[Illustration: Frontispiece. ]

GUY RIVERS:

A TALE OF GEORGIA. 

BY W. GILMORE SIMMS, AUTHOR OF "THE YEMASSEE, " "THE PARTISAN, " "MELLICHAMPE, ""KATHARINE WALTON, " "THE SCOUT, " "WOODCRAFT, " ETC. 

 "Who wants A sequel may read on. Th' unvarnished tale That follows will supply the place of one. "

 ROGERS' _Italy_. 

New and Revised Edition. 

CHICAGO:DONOHUE, HENNEBERRY & CO. 407-425 DEARBORN STREET

1890

PRINTED AND BOUND BYDONOHUE & HENNEBERRYCHICAGO. 

GUY RIVERS

CHAPTER I. 

THE STERILE PROSPECT AND THE LONELY TRAVELLER. 

Our scene lies in the upper part of the state of Georgia, a region atthis time fruitful of dispute, as being within the Cherokee territories. The route to which we now address our attention, lies at nearly equaldistances between the main trunk of the Chatahoochie and that branch ofit which bears the name of the Chestatee, after a once formidable, butnow almost forgotten tribe. Here, the wayfarer finds himself lost in along reach of comparatively barren lands. The scene is kept frommonotony, however, by the undulations of the earth, and by frequenthills which sometimes aspire to a more elevated title. The tract isgarnished with a stunted growth, a dreary and seemingly half-witheredshrubbery, broken occasionally by clumps of slender pines that raisetheir green tops abruptly, and as if out of place, against the sky. 

The entire aspect of the scene, if not absolutely blasted, wears atleast a gloomy and discouraging expression, which saddens the soul ofthe most careless spectator. The ragged ranges of forest, almostuntrodden by civilized man, the thin and feeble undergrowth, theunbroken silence, the birdless thickets, --all seem to indicate apeculiarly sterile destiny. One thinks, as he presses forward, that somegloomy Fate finds harbor in the place. All around, far as the eye maysee, it looks in vain for relief in variety. There still stretch thedreary wastes, the dull woods, the long sandy tracts, and the rude hillsthat send out no voices, and hang out no lights for the encouragement ofthe civilized man. Such is the prospect that meets the sad and searchingeyes of the wayfarer, as they dart on every side seeking in vain forsolace. 

Yet, though thus barren upon the surface to the eye, the dreary regionin which we now find ourselves, is very far from wanting in resources, such as not only woo the eyes, but win the very soul of civilization. Weare upon the very threshold of the gold country, so famous for itsprolific promise of the precious metal; far exceeding, in thecontemplation of the knowing, the lavish abundance of Mexico and ofPeru, in their palmiest and most prosperous condition. Nor, though onlythe frontier and threshold as it were to these swollen treasures, wasthe portion of country now under survey, though bleak, sterile, anduninviting, wanting in attractions of its own. It contained indicationswhich denoted the fertile regions, nor wanted entirely in the preciousmineral itself. Much gold had been already gathered, with little labor, and almost upon its surface; and it was perhaps only because of thelimited knowledge then had of its real wealth, and of its closeproximity to a more productive territory, that it had been suffered solong to remain unexamined. 

Nature, thus, in a section of the world seemingly unblessed with herbounty, and all ungarnished with her fruits and flowers, seemed desirousof redeeming it from the curse of barrenness, by storing its bosom witha product, which, only of use to the world in its conventionalnecessities, has become, in accordance with the self-creating wants ofsociety, a necessity itself; and however the bloom and beauty of hersummer decorations may refresh the eye of the enthusiast, it would hereseem that, with an extended policy, she had planted treasures, foranother and a greatly larger class, far more precious to the eyes ofhope and admiration than all the glories and beauties in her sylvan andpicturesque abodes. Her very sterility and solitude, when thus found toindicate her mineral treasures, rise themselves into attractions; andthe perverted heart, striving with diseased hopes, and unnaturalpassions, gladly welcomes the wilderness, without ever once thinking howto make it blossom like the rose. 

Cheerless in its exterior, however, the season of the year was one--amild afternoon in May--to mollify and sweeten the severe and sterileaspect of the scene. Sun and sky do their work of beauty upon earth, without heeding the ungracious return which she may make; and a richwarm sunset flung over the hills and woods a delicious atmosphere ofbeauty, burnishing the dull heights and the gloomy pines with goldenhues, far more bright, if for less highly valued by men, than themetallic treasures which lay beneath their masses. Invested by thelavish bounties of the sun, so soft, yet bright, so mild, yet beautiful, the waste put on an appearance of sweetness, if it did not rise into thepicturesque. The very uninviting and unlovely character of thelandscape, rendered the sudden effect of the sunset doubly effective, though, in a colder moment, the spectator might rebuke his ownadmiration with question of that lavish and indiscriminate waste whichcould clothe, with such glorious hues, a region so little worthy of suchbounty; even as we revolt at sight of rich jewels about the brows andneck of age and ugliness. The solitary group of pines, that, here andthere, shot up suddenly like illuminated spires;--the harsh andrepulsive hills, that caught, in differing gradations, a glow and gloryfrom the same bright fountain of light and beauty;--even the low copse, uniform of height, and of dull hues, not yet quite caparisoned forspring, yet sprinkled with gleaming eyes, and limned in pencilling beamsand streaks of fire; these, all, appeared suddenly to be subdued inmood, and appealed, with a freshening interest, to the eye of thetraveller whom at midday their aspects discouraged only. 

And there is a traveller--a single horseman--who emerges suddenly fromthe thicket, and presses forward, not rapidly, nor yet with the mannerof one disposed to linger, yet whose eyes take in gratefully thesoftening influences of that evening sunlight. 

In that region, he who travelled at all, at the time of which we write, must do so on horseback. It were a doubtful progress which any vehiclewould make over the blind and broken paths of that uncultivated realm. Either thus, or on foot, as was the common practice with the mountainhunters; men who, at seventy years of age, might be found as lithe andactive, in clambering up the lofty summit as if in full possession ofthe winged vigor and impulse of twenty-five. 

