great masses ofrolling vapor upheaved from the crackling roof, and blackened themidnight sky. None sought to read the mystery of that conflagration. Itwas but an old barn gone to ashes a little before its time. Perhaps somemischievous hand among them had applied the torch for a bit ofdeviltry. Perhaps the flames had caught from Rawbon's pipe, which he hadthrown carelessly among a heap of rubbish when startled by Molly'ssudden apparition. Or yet, perhaps, though Heaven forbid it, for thesake of human nature, the same hand that had struck so nearly fatallyonce, had been tempted to complete the work of death in a more terribleform. 

But within those blistering walls, who can tell what ghastly revels themad flames were having over their bound and solitary victim! Perhaps, asshe lay there with distended jaws, and eyeballs starting from theirsockets, that brain, amid the visions of its madness, became consciousof the first kindling of the subtle element that was so soon to claspher in its terrible embrace. How dreadful, while the long minutesdragged, to watch its stealthy progress, and to feel that one littleeffort of an unbound hand could avert the danger, and yet to lie therehelpless, motionless, without even the power to give utterance to theshriek of terror which strained her throat to suffocation. And then, asthe creeping flame became stronger and brighter, and took long andsilent leaps from one object to another, gliding along the lathed, andpapered wall, rolling and curling along the raftered ceiling, would notthe wretched woman, raving already in delirium, behold the spectres thather madness feared, beckoning to her in the lurid glare, or gliding inand out among the wild fires that whirled in fantastic gambols aroundand overhead! Nearer and nearer yet the rolling flame advances; itcommences to hiss and murmur in its progress; it wreathes itself aboutthe chairs and tables, and laps up the little pool of brandy spilledfrom the forgotten flask; it plays about her feet, and creeps lazilyamid the folds of her gown, yet wet from the brook in which she hadconcealed herself that day; it scorches and shrivels up the flesh uponher limbs, while pendent fiery tongues leap from the burning rafters, and kiss her cheeks and brows where the black veins swell almost tobursting; every muscle and nerve of her frame is strained withconvulsive efforts to escape, but the cords only sink into the bloatingflesh, and she lies there crisping like a log, and as powerless tomove. The dense, black smoke hangs over her like a pall, but prostrateas she is, it cannot sink low enough to suffocate and end her agony. Howthe bared bosom heaves! how the tortured limbs writhe, and theblackening cuticle emits a nauseous steam! The black blood oozing fromher nostrils proclaims how terrible the inward struggle. The whole framebends and shrinks, and warps like a fragment of leather thrown into afurnace--the flame has reached her vitals--at last, by God's mercy, sheis dead. 

CHAPTER XX. 

At dawn of the morning of the 21st of July, an officer in plain undresswas busily writing at a table in a plainly-furnished apartment of afarm-house near Manassas. He was of middle age and medium size, withdark complexion, bold, prominent features, and steady, piercing blackeyes. His manner and the respectful demeanor of several officers inattendance, rather than any insignia of office which he wore, bespokehim of high rank; and the earnest attention which he bestowed upon hislabor, together with the numerous orders, written and verbal, which hedelivered at intervals to members of his staff, denoted that an affairof importance was in hand. Several horses, ready caparisoned, were heldby orderlies at the door-way, and each aid, as he received instructions, mounted and dashed away at a gallop. 

The building was upon a slight elevation of land, and along the plainbeneath could be seen the long rows of tents and the curling smoke ofcamp-fires; while the hum of many voices in the distance, with here andthere a bugle-blast and the spirit-stirring roll of drums, denoted thesite of the Confederate army. The reveille had just sounded, and the dinof active preparation could be heard throughout the camp. Regiments wereforming, and troops of horse were marshalling in squadron, while otherswere galloping here and there; while, through the ringing of sabres andthe strains of marshal music, the low rumbling of the heavy-wheeledartillery was the most ominous sound. 

An orderly entered the apartment where General Beauregard was writing, and spoke with one of the members of the staff in waiting. 

"What is it, colonel?" asked the general, looking up. 

"An officer from the outposts, with two prisoners, general. " And headded something in a lower tone. 

"Very opportune, " said Beauregard. "Let them come in. "

The orderly withdrew and reentered with Captain Weems, followed byPhilip Searle and Rawbon. A glance of recognition passed between thelatter and Beauregard, and Seth, obeying a gesture of the general, advanced and placed a small package on the table. The general opened ithastily and glanced over its contents. 

"As I thought, " he muttered. "You are sure as to the disposition of theadvance?"

"Quite sure of the main features. "

"When did you get in?"

"Only an hour ago. Their vanguard was close behind. Before noon, I thinkthey will be upon you in three columns from the different roads. "

"Very well, you may go now. Come to me in half an hour. I shall havework for you. Who is that with you?"

"Captain Searle. "

"Of whom we spoke?"

"The same. "

The general nodded, and Seth left the apartment. Beauregard for a secondscanned Philip's countenance with a searching glance. 

"Approach, sir, if you please. We have little time for words. Have youinformation to impart?"

"Nothing beyond what I think you know already. You may expect at everymoment to hear the boom of McDowell's guns. "

"On the right?"

"I think the movement will be on your left. Richardson remains on thesouthern road, in reserve. Tyler commands the centre. Carlisle, Bicketand Ayre will give you trouble there with their batteries. Hunter andHeintzelman, with fourteen thousand, will act upon your left. "

"Then we are wrong, Taylor, " said Beauregard, turning to an officer athis side; and rising, the two conversed for a moment in low but earnesttone. 

"It is plausible, " said Beauregard, at length. "Taylor, ride down to Beeand see about it. Captain Searle, you will report yourself to ColonelHampton at once. He will have orders for you. Captain Weems, you willplease see him provided for. Come, gentlemen, to the field!"

The general and his staff were soon mounted and riding rapidly towardthe masses and long lines of troops that were marshalling on the plainbelow. 

Beverly stood at the doorway alone with Philip Searle. He was grave andsad, although the bustle and preparation of an expected battle lent alustre to his eye. To his companion he was stern and distant, and theyboth walked onward for some moments without a word. At a short distancefrom the building, they came upon a black groom holding two saddledhorses. 

"Mount, sir, if you please, " said Beverly, and they rode forward at arapid pace. Philip was somewhat surprised to observe that their courselay away from the camp, and in fact the sounds of military life werelessening as they went on. They passed the brow of the hill anddescended by a bridle-path into a little valley, thick with shrubberyand trees. At the gateway of a pleasant looking cottage Beverly drewrein. 

"I must ask you to enter here, " he said, dismounting. "Within a fewhours we shall both be, probably, in the ranks of battle; but first Ihave a duty to perform. "

They entered the cottage, within which all was hushed and still; thesounds of an active household were not heard. They ascended the littlestair, and Beverly pushed gently open the door of an apartment andmotioned to Philip to enter. He paused at first, for as he stood on thethreshold a low sob reached his ear. 

"Pass in, " said Beverly, in a grave, stern tone. "I have promised that Iwould bring you, else, be assured, I would not linger in your presence. "

They entered. It was a small, pleasant room, and through the latticeinterwoven with woodbine the rising sun looked in like a friendlyvisitor. Upon a bed was stretched the form of a young girl, sleeping ordead, it would be hard to tell, the features were so placid andbeautiful in repose. One ray of sunlight fell among the tangles of hergolden hair, and glowed like a halo above the marble-white brow. Thelong dark lashes rested upon her cheek with a delicate contrast likethat of the velvety moss when it peeps from the new-fallen snow. Herhands were folded upon her bosom above the white coverlet; they claspeda lily, that seemed as if sculptured upon a churchyard stone, so whitewas the flower, so white the bosom that it pressed. One step nearerrevealed that she was dead; earthly sleep was never so calm andbeautiful. By the bedside Oriana Weems was seated, weeping silently. She arose when her brother entered, and went to him, putting her handsabout his neck. Beverly tenderly circled his arm about her waist, andthey stood together at the bedside, gazing on all that death had leftupon earth of their young cousin, Miranda. 

"She died this morning very soon after you left, " said Oriana, "withoutpain and I think without sorrow, for she wore that same sweet smile thatyou see now frozen upon her lips. Oh, Beverly, I am sorry you brought_him_ here!" she added, in a lower tone, glancing with a shudder atPhilip Searle, who stood looking with a frown out at the lattice, andstopping the sunbeam from coming into the room. "It seems, " shecontinued, "as if his presence brought a curse that would drag upon theangels' wings that are bearing her to heaven. Though, thank God, she isbeyond his power to harm her now!" and she knelt beside the pillow andpressed her lips upon the cold, white brow. 

"She wished to see him, Oriana, before she died, " said Beverly, "and Ipromised to bring him; and yet I am glad she passed away before hiscoming, for I am sure he could bring no peace with him for the dying, and his presence now is but an insult to the dead. "

When he had spoken, there was silence for a while, which was broken bythe sudden boom of a distant cannon. They all started at the sound, forit awakened them from mournful memories, to yet perhaps more solemnthoughts of what was to come before that bright sun should rise upon themorrow. Beverly turned slowly to where Philip stood, and pointed sternlyat the death-bed. 

"You have seen enough, if you have dared to look at all, " he said. "Ihave not the power, nor the will, to punish. A soldier's death to-day iswhat you can best pray for, that you may not live to think of thishereafter. She sent for you to forgive you, but died and you areunforgiven. Bad as you are, I pity you that you must go to battlehaunted by the remembrance of this murder that you have done. "

Philip half turned with an angry curl upon his lip, as if prepared forsome harsh answer; but he saw the white thin face and folded hands, andleft the room without a word. 

"Farewell! dear sister, " said Beverly, clasping the weeping girl in hisarms. "I have already overstaid the hour, and must spur hard to be at mypost in time. God bless you! it may be I shall never see you again; ifso, I leave you to God and my country. But I trust all will be well. "

"Oh, Beverly! come back to me, my brother; I am alone in the worldwithout you. I would not have you swerve from your duty, although deathcame with it; but yet, remember that I am alone without you, and be notrash or reckless. I will watch and pray for you beside this death-bed, Beverly, while you are fighting, and may God be with you. "

Beverly summoned an old negress to the room, and consigned his sister toher care. Descending the stairs rapidly, he leaped upon his horse, andwaving his hand to Philip, who was already mounted, they plunged alongthe valley, and ascending the crest of the hill, beheld, while theystill spurred on, the vast army in motion before them, while far off inthe vanward, from time to time, the dull, heavy booming of artillerytold that the work was already begun. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

On the evening of the 20th July, Hunter's division, to which Harold Harewas attached, was bivouacked on the old Braddock Road, about a mile anda half southeast of Centreville. It was midnight. There was a strangeand solemn hush throughout the camp, broken only by the hail of thesentinel and the occasional trampling of horses hoofs, as someaid-de-camp galloped hastily along the line. Some of the troops weresleeping, dreaming, perhaps, of home, and far away, for the time, fromthe thought of the morrow's danger. But most were keeping vigil throughthe long hours of darkness, communing with themselves or talking in lowmurmurs with some comrade; for each soldier knew that the battle-hourwas at hand. Harold was stretched upon his cloak, striving in vain towin the boon of an hour's sleep, for he was weary with the toil of thepreceding day; but he could not shut out from his brain the whirl ofexcitement and suspense which that night kept so many tired fellowswakeful when they most needed rest. It was useless to court slumber, onthe eve, perhaps, of his eternal sleep; he arose and walked about intothe night. 

Standing beside the dying embers of a watchfire, wrapped in his blanket, and gazing thoughtfully into the little drowsy flames that yet curledabout the blackened fagots, was a tall and manly form, which Haroldrecognized as that of his companion in arms, a young lieutenant of hiscompany. He approached, and placed his hand upon his fellow-soldier'sarm. 

"What book of fate are you reading in the ashes, Harry?" he asked, in apleasant tone, anxious to dispel some portion of his own and hiscomrade's moodiness. 

The soldier turned to him and smiled, but sorrowfully and with effort. 

"My own destiny, perhaps, " he answered. "Those ashes were glowing oncewith light and warmth, and before the dawn they will be cold, as you orI may be to-morrow, Harold. "

"I thought you were too old a soldier to nurse such fancies upon theeve of battle. I must confess that I, who am a novice in this work, amas restless and nervous as a woman; but you have been seasoned by aMexican campaign, and I came to you expressly to be laughed intofortitude again. "

"You must go on till you meet one more lighthearted than myself, "answered the other, with a sigh. "Ah! Harold, I have none of the oldelasticity about me to-night. I would I were back under my father'sroof, never to hear the roll of the battle-drum again. This is a cruelwar, Harold. "

"A just one. "

"Yes, but cruel. Have you any that you love over yonder, Harold? Anythat are dear to you, and that you must strike at on the morrow?"

"Yes, Harry, that is it. It is, as you say, a cruel war. "

"I have a brother there, " continued his companion; and he looked sadlyinto the gloom, as if he yearned through the darkness and distance tocatch a glimpse of the well-known form. "A brother that, when I last sawhim, was a little rosy-cheeked boy, and used to ride upon my knee. Heis scarce more than a boy now, and yet he will shoulder his musketto-morrow, and stand in the ranks perhaps to be cut down by the handthat has caressed him. He was our mother's darling, and it is a mercythat she is not living to see us armed against each other. "

"It is a painful thought, " said Harold, "and one that you should dismissfrom contemplation. The chances are thousands to one that you will nevermeet in battle. "

"I trust the first bullet that will be fired may reach my heart, ratherthan that we should. But who can tell? I have a strange, gloomy feelingupon me; I would say a presentiment, if I were superstitious. "

"It is a natural feeling upon the eve of battle. Think no more of it. Look how prettily the moon is creeping from under the edge of yondercloud. We shall have a bright day for the fight, I think. "

"Yes, that's a comfort. One fights all the better in the warm sunlight, as if to show the bright heavens what bloodthirsty devils we can be uponoccasion. Hark!"

It was the roll of the drum, startling the stillness of the night; andpresently, the brief, stern orders of the sergeants could be heardcalling the men into the ranks. There is a strange mingled feeling ofawe and excitement in this marshalling of men at night for a dangerousexpedition. The orders are given instinctively in a more subdued andsterner tone, as if in unison with the solemnity of the hour. The trampof marching feet strikes with a more distinct and hollow sound upon theear. The dark masses seem to move more compactly, as if each soldierdrew nearer to his comrade for companionship. The very horses, althoughalert and eager, seem to forego their prancing, and move with sobertread. And when the word "forward!" rings along the dark column, and thelong and silent ranks bend and move on as with an electric impulse, there is a thrill in every vein, and each heart contracts for aninstant, as if the black portals of a terrible destiny were open in thevan. 

A half hour of silent hurry and activity passed away, and at last thewhole army was in motion. It was now three o'clock; the moon shone downupon the serried ranks, gleaming from bayonet and cannon, andstretching long black shadows athwart the road. From time to time alongthe column could be heard the ringing voice of some commander, as hegalloped to the van, cheering his men with some well-timed allusion, ordispelling the surrounding gloom with a cheerful promise of victory. Where the wood road branched from the Warrentown turnpike, Gen. McDowell, standing in his open carriage, looked down upon the passingcolumns, and raised his hat, when the excited soldiers cheered as theyhurried on. Here Hunter's column turned to the right, while the mainbody moved straight on to the centre. Then all became more silent thanbefore, and the light jest passing from comrade to comrade was lessfrequent, for each one felt that every step onward brought him nearer tothe foe. 

The eastern sky soon paled into a greyish light, and ruddy streakspushed out from the horizon. The air breathed fresher and purer than inthe darkness, and the bright sun, with an advance guard of thin, rosyclouds, shot upward from the horizon in a blaze of splendor. It was theSabbath morn. 

The boom of a heavy gun is heard from the centre. Carlisle has openedthe ball. The day's work is begun. Another! The echoes spring from thehillsides all around, like a thousand angry tongues that threaten death. But on the right, no trace of an enemy is to be seen. Burnside's brigadewas in the van; they reached the ford at Sudley's Springs; a momentaryconfusion ensues as the column prepares to cross. Soon the men arepushing boldly through the shallow stream, but the temptation is toogreat for their parched throats; they stoop to drink and to fill theircanteens from the cool wave. But as they look up they see a cloud ofdust rolling up from the plain beyond, and their thirst has passedaway--they know that the foe is there. 

An aid comes spurring down the bank, waving his hand and splashing intothe stream. 

"Forward, men! forward!"

Hunter gallops to meet him, with his staff clattering at his horse'sheels. 

"Break the heads of regiments from the column and push on--push on!"

The field officers dash along the ranks, and the men spring to theirwork, as the word of command is echoed from mouth to mouth. 

Crossing the stream, their course extended for a mile through a thickwood, but soon they came to the open country, with undulating fields, rolling toward a little valley through which a brooklet ran. And beyondthat stream, among the trees and foliage which line its bank and extendin wooded patches southward, the left wing of the enemy are in battleorder. 

From a clump of bushes directly in front, came a puff of white smokewreathed with flame; the whir of the hollow ball is heard, and itploughs the moist ground a few rods from our advance. 

Scarcely had the dull report reverberated, when, in quick succession, adozen jets of fire gleamed out, and the shells came plunging into theranks. Burnside's brigade was in advance and unsupported, but under theiron hail the line was formed, and the cry "Forward!" was answered witha cheer. A long grey line spread out upon the hillside, forming rapidlyfrom the outskirts of the little wood. It was the Southern infantry, and soon along their line a deadly fire of musketry was opened. 

Meanwhile the heavy firing from the left and further on, announced thatthe centre and extreme left were engaged. A detachment of regulars wassent to Burnside's relief, and held the enemy in check till a portion ofPorter's and Heintzelman's division came up and pressed them back fromtheir position. 

The battle was fiercely raging in the centre, where the 69th had led thevan and were charging the murderous batteries with the bayonet. We mustleave their deeds to be traced by the historic pen, and confine ournarrative to the scene in which Harold bore a part. The nearest battery, supported by Carolinians, had been silenced. The Mississippians hadwavered before successive charges, and an Alabama regiment, after fourtimes hurling back the serried ranks that dashed against them, hadfallen back, outflanked and terribly cut up. On the left was afarm-house, situated on an elevated ridge a little back from the road. Within, while the fiercest battle raged, was its solitary inmate, anaged and bed-ridden lady, whose paralyzed and helpless form wasstretched upon the bed where for fourscore years she had slept the calmsleep of a Christian. She had sent her attendants from the dwelling toseek a place of safety, but would not herself consent to be removed, forshe heard the whisper of the angel of death, and chose to meet, himthere in the house of her childhood. For the possession of the hill onwhich the building stood, the opposing hosts were hotly struggling. Thefury of the battle seemed to concentre there, and through the time-wornwalls the shot was plunging, splintering the planks and beams, andshivering the stone foundation. Sherman's battery came thundering up thehill upon its last desperate advance. Just as the foaming horses werewheeled upon its summit, the van of Hampton's legion sprang up theopposite side, and the crack of a hundred rifles simultaneously sounded. Down fell the cannoneers beside their guns before those deadly missiles, and the plunging horses were slaughtered in the traces, or, wounded tothe death, lashed out their iron hoofs among the maimed and writhingsoldiers and into the heaps of dead. The battery was captured, but heldonly fop an instant, when two companies of Rhode Islanders, led on byHarold Hare, charged madly up the hill. 

"Save the guns, boys!" he cried, as the gallant fellows bent their headslow, and sprang up the ascent right in the face of the blazing rifles. 

"Fire low! stand firm! drive them back once again, my brave Virginians!"shouted a young Southern officer, springing to the foremost rank. 