Our traveller, on the present occasion, was apparently a mere youth. Hehad probably seen twenty summers--scarcely more. Yet his person was talland well developed; symmetrical and manly; rather slight, perhaps, aswas proper to his immaturity; but not wanting in what the backwoodsmencall _heft_. He was evidently no milksop, though slight; carried himselfwith ease and grace; and was certainly not only well endowed with boneand muscle, but bore the appearance, somehow, of a person notunpractised in the use of it. His face was manly like his person; not soround as full, it presented a perfect oval to the eye; the forehead wasbroad, high, and intellectual--purely white, probably because so wellshadowed by the masses of his dark brown hair. His eyes were rathersmall, but dark and expressive, and derived additional expression fromtheir large, bushy, overhanging brows, which gave a commanding, and, attimes, a somewhat fierce expression to his countenance. But his mouthwas small, sweet, exquisitely chiselled, and the lips of a ripe, richcolor. His chin, full and decided, was in character with the nobility ofhis forehead. The _tout ensemble_ constituted a fine specimen ofmasculine beauty, significant at once of character and intelligence. 

Our traveller rode a steed, which might be considered, even in theSouth, where the passion for fine horses is universal, of the choicestparentage. He was blooded, and of Arabian, through English, stocks. Youmight detect his blood at a glance, even as you did that of his rider. The beast was large, high, broad-chested, sleek of skin, wiry of limb, with no excess of fat, and no straggling hair; small ears, a gloriousmane, and a great lively eye. At once docile and full of life, he trodthe earth with the firm pace of an elephant, yet with the ease of anantelope; moving carelessly as in pastime, and as if he bore no sort ofburden on his back. For that matter he might well do so. His rider, though well developed, was too slight to be felt by such a creature--anda small portmanteau carried all his wardrobe. Beyond this he had no_impedimenta_; and to those accustomed only to the modes of travel in amore settled and civilized country--with bag and baggage--the travellermight have appeared--but for a pair of moderately-sized twisted barrelswhich we see pocketed on the saddle--rather as a gentleman of leisuretaking his morning ride, than one already far from home and increasingat every step the distance between it and himself. From our privilege wemake bold to mention, that, strictly proportioned to their capacities, the last named appurtenances carried each a charge which might haverendered awkward any interruption; and it may not be saying too much ifwe add, that it is not improbable to this portion of his equipage ourtraveller was indebted for that security which had heretofore obviatedall necessity for their use. They were essentials which might or mightnot, in that wild region, have been put in requisition; and the prudenceof all experience, in our border country, is seldom found to neglectsuch companionship. 

So much for the personal appearance and the equipment of our youngtraveller. We have followed the usage among novelists, and have dweltthus long upon these details, as we design that our adventurer shalloccupy no small portion of the reader's attention. He will have much todo and to endure in the progress of this narrative. 

It may be well, in order to the omission of nothing hereafter important, to add that he seems well bred to the _manège_--and rode with that easeand air of indolence, which are characteristic of the gentry of thesouth. His garments were strictly suited to the condition and custom ofthe country--a variable climate, rough roads, and rude accommodations. They consisted of a dark blue frock, of stuff not so fine as strong, with pantaloons of the same material, all fitting well, happily adjustedto the figure of the wearer, yet sufficiently free for any exercise. Hewas booted and spurred, and wore besides, from above the knee to theankle, a pair of buckskin leggins, wrought by the Indians, and trimmed, here and there, with beaded figures that gave a somewhat fantastic airto this portion of his dress. A huge cloak strapped over the saddle, completes our portrait, which, at the time of which we write, was thatof most travellers along our southern frontiers. We must not omit tostate that a cap of fur, rather than a fashionable beaver, was also theordinary covering of the head--that of our traveller was of afinely-dressed fur, very far superior to the common fox skin cap worn bythe plain backwoodsmen. It declared, somewhat for the superior socialcondition of the wearer, even if his general air and carriage did notsufficiently do so. 

Our new acquaintance had, by this time, emerged into one of thoseregions of brown, broken, heathery waste, thinly mottled with tree andshrub, which seem usually to distinguish the first steppes on theapproach to our mountain country. Though undulating, and risingoccasionally into hill and crag, the tract was yet sufficientlymonotonous; rather saddened than relieved by the gentle sunset, whichseemed to gild in mockery the skeleton woods and forests, justrecovering from the keen biting blasts of a severe and protractedwinter. 

Our traveller, naturally of a dreamy and musing spirit, here fellunconsciously into a narrow footpath, an old Indian trace, and withoutpause or observation, followed it as if quite indifferent whither itled. He was evidently absorbed in that occupation--a very unusual onewith youth on horseback--that "chewing of the cud of sweet and bitterthought"--which testifies for premature troubles and still gnawinganxieties of soul. His thoughts were seemingly in full unison with thealmost grave-like stillness and solemn hush of everything around him. His spirit appeared to yield itself up entirely to the mournfulbarrenness and uninviting associations, from which all but himself, birds and beasts, and the very insects, seemed utterly to have departed. The faint hum of a single wood-chuck, which, from its confused motions, appeared to have wandered into an unknown territory, and by its uneasyaction and frequent chirping, seemed to indicate a perfect knowledge ofthe fact, was the only object which at intervals broke through the spellof silence which hung so heavily upon the sense. The air of ourtraveller was that of one who appeared unable, however desirous he mightbe, to avoid the train of sad thought which such a scene was soeminently calculated to inspire; and, of consequence, who seemeddisposed, for this object, to call up some of those internal resourcesof one's own mind and memory, which so mysteriously bear us away fromthe present, whatever its powers, its pains, or its pleasures, and tocarry us into a territory of the heart's own selection. But, whether thepast in his case, were more to be dreaded than the present; or whetherit was that there was something in the immediate prospect which appealedto sterile hopes, and provoking memories, it is very certain that ouryoung companion exhibited a most singular indifference to the fact thathe was in a wild empire of the forest--a wilderness--and that the sunwas rapidly approaching his setting. The bridle held heedlessly, layloose upon the neck of his steed; and it was only when the noble animal, more solicitous about his night's lodging than his rider, or renderedanxious by his seeming stupor, suddenly came to a full stand in thenarrow pathway, that the youth seemed to grow conscious of his doubtfulsituation, and appeared to shake off his apathy and to look about him. 