The mutual fire was delivered almost at the rifles' muzzles, and thelong sword-bayonets clashed together. Without yielding ground, for a fewterrible seconds they thrust and parried with the clanging steel, whileon either side the dead were stiffening beneath their feet, and thewounded, with shrieks of agony, were clutching at their limbs. Haroldand the young Southron met; their swords clashed together once in thesmoke and dust, and but once, when each drew back and lowered hisweapon, while all around were striking. Then, amid that terriblediscord, their two left hands were pressed together for an instant, anda low "God bless you!" came from the lips of both. 

"To the right, Beverly, keep you to the right!" said Harold, and hehimself, straight through the hostile ranks, sprang in an oppositedirection. 

When Harold's party had first charged up the hill, the young lieutenantwith whom he had conversed beside the watch-fire on the previousevening, was at the head of his platoon, and as the two bodies met, hesent the last shot from his revolver full in the faces of the foremostrank. So close were they, that the victim of that shot, struck in thecentre of the forehead, tottered forward, and fell into his arms. Therewas a cry of horror that pierced even above the shrieks of the woundedand the yells of the fierce combatants. One glance at that fair, youthful face sufficed;--it was his brother--dead in his arms, dead by abrother's hand. The yellow hair yet curled above the temples, but therosy bloom upon the cheek was gone; already the ashen hue of death wasthere. There was a small round hole just where the golden locks wavedfrom the edge of the brow, and from it there slowly welled a singleglobule of black gore. It left the face undisfigured--pale, but tranquiland undistorted as a sleeping child's--not even a clot of blood wasthere to mar its beauty. The strong and manly soldier knelt upon thedust, and holding the dead boy with both arms clasped about his waist, bent his head low down upon the lifeless bosom, and gasped with an agonymore terrible than that which the death-wound gives. 

"Charley! Oh God! Charley! Charley!" was all that came from his whitelips, and he sat there like stone, with the corpse in his arms, stillmurmuring "Charley!" unconscious that blades were flashing and bulletswhistling around him. The blood streamed from his wounds, the bayonetswere gleaming round, and once a random shot ploughed into his thigh andshivered the bone. He only bent a little lower and his voice wasfainter; but still he murmured "Charley! Oh God! Charley, " and neverunfolded his arms from its embrace. And there, when the battle was over, the Southrons found him, dead--with his dead brother in his arms. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

At the door-way of the building on the hill, where the aged invalid wasyielding her last breath amid the roar of battle, a wounded officer satamong the dying and the dead, while the conflict swept a little awayfrom that quarter of the field. The blood was streaming from theshattered bosom, and feebly he strove to staunch it with his silkenscarf. He had dragged himself through gore and dust until he reachedthat spot, and now, rising again with a convulsive effort, he leaned hisred hands against the wall, and entered over the fragments of the door, which had been shivered by a shell. With tottering steps he passed alongthe hall and up the little stairway, as one who had been familiar withthe place. Before the door of the aged lady's chamber he paused a momentand listened; all was still there, although the terrible tumult of thebattle was sounding all around. He entered; he advanced to thebed-side; the dying woman was murmuring a prayer. A random shot had tornthe shrivelled flesh upon her bosom and the white counterpane wasstained with blood. She did not see him--her thoughts were away fromearth, she was already seeking communion with the spirits of the blest. The soldier knelt by that strange death-bed and leaned his pale browupon the pillow. 

"Mother!"

How strangely the word sounded amid the shouts of combatants and the dinof war. It was like a good angel's voice drowning the discords of hell. 

"Mother!"

She heard not the cannon's roar, but that one word, scarce louder thanthe murmur of a dreaming infant, reached her ear. The palsied head wasturned upon the pillow and the light of life returned to her glazingeyes. 

"Who speaks?" she gasped, while her thin hands were tremulously claspedtogether with emotion. 

"'Tis I, mother. Philip, your son. "

"Philip, my son!" and the nerveless form, that had scarce moved foryears, was raised upon the bed by the last yearning effort of a mother'slove. 

"Is it you, Philip, is it you, indeed? I can scarce see your form, butsurely I have heard the voice of my boy;--my long absent boy. Oh!Philip! why have I not heard it oftener to comfort my old age?"

"I am dying, mother. I have been a bad son and a guilty man. But I amdying, mother. Oh! I am punished for my sin! The avenging bullet struckme down at the gate of the home I had deserted--the home I have madedesolate to you. Mother, I have crawled here to die. "

"To die! O God! your hand is cold--or is it but the chill of death uponmy own? Oh! I had thought to have said farewell to earth forever, butyet let me linger but a little while, O Lord! if but to bless my son. "She sank exhausted upon the pillow, but yet clasped the gory fingers ofthe dying man. 

"Philip, are you there? Let me hear your voice. I hear strange murmursafar off; but not the voice of my son. Are you there, Philip, are youthere?"

Philip Searle was crouching lower and lower by the bed-side, and hisforehead, upon which the dews of death were starting, lay languidlybeside the thin, white locks that rested on the pillow. 

"Look, mother!" he said, raising his head and glaring into the corner ofthe room. "Do you see that form in white?--there--she with the palecheeks and golden hair! I saw her once before to-day, when she laystretched upon the bed, with a lily in her white fingers. And once againI saw her in that last desperate charge, when the bullet struck my side. And now she is there again, pale, motionless, but smiling. Does shesmile in mockery or forgiveness? I could rather bear a frown than thatterrible--that frozen smile. O God! she is coming to me, mother, she iscoming to me--she will lay her cold hand upon me. No--it is not she! itis Moll--look, mother, it is Moll, all blackened with smoke and searedwith living fire. O God! how terrible! But, mother, I did not do that. When I saw the flames afar off, I shuddered, for I knew how it must be. But I did not do it, Moll, by my lost soul, I did not!" He started tohis feet with a convulsive effort. The hot blood spurted from his woundwith the exertion and spattered upon the face and breast of hismother--but she felt it not, for she was dead. The last glimmering rayof reason seemed to drive away the phantoms. He turned toward thosesharp and withered features, he saw the fallen jaw and lustreless glazedeye. A shudder shook his frame at every point, and with a groan of painand terror, he fell forward upon the corpse--a corpse himself. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

The Federal troops, with successive charges, had now pushed the enemyfrom their first position, and the torn battalions were still beinghurled against the batteries that swept their ranks. The excellentgeneralship of the Confederate leaders availed itself of the valor andimpetuosity of their assailants to lure them, by consecutive advance andbackward movement, into the deadly range of their well planted guns. Itwas then that, far to the right, a heavy column could be seen movingrapidly in the rear of the contending hosts. Was it a part of Hunter'sdivision that had turned the enemy's rear? Such was the thought atfirst, and with the delusion triumphant cheers rang from the parchedthroats of the weary Federals. They were soon to be undeceived. Thestars and bars flaunted amid those advancing ranks, and the constantyells of the Confederates proclaimed the truth. Johnston was pouring hisfresh troops upon the battle-field. The field was lost, but still wasstruggled for in the face of hope. It was now late in the afternoon, andthe soldiers, exhausted with their desperate exertions, fought on, doggedly, but without that fiery spirit which earlier in the day hadurged them to the cannon's mouth. There was a lull in the storm ofcarnage, the brief pause that precedes the last terrific fury of thetempest. The Confederates were concentrating their energies for adecisive effort. It came. From the woods that skirted the left centre oftheir position, a squadron of horsemen came thundering down upon ourcolumns. Right down upon Carlisle's battery they rode, slashing thecannoneers and capturing the guns. Then followed their rushing ranks ofinfantry, and full upon our flank swooped down another troop of cavalry, dashing into the road where the baggage-train had been incautiouslyadvanced. Our tired and broken regiments were scattered to the right andleft. In vain a few devoted officers spurred among them, and called onthem to rally; they broke from the ranks in every quarter of the field, and rushed madly up the hillsides and into the shelter of the trees. The magnificent army that had hailed the rising sun with hopes ofvictory was soon pouring along the road in inextricable confusion anddisorderly retreat. Foot soldier and horseman, field-piece and wagon, caisson and ambulance, teamster and cannoneer, all were mingled togetherand rushing backward from the field they had half won, with their backsto the pursuing foe. That rout has been traced, to our shame, inhistory; the pen of the novelist shuns the disgraceful theme. 

Harold, although faint with loss of blood, which oozed from aflesh-wound in his shoulder, was among the gallant few who strove tostem the ebbing current; struck at last by a spent ball in the temple, he fell senseless to the ground. He would have been trampled upon andcrushed by the retreating column, had not a friendly hand dragged himfrom the road to a little mound over which spread the branches of anoak. Here he was found an hour afterward by a body of Confederate troopsand lifted into an ambulance with others wounded and bleeding likehimself. 

While the vehicle, with its melancholy freight, was being slowlytrailed over the scene of the late battle, Harold partially recoveredhis benumbed senses. He lay there as in a dream, striving to recallhimself to consciousness of his position. He felt the dull throbbingpain upon his brow and the stinging sensation in his shoulder, and knewthat he was wounded, but whether dangerously or not he could not judge. He could feel the trickling of blood from the bosom of a wounded comradeat his side, and could hear the groans of another whose thigh wasshattered by the fragment of a shell; but the situation brought nofeeling of repugnance, for he was yet half stunned and lay as in alethargy, wishing only to drain one draught of water and then to sleep. The monotonous rumbling of the ambulance wheels sounded distinctly uponhis ear, and he could listen, with a kind of objectless curiosity, tothe casual conversation of the driver, as he exchanged words here andthere with others, who were returning upon the same dismal errand fromthe scene of carnage. The shadows of night spread around him, coveringthe field of battle like a pall flung in charity by nature over thecorpses of the slain. Then his bewildered fancies darkened with thesurrounding gloom, and he thought that he was coffined and in a hearse, being dragged to the graveyard to be buried. He put forth his hand topush the coffin lid, but it fell again with weakness, and when hisfingers came in contact with the splintered bone that protruded from hisneighbor's thigh, and he felt the warm gushing of the blood that welledwith each throb of the hastily bound artery, he puzzled his dreamythoughts to know what it might mean. At last all became a blank upon hisbrain, and he relapsed once more into unconsciousness. 