He now perceived that he had lost the little Indian pathway which he hadso long pursued. There was no sign of route or road on any side. Theprospect was greatly narrowed; he was in a valley, and the trees hadsuddenly thickened around him. Certain hills, which his eyes hadhitherto noted on the right, had disappeared wholly from sight. He hadevidently deflected greatly from his proper course, and the horizon wasnow too circumscribed to permit him to distinguish any of those guidingsigns upon which he had relied for his progress. From a bald tract hehad unwittingly passed into the mazes of a somewhat thickly-growingwood. 

"Old Blucher, " he said, addressing his horse, and speaking in clearsilvery tones--"what have you done, old fellow? Whither have you broughtus?"

The philosophy which tells us, when lost, to give the reins to thesteed, will avail but little in a region where the horse has never beenbefore. This our traveller seemed very well to know. But the blame wasnot chargeable upon Blucher. He had tacitly appealed to the beast forhis direction when suffering the bridle to fall upon his neck. He wasnot willing, now, to accord to him a farther discretion; and was quitetoo much of the man to forbear any longer the proper exercise of his ownfaculties. With the quickening intelligence in his eyes, and thecompression of his lips, declaring a resolute will, he pricked theanimal forward, no longer giving way to those brown musings, which, during the previous hour, had not only taken him to remote regions butvery much out of his way besides. In sober earnest, he had lost the way, and, in sober earnest, he set about to recover it; but a ten minutes'farther ride only led him to farther involvements; and he paused, for amoment, to hold tacit counsel with his steed, whose behavior was verymuch that of one who understands fully his own, and the predicament ofhis master. Our traveller then dismounted, and, suffering his bridle torest upon the neck of the docile beast, he coursed about on all sides, looking close to the earth in hopes to find some ancient traces of apathway. But his search was vain. His anxieties increased. The sunlightwas growing fainter and fainter; and, in spite of the reckless manner, which he still wore, you might see a lurking and growing anxiety in hisquick and restless eye. He was vexed with himself that he had sufferedhis wits to let fall his reins; and his disquiet was but imperfectlyconcealed under the careless gesture and rather philosophic swing of hisgraceful person, as, plying his silent way, through clumps of brush, andbush, and tree, he vainly peered along the earth for the missing tracesof the route. He looked up for the openings in the tree-tops--he lookedwest, at the rapidly speeding sun, and shook his head at his horse. Though bold of heart, no doubt, and tolerably well aware of the usualbackwoods mode of procedure in all such cases of embarrassment, ourtraveller had been too gently nurtured to affect a lodge in thewilderness that night--its very "vast contiguity of shade" beinganything but attractive in his present mood. No doubt, he could haveborne the necessity as well as any other man, but still he held it anecessity to be avoided if possible. He had, we are fain to confess, butsmall passion for that "grassy couch, " and "leafy bower, " and thoseother rural felicities, of which your city poets, who lie snug ingarrets, are so prone to sing; and always gave the most unromanticpreference to comfortable lodgings and a good roof; so, persevering inhis search after the pathway, while any prospect of success remained, hecircled about until equally hopeless and fatigued; then, remounted hissteed, and throwing the bridle upon his neck, with something of theindifference of despair, he plied his spurs, suffering the animal toadopt his own course, which we shall see was nevertheless interrupted bythe appearance of another party upon the scene, whose introduction wereserve for another chapter. 

CHAPTER II. 

THE ENCOUNTER--THE CHEVALIER D'INDUSTRIE. 

Thus left to himself, the good steed of our traveller set off, withouthesitation, and with a free step, that promised, at least, to overcomespace hurriedly, if it attained not the desired destination. The riderdid not suffer any of his own doubts to mar a progress so confidentlybegun; and a few minutes carried the twain, horse and man, deeply, as itwere, into the very bowels of the forest. The path taken by the steedgrew every moment more and more intricate and difficult of access, and, but for the interruption already referred to, it is not impossible thata continued course in the same direction, would have brought the riderto a full stop from the sheer inaccessibleness of the forest. 

The route thus taken lay in a valley which was necessarily more fertile, more densely packed with thicket, than the higher road which our riderhad been pursuing all the day. The branches grew more and more close;and, what with the fallen trees, the spreading boughs, the undergrowth, and broken character of the plain, our horseman was fain to leave thehorse to himself, finding quite enough to do in saving his eyes, andkeeping his head from awkward contact with overhanging timber. The paceof the beast necessarily sunk into a walk. The question with his riderwas, in what direction to turn, to extricate himself from the mazes intowhich he had so rashly ridden? While he mused this question, Blucherstarted suddenly with evidently some new and exciting consciousness. Hisears were suddenly lifted--his eyes were strained upon the copse infront--he halted, as if reluctant to proceed. It was evident that hissenses had taken in some sights, or sounds, which were unusual. 

Of course, our traveller was by no means heedless of this behavior onthe part of the beast. He well knew the superior keenness of the brutesenses, over those of the man; and his own faculties were keenlyenlisted in the scrutiny. There might be wolves along the track--thecountry was not wanting in them; or, more to be feared, there might be apanther lurking along some great overhanging forest bough. There wasneed to be vigilant. Either of these savages would make his propinquityknown, at a short distance, to the senses of an animal so timid as thehorse. Or, it might be, that a worse beast still--always worst of allwhen he emulates the nature of the beast--man!--might be lurking uponthe track! If so, the nature of the peril was perhaps greater still, tothe rider if not the steed. The section of the wild world in which ourtraveller journeyed was of doubtful character; but sparingly suppliedwith good citizens; and most certainly infested with many with whom theworld had quarrelled--whom it had driven forth in shame and terror. 

The youth thought of all these things. But they did not overcome hiswill, or lessen his courage. Preparing himself, as well as he might, forall chances, he renewed his efforts to extricate himself from his thickharborage; pressing his steed firmly, in a direction which seemed toopen fairly, the sky appearing more distinctly through the opening ofthe trees above. Meanwhile, he kept his eyes busy, watching right andleft. Still, he could see nothing, hear nothing, but the slight footfallof his own steed. And yet the animal continued uneasy, his ears prickedup, his head turning, this way and that, with evident curiosity; hisfeet set down hesitatingly, as if uncertain whether to proceed. 

Curious and anxious, our traveller patted the neck of the beastaffectionately, and, in low tones, endeavored to soothe hisapprehensions:

"Quietly, Blucher, quietly? What do you see, old fellow, to make youuneasy? Is it the snug stall, and the dry fodder, and the thirty ears, for which you long. I'faith, old fellow, the chance is that both of uswill seek shelter and supper in vain to-night. "

Blucher pricked up his ears at the tones, however subdued, of hisrider's voice, which he well knew; but his uneasiness continued; and, just when our young traveller, began to feel some impatience at hisrestiffness and coyness, a shrill whistle which rang through the forest, from the copse in front, seemed at once to determine the correctness ofsense in the animal, and the sort of beast which had occasioned hisanxieties. He was not much longer left in doubt as to the cause of theanimal's excitement. A few bounds brought him unexpectedly into apathway, still girdled, however, by a close thicket--and having anascent over a hill, the top of which was of considerable elevationcompared with the plain he had been pursuing. As the horse entered thispathway, and began the ascent, he shyed suddenly, and so abruptly, thata less practised rider would have lost his seat. 

"Quiet, beast! what do you see?"

The traveller himself looked forward at his own query, and soondiscovered the occasion of his steed's alarm. No occasion for alarm, either, judging by appearances; no panther, no wolf, certainly--a manonly--looking innocent enough, were it not for the suspicious fact thathe seemed to have put himself in waiting, and stood directly in themidst of the path that the horseman was pursuing. 

Our traveller, as we have seen, was not wholly unprepared, as well toexpect as to encounter hostilities. In addition to his pistols, whichwere well charged, and conveniently at hand, we may now add that hecarried another weapon, for close quarters, concealed in his bosom. Theappearance of the stranger was not, however, so decided a manifestationof hostility, as to justify his acting with any haste by the prematureuse of his defences. Besides, no man of sense, and such we take ourtraveller to be, will force a quarrel where he can make his waypeacefully, like a Christian and a gentleman. Our young traveller veryquietly observed as he approached the stranger--

"You scare my horse, sir. Will it please you to give us the road?"

"Give you the road?--Oh! yes! when you have paid the toll, youngmaster!"

The manner of the man was full of insolence, and the blood, in a moment, rushed to the cheeks of the youth. He divined, by instinct, that therewas some trouble in preparation for him, and his teeth were silentlyclenched together, and his soul nerved itself for anticipated conflict. He gazed calmly, however, though sternly, at the stranger, who appearednothing daunted by the expression in the eyes of the traveller. His airwas that of quiet indifference, bordering on contempt, as if he knew hisduties, or his man, and was resolved upon the course he was appointed topursue. When men meet thus, if they are persons of even ordinaryintelligence, the instincts are quick to conceive and act, and the youthwas now more assured than ever, that the contest awaited him whichshould try his strength. This called up all his resources, and we mayinfer that he possessed them in large degree, from his quiet forbearanceand deliberation, even when he became fully sensible of the insolence ofthe person with whom he felt about to grapple. 

As yet, however, judging from other appearances, there was no violencemeditated by the stranger. He was simply insolent, and he was in theway. He carried no weapons--none which met the sight, at least, andthere was nothing in his personal appearance calculated to occasionapprehension. His frame was small, his limbs slight, and they did notafford promise of much activity. His face was not ill favored, though aquick, restless black eye, keen and searching, had in it a lurkingmalignity, like that of a snake, which impressed the spectator withsuspicion at the first casual glance. His nose, long and sharp, wasalmost totally fleshless; the skin being drawn so tightly over thebones, as to provoke the fear that any violent effort would cause themto force their way through the frail integument. An untrimmed beard, runwild; and a pair of whiskers so huge, as to refuse all accordance withthe thin diminutive cheeks which wore them; thin lips, and a sharpchin;--completed the outline of a very unprepossessing face, which abroad high forehead did not tend very much to improve or dignify. 

Though the air of the stranger was insolent, and his manner rude, ouryoung traveller was unwilling to decide unfavorably. At all events, hispolicy and mood equally inclined him to avoid any proceeding whichshould precipitate or compel violence. 

"There are many good people in the world"--so he thought--"who arebetter than they promise; many good Christians, whose aspects wouldenable them to pass, in any crowd, as very tolerable and becomingruffians. This fellow may be one of the unfortunate order of virtuouspeople, cursed with an unbecoming visage. We will see before we shoot. "

Thus thought our traveller, quickly, as became his situation. Hedetermined accordingly, while foregoing none of his precautions, to seefarther into the designs of the stranger, before he resorted to anydesperate issues. He replied, accordingly, to the requisition of thespeaker; the manner, rather than the matter of which, had provedoffensive. 

"Toll! You ask toll of me! By what right, sir, and for whom do yourequire it?"

"Look you, young fellow, I am better able to ask questions myself, thanto answer those of other people. In respect to this matter of answering, my education has been wofully neglected. "

The reply betrayed some intelligence as well as insolence. Our travellercould not withhold the retort. 

"Ay, indeed! and in some other respects too, not less important, if I amto judge from your look and bearing. But you mistake your man, let metell you. I am not the person whom you can play your pranks upon withsafety, and unless you will be pleased to speak a little morerespectfully, our parley will have a shorter life, and a rougher ending, than you fancy. "

"It would scarcely be polite to contradict so promising a younggentleman as yourself, " was the response; "but I am disposed to believeour intimacy likely to lengthen, rather than diminish. I hate to partover-soon with company that talks so well; particularly in these woods, where, unless such a chance come about as the present, the lungs of theheartiest youth in the land would not be often apt to find the echo theyseek, though they cried for it at the uttermost pitch of the pipe. "

The look and the language of the speaker were alike significant, and thesinister meaning of the last sentence did not escape the notice of himto whom was addressed. His reply was calm, however, and his mind grewmore at ease, more collected, with his growing consciousness ofannoyance and danger. He answered the stranger in a vein not unlike hisown. 

"You are pleased to be eloquent, worthy sir--and, on any other occasion, I might not be unwilling to bestow my ear upon you; but as I have yet tofind my way out of this labyrinth, for the use of which yourfacetiousness would have me pay a tax, I must forego that satisfaction, and leave the enjoyment for some better day. "

"You are well bred, I see, young sir, " was the reply, "and this forms anadditional reason why I should not desire so soon to break ouracquaintance. If you have mistaken your road, what do you on this?--whyare you in this part of the country, which is many miles removed fromany public thoroughfare?"