And so, from dreamy wakefulness to total oblivion he passed to and fro, without an interval to part the real from the unreal. He was consciousof being lifted into the arms of men, and being borne along carefully bystrong arms. Whither? It seemed to his dull senses that they werebearing him into a sepulchre, but he was not terrified, but careless andresigned; or if he thought of it at all, it was to rejoice that whenlaid there, he should be undisturbed. Presently a vague fancy passedathwart his mind, that perhaps the crawling worms would annoy him, andhe felt uneasy, but yet not afraid. Afterward, there was a sensation ofquiet and relief, and his brain, for a space, was in repose. Then abright form bent over him, and he thought it was an angel. He could feela soft hand brushing the dampness from his brow, and fingers, whoselight touch soothed him, parting his clotted hair. The features grewmore distinct, and it pleased him to look upon them, although he strovein vain to fix them in his memory, until a tear-drop fell upon hischeek, and recalled his wandering senses; then he knew that Oriana wasbending over him and weeping. 

He was in the cottage where Beverly had last parted from his sister; notin the same room, for they feared to place him there, where Miranda waslying in a shroud, with a coffin by her bed-side, lest the sad spectacleshould disturb him when he woke. But he lay upon a comfortable bed inanother room, and Beverly and Oriana stood beside, while the surgeondressed his wounds. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

No need to say that Harold was well cared for by his two friendly foes. Beverly had given his personal parole for his safe keeping, and he wastherefore free from all surveillance or annoyance on that score. Hiswounds were not serious, although the contusion on the temple, which, however, had left the skull uninjured, occasioned some uneasiness atfirst. But the third day he was able to leave his bed, and with his armin a sling, sat comfortably in an easy-chair, and conversed freely withhis two excellent nurses. 

"Did Beverly tell you of Arthur's imprisonment?" he asked of Oriana, breaking a pause in the general conversation. 

"Yes, " she answered, looking down, with a scarcely perceptible blushupon her cheek. "Poor Arthur! Yours is a cruel government, Harold, thatwould make traitors of such men. His noble heart would not harbor adangerous thought, much less a traitorous design. "

"I think with you, " said Harold. "There is some strange mistake, whichwe must fathom. I received his letter only the day preceding the battle. Had there been no immediate prospect of an engagement, I would haveasked a furlough, and have answered it in person. I have small reason toregret my own imprisonment, " he added, "my jailers are so kind; yet I doregret it for his sake. "

"You know that we are powerless to help him, " said Beverly, "or even toshorten your captivity, since your government will not exchange with us. However, you must write, both to Arthur and to Mr. Lincoln, and I willuse my best interest with the general to have your letters sent on witha flag. "

"I know that you will do all in your power, and I trust that myrepresentations may avail with the government, for I judge from Arthur'sletter that he is not well, although he makes no complaint. He is butdelicate at the best, and what with the effects of his late injuries, Ifear that the restraint of a prison may go ill with him. "

"How unnatural is this strife that makes us sorrow for our foes no lessthan for our friends?" said Oriana. "I seem to be living in a strangeclime, and in an age that has passed away. And how long can friendshipendure this fiery ordeal? How many scenes of carnage like this lastterrible one can afflict the land, without wiping away all trace ofbrotherhood, and leaving in the void the seed of deadly hate?"

"If this repulse, " said Beverly, "which your arms have suffered so earlyin the contest, will awaken the North to a sense of the utter futilityof their design of subjugation, the blood that flowed at Manassas willnot have been shed in vain. "

"No, not in vain, " replied Harold, "but its fruits will be other thanyou anticipate. The North will be awakened, but only to gird up itsloins and put forth its giant strength. The shame of that one defeatwill be worth to us hereafter a hundred victories. The North hasbeen smitten in its sleep; it will arouse from its lethargy like a lionawakening under the smart of the hunter's spear. Beverly, base no vainhopes upon the triumph of the hour; it seals your doom, for it servesbut to throw into the scale against you the aroused energies that tillnow have been withheld. "

"You count upon your resources, Harold, like a purse-proud millionaire, who boasts his bursting coffers. We depend rather upon our determinedhearts and resolute right hands. Upon our power to endure, greater thanyours to inflict, reverse. Upon our united people, and the spirit thatanimates them, which can never be subdued. The naked Britons coulddefend their native soil against Caesar's legions, the veterans of ahundred fights. Shall we do less, who have already tasted the fruits ofliberty so dearly earned? Harold, your people have assumed an impossibletask, and you may as well go cast your treasures into the sea assquander them in arms to smite your kith and kin. We are Americans, likeyourselves; and when you confess that _you_ can be conquered by invadingarmies, then dream of conquering us. "

"And we will startle you from your dream with the crack of our Southernrifles, " added Oriana, somewhat maliciously, while Harold smiled at herenthusiasm. 

"There is a great deal of romance in both your natures, " he replied. "But it is not so good as powder for a fighting medium. The spirit youboast of will not support you long without the aid of good rounddollars. "

"Thank heaven we have less faith in their efficacy than you Northerngold-worshippers, " observed Oriana, with playful sarcasm. "While oursoldiers have good round corn-cakes, they will ask for no richer metalsthan lead and steel. Have you never heard of the regiment ofMississippians, who, having received their pay in governmentcertificates, to a man tore up the documents as they took up the line ofmarch, saying 'we do not fight for money?'"

Harold smiled, thinking perhaps that nothing better could have been donewith the currency in question. 

"I think, " said Beverly, "you are far out of the way in your estimate ofour resources. The South is strictly an agricultural country, and assuch, best able to support itself under the exhaustion consequent upon alengthened warfare, especially as it will remain in the attitude ofresistance to invasion. From the bosom of its prolific soil it can drawits natural nourishment and retain its vigor throughout any period ofisolation, while you are draining your resources for the means ofproviding an active aggressive warfare. The rallying of our whitepopulation to the battle field will not interrupt the course ofagricultural pursuit, while every enlistment in the North will take oneman away from the tillage of the land or from some industrialavocation. "

"Not so, " replied Harold. "Our armies for the most part will berecruited from the surplus population, and abundant hands will remainbehind for the purposes of industry. "

"At first, perhaps. But not after a few more such fields as were foughton Sunday last. To carry out even a show of your project of subjugation, you must keep a million of men in the field from year to year. Yourmanufacturing interests will be paralyzed, your best customers shut out. You will be spending enormously and producing little beyond thenecessities of consumption. We, on the contrary, will be producing asusual, and spending little more than before. "

"Can your armies be fed, clothed, and equipped without expense?"

"No. But all our means will be applied to military uses, and ouroperations will be necessarily much less expensive than yours. In othermatters, we will forget our habits of extravagance. We will become, bythe law of necessity, economists in place of spendthrifts. We willgather in rich harvests, but will stint ourselves to the barenecessities of life, that our troops may be fed and clothed. The moneythat our wealthy planters have been in the habit of spending yearly inNorthern cities and watering places, will be circulated at home. Somefifty millions of Southern dollars, heretofore annually wasted infashionable dissipation, will thus be kept in our own pockets and out ofyours. The spendthrift sons of our planters, and their yet moreextravagant daughters, will be found studying economy in the rude schoolof the soldier, and plying the needle to supply the soldiers' wants, inplace of drawing upon the paternal estates for frivolous enjoyments. Ourspending population will be on the battle-field, and the laborer willremain in the cotton and corn-field. There will be suffering andprivation, it is true, but rest assured, Harold, we will bear it allwithout a murmur, as our fathers did in the days of '76. And we willtrust to the good old soil we are defending to give us our daily bread. "

"Or if it should not, " said Oriana, "we can at least claim from it, eachone, a grave, over which the foot of the invader may trample, but notover our living bodies. "

"I have no power to convince you of your error, " answered Harold. "Letus speak of it no more, since it is destined that the sword must decidebetween us. Beverly, you promised that I should go visit my woundedcomrades, who have not yet been removed. Shall we go now? I think itwould do me good to breathe the air. "

They prepared for the charitable errand, and Oriana went with them, witha little basket of delicacies for the suffering prisoners. 

CHAPTER XXV. 

It was a fair morning in August, the twentieth day after the eventful21st of July. Beverly was busy with his military duties, and Harold, whohad already fully recovered from his wounds, was enjoying, in companywith Oriana, a pleasant canter over the neighboring country. They cameto where the rolling meadow subsided into a level plain of considerableextent on either side of the road. At its verge a thick forest formed adark background, beyond which the peering summits of green hills showedthat the landscape was rugged and uneven. Oriana slackened her pace, andpointed out over the broad expanse of level country. 

"You see this plain that stretches to our right and left?"

"Of course I do, " replied Harold. 

"Yes; but I want you to mark it well, " she continued, with a significantglance; "and also that stretch of woodland yonder, beyond which, yousee, the country rises again. "

"Yes, a wild country, I should judge, like that to the left, where wefought your batteries a month ago. "

"It is, indeed, a wild country as you say. There are ravines there, anddeep glens, fringed with almost impenetrable shrubbery, and deep down inthese recesses flows many a winding water-course, lined and overarchedwith twisted foliage. Are you skillful at threading a woodlandlabyrinth?"

"Yes; my surveying expeditions have schooled me pretty well. Why do youask? Do you want me to guide you through the wilderness, in search of ahermit's cave. "

"Perhaps; women have all manner of caprices, you know. But I want you topay attention to those landmarks. Over yonder, there are some nooks thatwould do well to hide a runaway. I have explored some of them myself, for I passed some months here formerly, before the war. Poor Miranda'sfamily resided once in the little cottage where we are stopping now. That is why I came from Richmond to spend a few days and be withBeverly. I little thought that my coming would bring me to Miranda'sdeath-bed. Look there, now: you have a better view of where the forestascends into the hilly ground. "

"Why are you so topographical to-day? One would think you were temptingme to run away, " said Harold, smiling, as he followed her pointingfinger with his eyes. 

"No; I know you would not do that, because Beverly, you know, haspledged himself for your safe-keeping. "

"Very true; and I am therefore a closer prisoner than if I were loadeddown with chains. When do you return to Richmond?"

"I shall return on the day after to-morrow. Beverly has been chargedwith an important service, and will be absent for several weeks. But hecan procure your parole, if you wish, and you can come to the oldmanor-house again. "

"I think I shall not accept parole, " replied Harold, thoughtfully. "Imust escape, if possible, for Arthur's sake. Beverly, of course, willrelease himself from all obligations about me, before he goes?"

"Yes, to-morrow; but you will be strictly guarded, unless you giveparole. See here, I have a little present for you; it is not verypretty, but it is useful. "

She handed him a small pocket-compass, set in a brass case. 

"You can have this too, " she added, drawing a small but strong and sharppoignard from her bosom. "But you must promise me never to use it exceptto save your life?"

"I will promise that cheerfully, " said Harold, as he received theprecious gifts. 

"To-morrow we will ride out again. We will have the same horses thatbear us so bravely now. Do you note how strong and well-bred is thenoble animal you ride?"

"Yes, " said Harold, patting the glorious arch of his steed's neck. "He'sa fine fellow, and fleet, I warrant. "

"Fleet as the winds. There are few in this neighborhood that can matchhim. Let us go home now. You need not tell Beverly that I have given youpresents. And be ready to ride to-morrow at four o'clock precisely. "

He understood her thoroughly, and they cantered homeward, conversingupon indifferent subjects and reverting no further to their previoussomewhat enigmatical theme. 

On the following afternoon, at four o'clock precisely, the horses wereat the door, and five minutes afterward a mounted officer, followed bytwo troopers, galloped up the lane and drew rein at the gateway. 

Harold was arranging the girths of Oriana's saddle, and she herself wasstanding in her riding-habit beside the porch. The officer, dismounting, approached her and raised his cap in respectful salute. He was young andwell-looking, evidently one accustomed to polite society. 

"Good afternoon, Captain Haralson, " said Oriana, with her most gracioussmile. "I am very glad to see you, although, as you bring your militaryescort, I presume you come to see Beverly upon business, and not for thefriendly visit you promised me. But Beverly is not here. "

"I left him at the camp on duty, Miss Weems, " replied the captain. "Itis my misfortune that my own duties have been too strict of late topermit me the pleasure of my contemplated visit. "

"I must bide my time, captain. Let me introduce my friend. Captain Hare, our prisoner, Mr. Haralson; but I know you will help me to make himforget it, when I tell you that he was my brother's schoolmate and isour old and valued friend. "

The young officer took Harold frankly by the hand, but he looked graveand somewhat disconcerted as he answered:

"Captain Hare, as a soldier, will forgive me that my duty compels me toplay a most ungracious part upon our first acquaintance. I have ordersto return with him to headquarters, where I trust his acceptance ofparole will enable me to avail myself of your introduction to show himwhat courtesy our camp life admits, in atonement for the execution of mypresent unpleasant devoir. "

"I shall esteem your acquaintance the more highly, " answered Harold, "that you know so well to blend your soldiership with kindness. I amentirely at your disposition, sir, having only to apologize to MissWeems for the deprivation of her contemplated ride. "

"Oh, no, we must not lose our ride, " said Oriana. "It is perhaps thelast we shall enjoy together, and such a lovely afternoon. I am surethat Captain Haralson is too gallant to interrupt our excursion. "

She turned to him with an arch smile, but he looked serious as hereplied:

"Alas! Miss Weems, our gallantry receives some rude rebuffs in the harshschool of the soldier. It grieves me to mar your harmless recreation, but even that mortification I must endure when it comes in the strictline of my duty. "

"But your duty does not forbid you to take a canter with us thischarming afternoon. Now put away that military sternness, which does notbecome you at all, and help me to mount my pretty Nelly, who is gettingimpatient to be off. And so am I. Come, you will get into camp in dueseason, for we will go only as far as the Run, and canter all the way. "

She took his arm, and he assisted her to the saddle, won intoacquiescence by her graceful obstinacy, and, in fact, seeing but littleharm the tufted hills rolled into one another like the waves of aswelling sea, their crests tipped with the slant rays of the descendingsun, and their graceful slopes alternating among purple shadows andgleams of floating light. 

"It is indeed so beautiful, " answered Harold, "that I should deem youmight be content to live there as of old, without inviting the terriblecompanionship of Mars. "

"We do not invite it, " said the young captain. "Leave us in peacefulpossession of our own, and no war cries shall echo among those hills. IfMars has driven his chariot into our homes, he comes at your bidding, anunwelcome intruder, to be scourged back again. "

"At our bidding! No. The first gun that was fired at Sumter summonedhim, and if he should leave his foot-prints deep in your soil, you havewell earned the penalty. "

"It will cost you, to inflict it, many such another day's work as thatat Manassas a month ago. "

The taunt was spoken hastily, and the young Southron colored as ifashamed of his discourtesy, and added:

"Forgive me my ungracious speech. It was my first field, sir, and I amwont to speak of it too boastingly. I shall become more modest, I hope, when I shall have a better right to be a boaster. "

"Oh, " replied Harold, "I admit the shame of our discomfiture, and takeit as a good lesson to our negligence and want of purpose. But all thathas passed away. One good whipping has awakened us to an understandingof the work we have in hand. Henceforth we will apply ourselves to thetask in earnest. "

"You think, then, that your government will prosecute the war morevigorously than before?"

"Undoubtedly. You have heard but the prelude of a gale that shall sweepevery vestige of treason from the land. "

"Let it blow on, " said the Southron, proudly. "There will becounter-blasts to meet it. You cannot raise a tempest that will make usbow our heads. "

"Do you not think, " interrupted Oriana, "that a large proportion of yourNorthern population are ready at least to listen to terms ofseparation?"

"No, " replied Harold, firmly. "Or if there be any who entertain suchthoughts, we will make them outcasts among us, and the finger of scornwill be pointed at them as recreant to their holiest duty. "

"That is hardly fair, " said Oriana. "Why should you scorn or maltreatthose who honestly believe that the doctrine in support of which so manyare ready to stake their lives and their fortunes, may be worthy ofconsideration? Do you believe us all mad and wicked people in theSouth--people without hearts, and without brains, incapable of formingan opinion that is worth an argument? If there are some among you whothink we are acting for the best, and Heaven knows we are acting withsincerity, you should give them at least a hearing, for the sake ofliberty of conscience. Remember, there are millions of us united insentiment in the South, and millions, perhaps, abroad who think with us. How can you decide by your mere impulses where the right lies?"

"We decide by the promptings of our loyal hearts, and by our reason, which tells us that secession is treason, and that treason must becrushed. "

"Heart and brain have been mistaken ere now, " returned Oriana. "But ifyou are a type of your countrymen, I see that hard blows alone willteach you that God has given us the right to think for ourselves. "

"Do you believe, then, " asked Haralson, "that there can be no peacebetween us until one side or the other shall be exhausted and subdued?"

"Not so, " replied Harold. "I think that when we have retrieved thedisgrace of Bull Run and given you in addition, some wholesomechastisement, your better judgment will return to you, and you willaccept forgiveness at our hands and return to your allegiance. "

"You are mistaken, " said the Southron. "Even were we ready to acceptyour terms, you would not be ready to grant them. Should the Northsucceed in striking some heavy blow at the South, I will tell you whatwill happen; your abolitionists will seize the occasion of the peoples'exultation to push their doctrine to a consummation. Whenever you shallhear the tocsin of victory sounding in the North, then listen for theechoing cry of emancipation--for you will hear it. You will see it inevery column of your daily prints; you will hear your statesmen urgingit in your legislative halls, and your cabinet ministers making it theirtheme. And, most dangerous of all, you will hear your generals andcolonels, demagogues, at heart, and soldiers only of occasion, preachingit to their battalions, and making converts of their subordinates by themere influences of their rank and calling. And when your militarychieftains harangue their soldiers upon political themes, think not ofour treason as you call it, but look well to the political freedom thatis still your own. With five hundred thousand armed puppets, moving atthe will of a clique of ambitious epauletted politicians andexperimentalists, you may live to witness, whether we be subdued or not, a _coup d'etat_ for which there is a precedent not far back in theannals of republics. "

"Have you already learned to contemplate the danger that you areincurring? Do you at last fear the monster that you have nursed andstrengthened in your midst? Well, if your slaves should rise againstyou, surely you cannot blame us for the evil of your own creation. "

"It is the hope of your abolitionists, not our fear, that I amrehearsing. Should your armies obtain a foothold on our soil, we knowthat you will put knives and guns into the hands of our slaves, andincite them to emulate the deeds of their race in San Domingo. You willparcel out our lands and wealth to your victorious soldiery, not so muchas a reward for their past services, but to seal the bond between themand the government that will seek to rule by their bayonets. You see, weknow the peril and are prepared to meet it. Should you conquer us, atthe same time you would conquer the liberties of the Northern citizen. You will be at the mercy of the successful general whose triumph maymake him the idol of the armed millions that alone can accomplish oursubjugation. In the South, butchery and rapine by hordes of desperatenegroes--in the North anarchy and political intrigue, to be merged intodictatorship and the absolutism of military power. Such would be theresults of your triumph and our defeat. "

"Those are the visions of a heated brain, " said Harold. "I must confessthat your fighting is better than your logic. There is no danger to ourcountry that the loyalty of its people cannot overcome--as it will yourrebellion. "

CHAPTER XXVI. 

They had now approached the edge of the plain which Oriana had pointedout on the preceding day. The sun, which had been tinging the westernsky with gorgeous hues, was peering from among masses of purple andgolden clouds, within an hour's space of the horizon. Captain Haralson, interested and excited by his disputation, had been riding leisurelyalong by the side of his prisoner, taking but little note of the routeor of the lapse of time. 

"Cease your unprofitable argument, " cried Oriana, "and let us have arace over this beautiful plain. Look! 'tis as smooth as a race-course, and I will lay you a wager, Captain Haralson, that my Nelly will leadyou to yonder clump, by a neck. "

She touched her horse lightly with the whip, and turned from the roadinto the meadows. 