"By what right do you ask the question?" was the hurried andunhesitating response. "You are impertinent!"

"Softly, softly, young sir. Be not rash, and let me recommend that yoube more choice in the adoption of your epithets. Impertinent is an uglyword between gentlemen of our habit. Touching my right to ask this orthat question of young men who lose the way, that's neither here northere, and is important in no way. But, I take it, I should have someright in this matter, seeing, young sir, that you are upon the turnpikeand I am the gate-keeper who must take the toll. "

A sarcastic smile passed over the lips of the man as he uttered thesentence, which was as suddenly succeeded, however, by an expression ofgravity, partaking of an air of the profoundest business. The travellersurveyed him for a moment before he replied, as if to ascertain in whatpoint of view properly to understand his conduct. 

"Turnpike! this is something new. I never heard of a turnpike and a gatefor toll, in a part of the world in which men, or honest ones at least, are not yet commonly to be found. You think rather too lightly, my goodsir, of my claim to that most vulgar commodity called common sense, ifyou suppose me likely to swallow this silly story. "

"Oh, doubtless--you are a very sagacious young man, I make no question, "said the other, with a sneer--"but you'll have to pay the turnpike forall that. "

"You speak confidently on this point; but, if I am to pay this turnpike, at least, I may be permitted to know who is its proprietor. "

"To be sure you may. I am always well pleased to satisfy the doubts andcuriosity of young travellers who go abroad for information. I take youto be one of this class. "

"Confine yourself, if you please, to the matter in hand--I grow weary ofthis chat, " said the youth with a haughty inclination, that seemed tohave its effect even upon him with whom he spoke. 

"Your question is quickly answered. You have heard of the PonyClub--have you not?"

"I must confess my utter ignorance of such an institution. I have neverheard even the name before. "

"You have not--then really it is high time to begin the work ofenlightenment. You must know, then, that the Pony Club is the proprietorof everything and everybody, throughout the nation, and in and aboutthis section. It is the king, without let or limitation of powers, forsixty miles around. Scarce a man in Georgia but pays in some sort to itssupport--and judge and jury alike contribute to its treasuries. Fewdispute its authority, as you will have reason to discover, withoutsuffering condign and certain punishment; and, unlike the tributariesand agents of other powers, its servitors, like myself, invested withjurisdiction over certain parts and interests, sleep not in theperformance of our duties; but, day and night, obey its dictates, andperform the various, always laborious, and sometimes dangerous functionswhich it imposes upon us. It finds us in men, in money, in horses. Itassesses the Cherokees, and they yield a tithe, and sometimes a greaterproportion of their ponies, in obedience to its requisitions. Hence, indeed, the name of the club. It relieves young travellers, likeyourself, of their small change--their sixpences; and when they happento have a good patent lever, such a one as a smart young gentleman likeyourself is very apt to carry about him, it is not scrupulous, but helpsthem of that too, merely by way of _pas-time_. "

And the ruffian chuckled in a half-covert manner at his own pun. 

"Truly, a well-conceived sort of sovereignty, and doubtless sufficientlywell served, if I may infer from the representative before me. You mustdo a large business in this way, most worthy sir. "

"Why, that we do, and your remark reminds me that I have quite as littletime to lose as yourself. You now understand, young sir, the toll youhave to pay, and the proprietor who claims it. "

"Perfectly--perfectly. You will not suppose me dull again, most candidkeeper of the Pony Turnpike. But have you made up your mind, in earnest, to relieve me of such trifling encumbrances as those you have justmentioned?"

"I should be strangely neglectful of the duties of my station, not tospeak of the discourtesy of such a neglect to yourself, were I to dootherwise; always supposing you burdened with such encumbrances. I putit to yourself, whether such would not be the effect of my omission. "

"It most certainly would, most frank and candid of all the outlaws. Yourpunctiliousness on this point of honor entitles you, in my mind, to anelevation above and beyond all others of your profession. I admire thegrace of your manner, in the commission of acts which the more tame andtemperate of our kind are apt to look upon as irregular and unlovely. You, I see, have the true notion of the thing. "

The ruffian looked with some doubt upon the youth--inquiringly, as if toaccount in some way for the singular coolness, not to say contemptuousscornfulness, of his replies and manner. There was something, too, of asearching malignity in his glance, that seemed to recognise in hissurvey features which brought into activity a personal emotion in hisown bosom, not at variance, indeed, with the craft he was pursuing, butfully above and utterly beyond it. Dismissing, however, the expression, he continued in the manner and tone so tacitly adopted between theparties. 

"I am heartily glad, most travelled young gentleman, that your opinionso completely coincides with my own, since it assures me I shall not becompelled, as is sometimes the case in the performance of my duties, tooffer any rudeness to one seemingly so well taught as yourself. Knowingthe relationship between us so fully, you can have no reasonableobjection to conform quietly to all my requisitions, and yield thetoll-keeper his dues. "

Our traveller had been long aware, in some degree, of the kind ofrelationship between himself and his companion; but, relying on hisdefences, and perhaps somewhat too much on his own personal capacitiesof defence, and, possibly, something curious to see how far the love ofspeech in his assailant might carry him in a dialogue of so artificial acharacter, he forbore as yet a resort to violence. He found itexcessively difficult, however, to account for the strange nature of thetransaction so far as it had gone; and the language of the robber seemedso inconsistent with his pursuit, that, at intervals, he was almost ledto doubt whether the whole was not the clever jest of some countrysportsman, who, in the guise of a levyer of contributions upon thetraveller, would make an acquaintance, such as is frequent in the South, terminating usually in a ride to a neighboring plantation, and pleasantaccommodations so long as the stranger might think proper to availhimself of them. 