"It is late, Miss Weems, " said the Southron, "and I must report atheadquarters before sundown. Besides, I am badly mounted, and it wouldbe but a sorry victory to distance me. I pray you, let us return. "

"Nonsense! Nelly is not breathed. I must have one fair run over thisfield; and, gentlemen, I challenge you both to outstrip Nelly if youcan. "

With a merry shout, she struck the fleet mare smartly on the flank, andthe spirited animal, more at the sound of her voice than aroused by thewhip-lash, stretched forward her neck and sprang over the tufted level. Harold waved his hand, as if in invitation, to his companion, and wassoon urging his powerful horse in the same direction. Haralson shoutedto them to stop, but they only turned their heads and beckoned to himgaily, and plunging the spurs into the strong but heavy-hoofed chargerthat he rode, he followed them as best he could. He kept close in theirrear very well at first, but he soon observed that he was losingdistance, and that the two swift steeds in front, that had been held incheck a little at the start, were now skimming the smooth meadow at atremendous pace. 

"Halt!" he cried, at the top of his lungs; but either they heard it notor heeded it not, for they still swept on, bending low forward in thesaddle, almost side by side. 

A vague suspicion crossed his mind. 

"Halt, there!"

Oriana glanced over her shoulder, and could see a sunray gleaming fromsomething that he held in his right hand. He had drawn a pistol from hisholster. She slackened her pace a little, and allowing Harold to takethe lead, rode on in the line between him and the pursuer. Harold turnedin his saddle. She could hear the tones of his voice rushing past her onthe wind. 

"Come no further with me, lest suspicion attach to yourself. The goodhorse will bear me beyond pursuit. Remember, it is for Arthur's sake Ihave consented you should make this sacrifice. God bless you! andfarewell!"

A pistol-shot resounded in the air. Oriana knew it was fired but tointimidate--the distance was too great to give the leaden messenger adeadlier errand. Yet she drew rein, and waited, breathless withexcitement and swift motion, till Haralson came up. He turned onereproachful glance upon her as he passed, and spurred on in pursuit. Harold turned once again, to assure himself that she was unhurt, thenwaved his hand, and urging his swift steed to the utmost, sped on towardthe forest which was now close at hand. The two troopers soon camegalloping up to where Oriana still sat motionless upon her saddle, watching the race with strained eyes and heaving bosom. 

"Your prisoner has escaped, " she said; "spur on in pursuit. "

She knew that it was of no avail, for Harold had already disappearedamong the mazes of the wood, and the sun was just dipping below thehorizon. Darkness would soon shroud the fugitive in its friendly mantle. She turned Nelly's head homeward, and cantered silently away in thegathering twilight. 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

When Captain Haralson and the two troopers reached the verge of theforest, they could trace for a short distance the hoof-prints ofHarold's horse, and followed them eagerly among the labyrinthine pathswhich the fugitive had made through the tangled shrubbery and among thebriery thickets. But soon the gloom of night closed in upon them in thedepth of the silent wood, and they were left without a sign by which todirect the pursuit. It was near midnight when they reached the furtheredge of the forest, and there, throwing fantastic gleams of red lightamong the shadows of the tall trees, they caught sight of what seemed tobe the glimmer of a watchfire. Soon after, the growl of a hound washeard, followed by a deep-mouthed bay, and approaching cautiously, theywere hailed by the watchful sentinel. It was a Confederate picket, posted on the outskirt of the forest, and Haralson, making himselfknown, rode up to where the party, awakened by their approach, hadroused themselves from their blankets, and were standing with readyrifles beside the blazing fagots. 

Haralson made known his errand to the officer in command, and thesentries were questioned, but all declared that nothing had disturbedtheir watch; if the fugitive had passed their line, he had succeeded ineluding their vigilance. 

"I must send one of my men back to camp to report the escape, " saidHaralson, "and will ask you to spare me a couple of your fellows to helpme hunt the Yankee down. Confound him, I deserve to lose my epaulettesfor my folly, but I'll follow him to the Potomac, rather than return toheadquarters without him. "

"Who was it?" asked the officer; "was he of rank?"

"A captain, Captain Hare, well named for his fleetness; but he wasmounted superbly, and I suspect the whole thing was cut and dried. "

"Hare?" cried a hoarse voice; and the speaker, a tall, lank man, who hadbeen stretched by the fire, with the head of a large, gaunt bloodhoundin his lap, rose suddenly and stepped forward. 

"Harold Hare, by G--d!" he exclaimed; "I know the fellow. Captain, I'mwith you on this hunt, and Bully there, too, who is worth the pair ofus. Hey, Bully?"

The dog stretched himself lazily, and lifted his heavy lip with a grinabove the formidable fangs that glistened in the gleam of the watchfire. 

"You may go, " said his officer, "but I can't spare another. You three, with the dog, will be enough. Rawbon's as good a man as you can get, captain. Set a thief to catch a thief, and a Yankee to outwit a Yankee. You'd better start at once, unless you need rest or refreshment. "

"Nothing, " replied Haralson. "Let your man put something into hishaversack. Good night, lieutenant. Come along, boys, and keep your eyespeeled, for these Yankees are slippery eels, you know. "

Seth Rawbon had already bridled his horse that was grazing hard by, andthe party, with the hound close at his master's side, rode forth upontheir search. 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

Harold had perceived the watchfire an hour earlier than his pursuers, having obtained thus much the advantage of them by the fleetness of hissteed. He moved well off to the right, riding slowly and cautiously, until another faint glimmer in that direction gave him to understandthat he was about equi-distant between two pickets of the enemy. Hedismounted at the edge of the forest, and securing his steed to thebranch of a tree, crept forward a few paces beyond the shelter of thewood, and looked about earnestly in the darkness. Nothing could be seenbut the long, straggling line of the forest losing itself in the gloom, and the black outlines, of the hills before him; but his quick eardetected the sound of coming hoof and the ringing of steel scabbards. Apatrol was approaching, and fearful that his horse, conscious of theneighborhood of his kind, might betray his presence with a sign ofrecognition, he hurried back, and standing beside the animal, caressedhis glossy neck and won his attention with the low murmurs of his voice. The good steed remained silent, only pricking up his ears and peeringthrough the branches as the patrol went clattering by. Harold waitedtill the trampling of hoofs died away in the distance, and judging, fromtheir riding on without a challenge or a pause, that there was no sentrywithin hail, he mounted and rode boldly out into the open country. Thestars were mostly obscured by heavy clouds, but here and there was apatch of clear blue sky, and his eye, practised with many a surveyingnight-tramp, discovered at last a twinkling guide by which to shape hispath in a northerly direction. It was a wild, rough country over whichhe passed. With slow and careful steps, his sagacious steed moved on, obedient to the rein, at one time topping the crest of a rugged hill, and then winding at a snail's pace down the steep declivity, orfollowing the tortuous course of the streamlet through deep ravines, whose jagged and bush-clad sides frowned down upon them on either side, deepening the gloom of night. 

So all through the long hours of darkness, Harold toiled on his lonelyway, startled at times by the shriek of the night bird, and listeningintently to catch the sign of danger. At last the dawn, welcome althoughit enhanced the chances of detection, blushed faintly through theclouded eastern sky, and Harold, through the mists of morning, could seea fair and rolling landscape stretched before him. The sky was overcast, and presently the heavy drops began to fall. Consulting the littlefriendly compass which Oriana had given him, he pushed on briskly, turning always to the right or left, as the smoke, circling from someearly housewife's kitchen, betrayed the dangerous neighborhood of ahuman habitation. 

Crossing a rivulet, he dismounted, and filled a small leathern bottlethat he carried with him, his good steed and himself meanwhilesatisfying their thirst from the cool wave. His appetite, freshened byexercise, caused him to remember a package which Oriana's forethoughthad provided for him on the preceding afternoon. He drew it from, hispocket, and while his steed clipped the tender herbage from thestreamlet's bank, he made an excellent breakfast of the corn bread andbacon, and other substantial edibles, which his kind friend hadbountifully supplied. Man and horse thus refreshed, he remounted, androde forward at a gallant pace, the strong animal he bestrode seeming asyet to show no signs of fatigue. 

The rain was now falling in torrents, a propitious circumstance, sinceit lessened the probabilities of his encountering the neighboringinhabitants, most of whom must have sought shelter from the peltingstorm. He occasionally came up with a trudging negro, sometimes a groupof three or four, who answered timidly whenever he accosted them, andglanced at him askance, but yet gave the information he requested. Once, indeed, he could discern a troop of cavalry plashing along at samedistance through the muddy road, but he screened himself in a cornfield, and was unobserved. His watch had been injured in the battle, and he hadno means, except conjecture, of judging of the hour; but by the flaggingpace of his horse, and his own fatigue, he knew that he must have beenmany hours in the saddle. Surely the Potomac must be at hand! Yet therewas no sign of it, and over interminable hill and dale, throughcorn-fields, and over patches of woodland and meadow, the weary steedwas urged on, slipping and sliding in the saturated soil. What was thatsound which caused his horse to prick up his ears and quicken his pacewith the instinct of danger? He heard it himself distinctly. It was thebaying of a bloodhound. 

"They are on my track!" muttered Harold; "and unless the river is athand, I am lost. Forward, sir! forward, good fellow!" he shoutedcheerily to his horse, and the noble animal, snorting and tossing hissilken mane, answered with an effort, and broke into a gallop. 

Down one hill into a little valley they pushed on, and up the ascent ofanother. They reached the crest, and then, thank Heaven! there was thebroad river, winding through the valley. Dull and leaden hued as itlooked, reflecting the clouded sky, he had never hailed it so joyfullywhen sparkling with sunbeams as he did at the close of that weary day. Yet the danger was not past; up and down the stream he gazed, and far tothe right he could distinguish a group of tents peering from among thefoliage of a grove, and marking the site of a Confederate battery. Butjust in front of him was a cheering sight; an armed schooner swunglazily at anchor in the channel, and the wet bunting that droopedlistlessly over her stern, revealed the stars and stripes. 

The full tones of the bloodhound's voice aroused him to the necessity ofaction; he turned in the saddle and glanced over the route he had come. On the crest of the hill beyond that on which he stood, the forms ofthree horsemen were outlined against the greyish sky. They distinguishedhim at the same moment, for he could hear their shouts of exultation, borne to him on the humid air. 

It was yet a full mile to the river bank, and his horse was almostbroken down with fatigue. Dashing his armed heels against the throbbingflanks of the jaded animal, he rushed down the hill in a straight linefor the water. The sun was already below the horizon, and darkness wascoming on apace. As he pushed on, the shouts of his pursuers rang louderupon his ear at every rod; it was evident that they were fresh mounted, while his own steed was laboring, with a last effort, over the ruggedground, stumbling among stones, and groaning at intervals with theseverity of exertion. He could hear the trampling behind him, he couldcatch the words of triumph that seemed to be shouted almost in his veryear. A bullet whizzed by him, and then another, and with each reportthere came a derisive cheer. But it was now quite dark, and that, withthe rapid motion, rendered him comparatively fearless of being struck. He spurred on, straining his eyes to see what was before him, for itseemed that the ground in front became suddenly and curiously lost inthe mist and gloom. Just then, simultaneously with the report of apistol, he felt his good steed quiver beneath him; a bullet had reachedhis flank, and the poor animal fell upon his knees and rolled over inthe agony of death. 

It was well that he had fallen; Harold, thrown forward a few feet, touched the earth upon the edge of the rocky bank that descendedprecipitously a hundred feet or more to the river--a few steps further, and horse and rider would have plunged over the verge of the bluff. 

Harold, though bruised by his fall, was not considerably hurt; withouthesitation, he commenced the hazardous descent, difficult by day, butperilous and uncertain in the darkness. Clinging to each projecting rockand feeling cautiously for a foothold among the slippery ledges, he hadaccomplished half the distance and could already hear the light plashingof the wave upon the boulders below. He heard a voice above, shouting:"Look out for the bluff there, we must be near it!"

The warning came too late. There was a cry of terror--the blended voiceof man and horse, startling the night and causing Harold to crouch withinstinctive horror close to the dripping rock. There was a rush of windand the bounding by of a dark whirling body, which rolled over and over, tearing over the sharp angles of the cliff, and scattering the loosefragments of stone over him as he clung motionless to his support. Thenthere was a dull thump below, and a little afterward a terrible moan, and then all was still. 

Harold continued his descent and reached the base of the bluff insafety. Through the darkness he could see a dark mass lying like ashadow among the pointed stones, with the waves of the river ripplingabout it. He approached it. There lay the steed gasping in the lastagony, and the rider beneath him, crushed, mangled and dead. He stoopeddown by the side of the corpse; it was bent double beneath the quiveringbody of the dying horse, in such a manner as must have snapped the spinein twain. Harold lifted the head, but let it fall again with a shudder, for his fingers had slipped into the crevice of the cleft skull and wereall smeared with the oozing brain. Yet, despite the obscurity and thedisfigurement, despite the bursting eyeballs and the clenched jawsthrough which the blood was trickling, he recognized the features ofSeth Rawbon. 

No time for contemplation or for revery. There was a scramblingoverhead, with now and then a snarl and an angry growl. And further up, he heard the sound of voices, labored and suppressed, as of men who werespeaking while toiling at some unwonted exercise. Harold threw off hiscoat and boots, and waded out into the river. The dark hull of theschooner could be seen looming above the gloomy surface of the water, and he dashed toward it through the deepening wave. There was a splashbehind him and soon he could hear the puffing and short breathing of aswimming dog. He was then up to his arm-pits in the water, and a fewyards further would bring him off his footing. He determined to wait theonset there, while he could yet stand firm upon the shelving bottom. Hehad not long to wait. The bloodhound made directly for him; he could seehis eyes snapping and glaring like red coals above the black water. Harold braced himself as well as he could upon the yielding sand, andheld his poignard, Oriana's welcome gift, with a steady grasp. The dogcame so close that his fetid breath played upon Harold's cheek; then heaimed a swift blow at his neck, but the brute dodged it like a fish. Harold lost his balance and fell forward into the water, but in falling, he launched out his left hand and caught the tough loose skin above theanimal's shoulder. He held it with the grasp of a drowning man, and overand over they rolled in the water, like two sea monsters at their sport. With all his strength, Harold drew the fierce brute toward him, circling his neck tightly with his left arm, and pressed the sharp bladeagainst his throat. The hot blood gushed out over his hand, but he drovethe weapon deeper, slitting the sinewy flesh to the right and left, tillthe dog ceased to struggle. Then Harold flung the huge carcass from him, and struck out, breathless as he was, for the schooner. It was time, foralready his pursuers were upon the bank, aiming their pistol shots atthe black spot which they could just distinguish cleaving through thewater. But a few vigorous strokes carried him beyond their vision andthey ceased firing. Soon he heard the sound of muffled oars and a darkshape seemed to rise from the water in front of him. The watch on boardthe schooner, alarmed by the firing, had sent a boat's crew toreconnoitre. Harold divined that it was so, and hailing the approachingboat, was taken in, and ten minutes afterward, stood, exhausted butsafe, upon the schooner's deck. 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

With the earliest opportunity, Harold proceeded to Washington, andsought an interview with the President, in relation to Arthur's case. Mr. Lincoln received him kindly, but could give no informationrespecting the arrest or alleged criminality of his friend. "There wereso many and pressing affairs of state that he could find no room forindividual cases in his memory. " However, he referred him to theSecretary of War, with a request that the latter would look into thematter. By dint of persistent inquiries at various sources, Haroldfinally ascertained that the prisoner had a few days previously beenreleased, upon the assurance of the surgeon at the fort, that hisfailing health required his immediate removal. Inquiry had been madeinto the circumstances leading to his arrest; made too late, however, tobenefit the victim of a State mistake, whose delicate health had alreadybeen too severely tried by the discomforts attendant upon hissituation. However, enough had been ascertained to leave but littledoubt as to his innocence; and Arthur, with the ghastly signs of a rapidconsumption upon his wan cheek, was dismissed from the portals of aprison, which had already prepared him for the tomb. 

Harold hastened to Vermont, whither he knew the invalid had beenconveyed. It was toward the close of the first autumn day that heentered the little village, upon whose outskirts was situated the farmof his dying friend. The air was mild and balmy, but the voices ofnature seemed to him more hushed than usual, as if in mournful unisonwith his own sad reveries. He had passed on foot from the village to thefarm-house, and when he opened the little white wicket, and walked alongthe gravelled avenue that led to the flower-clad porch, the willows oneither side seemed to droop lower than willows are used to droop, andthe soft September air sighed through the swinging boughs, like theprelude of a dirge. 

Arthur was reclining upon an easy-chair upon the little porch, andbeside him sat a venerable lady, reading from the worn silver-claspedBible, which rested on her lap. The lady rose when he approached; andArthur, whose gaze had been wandering among the autumn clouds, thatwreathed the points of the far-off mountains, turned his head languidly, when the footsteps broke his dream. 

He did not rise. Alas! he was too weak to do so without the support ofhis aged mother's arm, which had so often cradled him in infancy and hadnow become the staff of his broken manhood. But a beautiful and happysmile illumined his pale lips, and spread all over the thin and wastedfeatures, like sunlight gleaming on the grey surface of a church-yardstone. He lifted his attenuated hand, and when Harold clasped it, thefingers were so cold and deathlike that their pressure seemed to closeabout his heart, compressing it, and chilling the life current in hisveins. 

"I knew that you would come, Harold. Although I read that you weremissing at the close of that dreadful battle, something told me that weshould meet again. Whether it was a sick man's fancy, or the foresightof a parting soul, it is realized, for you are here. And you come nottoo soon, Harold, " he added, with a pressure of the feeble hand, "for Iam going fast--fast from the discords of earth--fast to the calm andharmony beyond. "

"Oh, Arthur, how changed you are!" said Harold, who could not keep fromfastening his gaze on the white, sunken cheek and hollow eyes of hisdying comrade. "But you will get better now, will you not--now that youare home again, and we can nurse you?"

Arthur shook his head with a mournful smile, and the fit of painfulcoughing which overtook him answered his friend's vain hope. 

"No, Harold, no. All of earth is past to me, even hope. And I am ready, cheerful even, to go, except for the sake of some loved ones that willsorrow for me. "

He took his mother's hand as he spoke, and looked at her with touchingtenderness, while the poor dame brushed away her tears. 

"I have but a brief while to stay behind, " she said, "and my sorrow willbe less, to know that you have ever been a good son to me. Oh, Mr. Hare, he might have lived to comfort me, and close my old eyes in death, ifthey had not been so cruel with him, and locked him within prisonwalls. He, who never dreamed of wrong, and never injured willingly aworm in his path. "

"Nay, mother, they were not unkind to me in the fort, and did what theycould to make me comfortable. But, Harold, it is wrong. I have thoughtof it in the long, weary nights in prison, and I have thought of it whenI knew that death was beckoning me to come and rest from the thoughts ofearth. It is wrong to tamper with the sacred law that shields thecitizen. I believe that many a man within those fortress walls is asinnocent in the eyes of God as those who sent him there. Yet I accusenone of willful wrong, but only of unconscious error. If the sacrificeof my poor life could shed one ray upon the darkness, I would rejoice tobe the victim that I am, of a violated right. But all, statesmen, andchieftains, and humble citizens, are being swept along upon thewhirlwinds of passion; all hearts are ablaze with the fiery magnificenceof war, and none will take warning till the land shall be desolate, andthousands, stricken in their prime, shall be sleeping--where I shallsoon be--beneath the cold sod. I am weary, mother, and chill. Let us goin. "

They bore him in and helped him to his bed, where he lay pale andsilent, seeming much worse from the fatigue of conversation and theexcitement of his meeting with his old college friend. Mrs. Wayne lefthim in charge of Harold, while she went below to prepare what littlenourishment he could take, and to provide refreshment for her guest. 