If, on the other hand, the stranger was in reality the ruffian herepresented himself, he knew not how to account for his delay in theassault--a delay, to the youth's mind, without an object--unlessattributable to a temper of mind like that of Robin Hood, and coupled inthe person before him, as in that of the renowned king of the outlaws, with a peculiar freedom and generosity of habit, and a gallantry andadroitness which, in a different field, had made him a knight worthy tofollow and fight for Baldwin and the Holy Cross. Our young traveller wasa _romanticist_, and all of these notions came severally into histhoughts. Whatever might have been the motives of conduct in the robber, who thus audaciously announced himself the member of a club notorious onthe frontiers of Georgia and among the Cherokees for its daringoutlawries, the youth determined to keep up the game so long as itcontinued such. After a brief pause, he replied to the abovepolitely-expressed demand in the following language:--

"Your request, most unequivocal sir, would seem but reasonable; and soconsidering it, I have bestowed due reflection upon it. Unhappily, however, for the Pony Club and its worthy representative, I am quite toopoorly provided with worldly wealth at this moment to part with much ofit. A few shillings to procure you a cravat--such as you may get ofKentucky manufacture--I should not object to. Beyond this, however (andthe difficulty grieves me sorely), I am so perfectly incapacitated fromdoing anything, that I am almost persuaded, in order to the bettering ofmy own condition, to pay the customary fees, and applying to yourhonorable body for the privilege of membership, procure those means oflavish generosity which my necessity, and not my will, prevents me frombestowing upon you. "

"A very pretty idea, " returned he of the road; "and under suchcircumstances, your jest about the cravat from Kentucky is by no meanswanting in proper application. But the fact is, our numbers are just nowcomplete--our ranks are full--and the candidates for the honor are sonumerous as to leave little chance for an applicant. You might becompelled to wait a long season, unless the Georgia penitentiary andGeorgia guard shall create a vacancy in your behalf. "

"Truly, the matter is of very serious regret, " with an air of muchsolemnity, replied the youth, who seemed admirably to have caught up thespirit of the dialogue--"and it grieves me the more to know, that, underthis view of the case, I can no more satisfy you than I can servemyself. It is quite unlucky that your influence is insufficient toprocure me admission into your fraternity; since it is impossible that Ishould pay the turnpike, when the club itself, by refusing memembership, will not permit me to acquire the means of doing so. So, asthe woods grow momently more dull and dark, and as I may have to ridefar for a supper, I am constrained, however unwilling to leave goodcompany, to wish you a fair evening, and a long swing of fortune, mostworthy knight of the highway, and trusty representative of the PonyClub. "

With these words, the youth, gathering up the bridle of the horse, andslightly touching him with the rowel, would have proceeded on hiscourse; but the position of the outlaw now underwent a correspondingchange, and, grasping the rein of the animal, he arrested his fartherprogress. 

"I am less willing to separate than yourself from good company, gentleyouth, as you may perceive; since I so carefully restrain you from aride over a road so perilous as this. You have spoken like a fair andable scholar this afternoon; and talents, such as you possess, come tooseldom into our forests to suffer them, after so brief a sample, toleave us so abruptly. You must come to terms with the turnpike. "

"Take your hands from my horse, sirrah!" was the only response made bythe youth; his tone and manner corresponding with the change in thesituation of the parties. "I would not do you harm willingly; I want noman's blood on my head; but my pistols, let me assure you, are much morereadily come at than my purse. Tempt me not to use them--stand from theway. "

"It may not be, " replied the robber, with a composure and coolness thatunderwent no change; "your threats affect me not. I have not taken myplace here without a perfect knowledge of all its dangers andconsequences. You had better come peaceably to terms; for, were it eventhe case that you could escape _me_, you have only to cast your eye upthe path before you, to be assured of the utter impossibility ofescaping those who aid me. The same glance will also show you thetollgate, which you could not see before. Look ahead, young sir, and bewise in time; and let me perform my duties without hindrance. "

Casting a furtive glance on the point indicated by the ruffian, theyouth saw, for the first time, a succession of bars--a rail fence, infact, of more than usual height--completely crossing the narrow pathwayand precluding all passage. Approaching the place of strife, the sameglance assured him, were two men, well armed, evidently the accomplicesof the robber who had pointed to them as such. The prospect grew moreand more perilous, and the youth, whose mind was one of that sort whichavails itself of its energies seemingly only in emergencies, beheld histrue course, with a moment's reflection, and hesitated not a singlemoment in its adoption. He saw that something more was necessary than torid himself merely of the ruffian immediately before him, and that anunsuccessful blow or shot would leave him entirely at the mercy of thegang. To escape, a free rein must be given to the steed, on which hefelt confident he could rely; and, though prompted by the most naturalimpulse to send a bullet through the head of his assailant, he wiselydetermined on a course which, as it would be unlooked for, had thereforea better prospect of success. 

Without further pause, drawing suddenly from his bosom the bowie-knifecommonly worn in those regions, and bending forward, he aimed a blow atthe ruffian, which, as he had anticipated, was expertly eluded--theassailant, sinking under the neck of the steed, and relying on thestrength of the rein, which he still continued to hold, to keep him fromfalling, while at the same time he kept the check upon the horse. 

This movement was that which the youth had looked for and desired. Theblow was but a feint, for, suddenly turning the direction of the knifewhen his enemy was out of its reach, he cut the bridle upon which thelatter hung, and the head of the horse, freed from the restraint, was asat once elevated in air. The suddenness of his motion whirled theruffian to the ground; while the rider, wreathing his hands in the maneof the noble animal, gave him a free spur, and plunged at once over thestruggling wretch, in whose cheek the glance of his hoof left a deepgash. 

The steed bounded forward; nor did the youth seek to restrain him, though advancing full up the hill and in the teeth of his enemies. Satisfied that he was approaching their station, the accomplices of thefoiled ruffian, who had seen the whole affray, sunk into the covert;but, what was their mortification to perceive the traveller, thoughwithout any true command over his steed, by an adroit use of the brokerbridle, so wheel him round as to bring him, in a few leaps, over thevery ground of the strife, and before the staggering robber had yetfully arisen from the path. By this manoeuvre he placed himself inadvance of the now approaching banditti. Driving his spurs resolutelyand unsparingly into the flanks of his horse, while encouraging him withwell known words of cheer, he rushed over the scene of his late strugglewith a velocity that set all restraint at defiance--his late opponentscarcely being able to put himself in safety. A couple of shots, thatwhistled wide of the mark, announced his extrication from thedifficulty--but, to his surprise, his enemies had been at work behindhim, and the edge of the copse through which he was about to pass, wasblockaded with bars in like manner with the path in front. He heard theshouts of the ruffians in the rear--he felt the danger, if notimpracticability of his pausing for the removal of the rails, and, inthe spirit which had heretofore marked his conduct, he determined uponthe most daring endeavor. Throwing off all restraint from his steed, andfixing himself firmly in the stirrup and saddle, he plunged onward tothe leap, and, to the chagrin of the pursuers, who had relied much uponthe obstruction, and who now appeared in pursuit, the noble animal, without a moment's reluctance, cleared it handsomely. 

Another volley of shot rang in the ears of the youth, as he passed theimpediment, and he felt himself wounded in the side. The wound gave himlittle concern at the moment, for, under the excitement of the strife, he felt not even its smart; and, turning himself upon the saddle, hedrew one of his own weapons from its case, and discharging it, by way oftaunt, in the faces of the outlaws, laughed loud with the exultingspirit of youth at the successful result of an adventure due entirely tohis own perfect coolness, and to the warm courage which had been hispredominating feature from childhood. 

The incident just narrated had dispersed a crowd of gloomy reflections, so that the darkness which now overspread the scene, coupled as it waswith the cheerlessness of prospect before him, had but little influenceupon his spirits. Still, ignorant of his course, and beginning to beenfeebled by the loss of blood, he moderated his speed, and left it tothe animal to choose his own course. But he was neither so cool nor sosanguine, to relax so greatly in his speed as to permit of his beingovertaken by the desperates whom he had so cleverly foiled. He knew thedanger, the utter hopelessness, indeed, of a second encounter with thesame persons. He felt sure that he would be suffered no such long parleyas before. Without restraining his horse, our young traveller simplyregulated his speed by a due estimate of the capacity of the outlaws forpursuit a-foot; and, without knowing whither he sped, having left theroute wholly to the horse, he was suddenly relieved by finding himselfupon a tolerably broad road, which, in the imperfect twilight, heconcluded to be the same from which, in his mistimed musings he hadsuffered his horse to turn aside. He had no means to ascertain the fact, conclusively, and, in sooth, no time; for now he began to feel a strangesensation of weakness; his eyes swam, and grew darkened; a numbnessparalyzed his whole frame; a sickness seized upon his heart; and, aftersundry feeble efforts, under a strong will, to command and compel hispowers, they finally gave way, and he sunk from his steed upon the longgrass, and lay unconscious;--his last thought, ere his senses left him, being that of death! Here let us leave him for a little space, while wehurriedly seek better knowledge of him in other quarters. 

CHAPTER III. 

YOUNG LOVE--THE RETROSPECT. 

It will not hurt our young traveller, to leave him on the greensward, inthe genial spring-time; and, as the night gathers over him, and ahelpful insensibility interposes for the relief of pain, we may availourselves of the respite to look into the family chronicles, and showthe why and wherefore of this errant journey, the antecedents and therelations of our hero. 

Ralph Colleton, the young traveller whose person we have described, andwhose most startling adventure in life, we have just witnessed, was theonly son of a Carolinian, who could boast the best blood of Englishnobility in his veins. The sire, however, had outlived his fortunes, and, late in life, had been compelled to abandon the place of hisnativity--an adventurer, struggling against a proud stomach, and athousand embarrassments--and to bury himself in the less known, but moresecure and economical regions of Tennessee. Born to affluence, withwealth that seemed adequate to all reasonable desires--a nobleplantation, numerous slaves, and the host of friends who necessarilycome with such a condition, his individual improvidence, thoughtlessextravagance, and lavish mode of life--a habit not uncommon in theSouth--had rendered it necessary, at the age of fifty, when the mind, not less than the body, requires repose rather than adventure, that heshould emigrate from the place of his birth; and with resourcesdiminished to a cipher, endeavor to break ground once more in unknownforests, and commence the toils and troubles of life anew. With an onlyson (the youth before us) then a mere boy, and no other family, ColonelRalph Colleton did not hesitate at such an exile. He had found out theworthlessness of men's professions at a period not very remote from thegeneral knowledge of his loss of fortune: and having no other connectionclaiming from him either countenance or support, and but a singlerelative from whom separation might be painful, he felt, comparativelyspeaking, but few of the privations usually following such a removal. Anelder brother, like himself a widower, with a single child, a daughter, formed the whole of his kindred left behind him in Carolina; and, asbetween the two brothers there had existed, at all times, some leadingdissimilar points of disposition and character, an occasionalcorrespondence, due rather to form than to affection, served allnecessary purposes in keeping up the sentiment of kindred in theirbosoms. There were but few real affinities which could bring themtogether. They never could altogether understand, and certainly hadbut a limited desire to appreciate or to approve many of the severaland distinct habits of one another; and thus they separated with butfew sentiments of genuine concern. William Colleton, the elder brother, was the proprietor of several thousand highly valuable andpleasantly-situated acres, upon the waters of the Santee--a river whichirrigates a region in the state of South Carolina, famous for itswealth, lofty pride, polished manners, and noble and consideratehospitality. Affluent equally with his younger brother by descent, marriage had still further contributed toward the growth of possessions, which a prudent management had always kept entire and always improving. Such was the condition of William Colleton, the uncle of the youngRalph, then a mere child, when he was taken by his father intoTennessee. 

There, the fortune of the adventurer still maintained its ancientaspect. He had bought lands, and engaged in trade, and made sundryefforts in various and honorable ways, but without success. Vocationafter vocation had with him a common and certain termination, and aftermany years of profitless experiment, the ways of prosperity were as farremote from his knowledge and as perplexing to his pursuit, as at thefirst hour of his enterprise. In worldly concerns he stood just where hehad started fifteen years before; with this difference for the worse, however, that he had grown older in this space of time, less equal tothe tasks of adventure; and with the moral energies checked as they hadbeen by continual disappointments, recoiling in despondency and gloom, with trying emphasis, upon a spirit otherwise noble and sufficientlydaring for every legitimate and not unwonted species of trial andoccasion. Still, he had learned little, beyond _hauteur_ andquerulousness, from the lessons of experience. Economy was not more theinmate of his dwelling than when he was blessed with the large income ofhis birthright; but, extravagantly generous as ever, his house was theabiding-place of a most lavish and unwise hospitality. 