Arthur lay, for a space, with his eyes closed, and apparently in sleep. But he looked up, at last, and stretched out his hand to Harold, whopressed the thin fingers, whiter than the coverlet on which they rested. 

"Is mother there?"

"No, Arthur, " replied Harold. "Shall I call her?"

"No. I thought to have spoken to you, to-morrow, of something that hasbeen often my theme of thought; but I know not what strange feeling hascrept upon me; and perhaps, Harold--for we know not what the morrow maybring--perhaps I had better speak now. "

"It hurts you, Arthur; you are too weak. Indeed, you must sleep now, andto-morrow we shall talk. "

"No; now, Harold. It will not hurt me, or if it does, it matters littlenow. Harold, I would fain that no shadow of unkindness should lingerbetween us twain when I am gone. "

"Why should there, Arthur? You have been my true friend always, and assuch shall I remember you. "

"Yet have I wronged you; yet have I caused you much grief andbitterness, and only your own generous nature preserved us fromestrangement. Harold, have you heard from _her_?"

"I have seen her, Arthur. During my captivity, she was my jailer; in mysickness, for I was slightly wounded, she was my nurse. I will tell youall about it to-morrow. "

"Yes, to-morrow, " replied Arthur, breathing heavily. "To-morrow! theword sounds meaningless to me, like something whose significance hasleft me. Is she well, Harold?"

"Yes. "

"And happy?"

"I think so, Arthur. As happy as any of us can be, amid severed ties anddread uncertainties. "

"I am glad that she is well. Harold, you will tell her, for I am sureyou will meet again, you will tell her it was my dying wish that you twoshould be united. Will you promise, Harold?"

"I will tell her all that you wish, Arthur. "

"I seem to feel that I shall be happy in my grave, to know that, shewill be your wife; to know that my guilty love--for I loved her, Harold, and it _was_ guilt to love--to know that it left no poison behind, thatits shadow has passed away from the path that you must tread. "

"Speak not of guilt, my friend. There could live no crime between twosuch noble hearts. And had I thought you would have accepted thesacrifice, I could almost have been happy to have given her to you, somuch was her happiness the aim of my own love. "

"Yes, for you have a glorious heart, Harold; and I thank Heaven that shecannot fail to love you. And you do not think, do you, Harold, that itwould be wrong for you two to speak of me when I am gone? I cannot bearto think that you should deem it necessary to drive me from yourmemories, as one who had stepped in between your hearts. I am sure shewill love you none the less for her remembrance of me, and thereforesometimes you will talk together of me, will you not?"

"Yes, we will often talk of you, for what dearer theme to both could wechoose; what purer recollections could our memories cherish than of thefriend we both loved so much, and who so well deserved our love?"

"And I am forgiven, Harold?"

"Were there aught to be forgiven, I would forgive; but I have neverharbored in my most secret heart one trace of anger or resentment towardyou. Do not talk more, dear Arthur. To-morrow, perhaps, you will bestronger, and then we will speak again. Here comes your mother, and shewill scold me for letting you fatigue yourself so much. "

"Raise me a little on the pillow, please. I seem to breathe more heavilyto-night. Thank you, I will sleep now. Good night, mother; I will eatthe gruel when I wake. I had rather sleep now. Good night, Harold!"

He fell into a slumber almost immediately, and they would not disturbhim, although his mother had prepared the food he had been used totake. 

"I think he is better to-night. He seems to sleep more tranquilly, " saidMrs. Wayne. "If you will step below, I have got a dish of tea for you, and some little supper. "

Harold went down and refreshed himself at the widow's neat andhospitable board, and then walked out into the evening, to dissipate, ifpossible, the cloud that was lowering about his heart. He paced up anddown the avenue of willows, and though the fresh night air soothed thefever of his brain, he could not chase away the gloom that weighed uponhis spirit. His mind wandered among mournful memories--the field ofbattle, strewn with the dying and the dead; the hospital where bravesuffering men were groaning under the surgeon's knife; the sick chamber, where his friend was dying. 

"And I, too, " he thought, "have become the craftsman of Death, trainingmy arm and intellect to be cunning in the butchery of my fellows!Wearing the instrument of torture at my side, and using the facultiesGod gave me to mutilate His image. Yet, from the pulpit and thestatesman's chair, and far back through ages from the pages of history, precept and example have sought to record its justification, under thegiant plea of necessity. But is it justified? Has man, in hisenlightenment, sufficiently studied to throw aside the hereditary errorsthat come from the past, clothed in barbarous splendors to misleadthought and dazzle conscience? Oh, for one glimpse of the Eternal Truth!to teach us how far is delegated to mortal man the right to take awaythe life he cannot give. When shall the sword be held accursed? Whenshall man cease to meddle with the most awful prerogative of his God?When shall our right hands be cleansed forever from the stain of blood, and homicide be no longer a purpose and a glory upon earth? I shudderwhen I look up at the beautiful serenity of this autumn sky, andremember that my deed has loosened an immortal soul from its clay, andhurled it, unprepared, into its Maker's presence. My conscience wouldrebuke my hand, should it willfully shatter the sculptor's marblewrought into human shape, or deface the artist's ideal pictured uponcanvas, or destroy aught that is beautiful and costly of man's ingenuityand labor. And yet these I might replace with emptying a purse into thecraftsman's hand. But will my gold recall the vital spark into thosecold forms that, stricken by my steel or bullet, are rotting in theirgraves? The masterpiece of God I have destroyed. His image have Idefaced; the wonderful mechanism that He alone can mold, and molded forHis own holy purpose, have I shattered and dismembered; the soul, anessence of His own eternity, have I chased from its alotted earthlyhome, and I rely for my justification upon--what?--the fact that myvictim differed from me in political belief. Must the hand of man beraised against the workmanship of God because an earthly bond has beensundered? Our statesmen teach us so, the ministers of our faithpronounce it just; but, oh God! should it be wrong! When the blood ishot, when the heart throbs with exaltation, when martial music swells, and the war-steed prances, and the bayonets gleam in the brightsunlight--then I think not of the doubt, nor of the long train ofhorrors, the tears, the bereavements, the agonies, of which this martialmagnificence is but the vanguard. But now, in the still calmness of thenight, when all around me and above me breathes of the loveliness andholiness of peace, I fear. I question nature, hushed as she is andsmiling in repose, and her calm beauty tells me that Peace is sacred;that her Master sanctions no discords among His children. I question myown conscience, and it tells me that the sword wins not the everlastingtriumph--that the voice of war finds no echo within the gates ofheaven. "

Ill-comforted by his reflections, he returned to the quiet dwelling, andentered the chamber of his friend. 

CHAPTER XXX. 

The sufferer was still sleeping, and Mrs. Wayne was watching by thebedside. Harold seated himself beside her, and gazed mournfully upon thepale, still features that already, but for the expression of pain thatlingered there, seemed to have passed from the quiet of sleep to thedeeper calm of death. 

"Each moment that I look, " said Mrs. Wayne, wiping her tears away, "Iseem to see the grey shadows of the grave stealing over his brow. Thedoctor was here a few moments before you came. The minister, too, satwith him all the morning. I know from their kind warning that I shallsoon be childless. He has but a few hours to be with me. Oh, my son! myson!"

She bent her head upon the pillow, and wept silently in the bitternessof her heart. Harold forebore to check that holy grief; but when theold lady, with Christian resignation, had recovered her composure, hepressed her to seek that repose which her aged frame so much needed. 

"I will sit by Arthur while you rest awhile; you have already overtaskedyour strength with vigil. I will awake you should there be a change. "

She consented to lie upon the sofa, and soon wept herself to sleep, forshe was really quite broken down with watching. Everything was hushedaround, save the monotones of the insects in the fields, and thebreathing of those that slept. If there is an hour when the soul islifted above earth and communes with holy things, it is in the stillnessof the country night, when the solitary watcher sits beside the pillowof a loved one, waiting the coming of the dark angel, whose footstepsare at the threshold. Harold sat gazing silently at the face of theinvalid; sometimes a feeble smile would struggle with the lines ofsuffering upon the pinched and haggard lineaments, and once from thewhite lips came the murmur of a name, so low that only the solemnstillness made the sound palpable--the name of Oriana. 

Toward midnight, Arthur's breathing became more difficult and painful, and his features changed so rapidly that Harold became fearful that theend was come. With a sigh, he stepped softly to the sofa, and wakenedMrs. Wayne, taking her gently by the hand which trembled in his grasp. She knew that she was awakened to a terrible sorrow--that she was aboutto bid farewell to the joy of her old age. Arthur opened his eyes, butthe weeping mother turned from them; she could not bear to meet them, for already the glassy film was veiling the azure depths whose light hadbeen so often turned to her in tenderness. 

"Give me some air, mother. It is so close--I cannot breathe. "

They raised him upon the pillow, and his mother supported the languidhead upon her bosom. 

"Arthur, my son! are you suffering, my poor boy?"

"Yes. It will pass away. Do not grieve. Kiss me, dear mother. "

He was gasping for breath, and his hand was tightly clasped about hismother's withered palm. She wiped the dampness from his brow, minglingher tears with the cold dews of death. 

"Is Harold there?"

"Yes, Arthur. "

"You will not forget? And you will love and guard her well?"

"Yes, Arthur. "

"Put away the sword, Harold; it is accursed of God. Is not that themoonlight that streams upon the bed?"

"Yes. Does it disturb you, Arthur?"

"No. Let it come in. Let it all come in; it seems a flood of glory. "

His voice grew faint, till they could scarce hear its murmur. Hisbreathing was less painful, and the old smile began to wreathe about hislips, smoothing the lines of pain. 

"Kiss me, dear mother! You need not hold me. I am well enough--I amhappy, mother. I can sleep now. "

He slept no earthly slumber. As the summer air that wafts a rose-leaffrom its stem, gently his last sigh stole upon the stillness of thenight. Harold lifted the lifeless form from the mother's arms, and whenit drooped upon the pillow, he turned away, that the parent might closethe lids of the dead son. 

THE END.