His brother, William Colleton, on the other hand, with means hourlyincreasing, exhibited a disposition narrowing at times into aselfishness the most pitiful. He did not, it is true, forego or forgetany of those habits of freedom and intercourse in his household and withthose about him, which form so large a practice among the people of thesouth. He could give a dinner, and furnish an ostentatiousentertainment--lodge his guest in the style of a prince for weekstogether, nor exhibit a feature likely to induce a thought of intrusionin the mind of his inmate. In public, the populace had no complaints tourge of his penuriousness; and in all outward shows he manifested thesame general characteristics which marked the habit of the class towhich he belonged. 

But his selfishness lay in things not so much on the surface. It wasmore deep and abiding in its character; and consisted in the falseestimate which he made of the things around him. He had learned to valuewealth as a substitute for mind--for morals--for all that is lofty, andall that should be leading, in the consideration of society. He valuedfew things beside. He had different emotions for the rich from thosewhich he entertained for the poor; and, from perceiving that among men, money could usurp all places--could defeat virtue, command respectdenied to morality and truth, and secure a real worship when the Deitymust be content with shows and symbols--he gradually gave it the chiefplace in his regard. He valued wealth as the instrument of authority. Itsecured him power; a power, however, which he had no care to employ, andwhich he valued only as tributary to the maintenance of that haughtyascendency over men which was his heart's first passion. He was neithermiser nor mercenary; he did not labor to accumulate--perhaps because hewas a lucky accumulator without any painstaking of his own: but he was, by nature an aristocrat, and not unwilling to compel respect through themeans of money, as through any other more noble agency of intellect ormorals. 

There was only one respect in which a likeness between the fortunes ofthe two brothers might be found to exist. After a grateful union of afew years, they had both lost their wives. A single child, in the caseof each, had preserved and hallowed to them the memories of theirmothers. To the younger brother Ralph, a son had been born, soothing thesorrows of the exile, and somewhat compensating his loss. To WilliamColleton, the elder brother, his wife had left a single and very lovelydaughter, the sweet and beautiful Edith, a girl but a few months youngerthan her cousin Ralph. It was the redeeming feature, in the case of thesurviving parents, that they each gave to their motherless children, thewhole of that affection--warm in both cases--which had been enjoyed bythe departed mothers. 

Separated from each other, for years, by several hundred miles ofuncultivated and untravelled forest, the brothers did not often meet;and the bonds of brotherhood waxed feebler and feebler, with the swiftprogress of successive years. Still, they corresponded, and in a toneand temper that seemed to answer for the existence of feelings, whichneither, perhaps, would have been so forward as to assert warmly, ifchallenged to immediate answer. Suddenly, however, when young Ralph wassomewhere about fifteen, his uncle expressed a wish to see him; and, whether through a latent and real affection, or a feeling of self-rebukefor previous neglect, he exacted from his brother a reluctant consentthat the youth should dwell in his family, while receiving his educationin a region then better prepared to bestow it with profit to thestudent. The two young cousins met in Georgia for the first time, and, after a brief summer journey together, in which they frequented the mostfavorite watering places, Ralph was separated from Edith, whom he hadjust begun to love with interest, and despatched to college. 

The separation of the son from the father, however beneficial it mightbe to the former in certain respects of education, proved fatal to thelatter. He had loved the boy even more than he knew; had learned to livemostly in the contemplation of the youth's growth and development; andhis absence preyed upon his heart, adding to his sense of defeat infortune, and the loneliness and waste of his life. The solitude in whichhe dwelt, after the boy's departure, he no longer desired to disturb;and he pined as hopelessly in his absence, as if he no longer had amotive or a hope to prompt exertion. He had anticipated this, in somedegree, when he yielded to his brother's arguments and entreaties; but, conscious of the uses and advantages of education to his son, he feltthe selfishness to be a wrong to the boy, which would deny him thebenefits of that larger civilization, which the uncle promised, on anypretexts. A calm review of his own arguments against the transfer, showed them to be suggested by his own wants. With a manly resolution, therefore, rather to sacrifice his own heart, than deny to his child theadvantages which were held out by his brother, he consented to hisdeparture. The reproach of selfishness, which William Colleton had notspared, brought about his resolve; and with a labored cheerfulness hemade his preparations, and accompanied the youth to Georgia, where hisuncle had agreed to meet him. They parted, with affectionate tears andembraces, never to meet again. A few months only had elapsed when thefather sickened. But he never communicated to his son, or brother, thesecret of his sufferings and grief. Worse, he never sought relief inchange or medicine; but, brooding in the solitude, gnawing his own heartin silence, he gradually pined away, and, in a brief year, he wasgathered to his fathers. He died, like many similarly-tempered natures, of no known disorder!

The boy received the tidings with a burst of grief, which seemed tothreaten his existence. But the sorrows of youth are usuallyshort-lived, particularly in the case of eager, energetic natures. Theexchange of solitude for the crowd; the emulation of college life; thesports and communion of youthful associates--served, after a while, tosoothe the sorrows of Ralph Colleton. Indeed, he found it necessary thathe should bend himself earnestly to his studies, that he might forgethis griefs. And, in a measure he succeeded; at least, he subdued theirmore fond expression, and only grew sedate, instead of passionate. Thebruises of his heart had brought the energies of his mind to their moreactive uses. 

From fifteen to twenty is no very long leap in the history of youth. Wewill make it now, and place the young Ralph--now something older in mindas in body--returned from college, finely formed, intellectual, handsome, vivacious, manly, spirited, and susceptible--as such a personshould be--once again in close intimacy with his beautiful cousin. Theseason which had done so much for him, had been no less liberal withher; and we now survey her, the expanding flower, all bloom andfragrance, a tribute of the spring, flourishing in the bosom of the moreforward summer. 

Ralph came from college to his uncle's domicil, now his only home. Thecircumstances of his father's fate and fortune, continually acting uponhis mind and sensibilities from boyhood, had made his character a markedand singular one--proud, jealous, and sensitive, to an extreme which waspainful not merely to himself, but at times to others. But he was noble, lofty, sincere, without a touch of meanness in his composition, abovecircumlocution, with a simplicity of character strikingly great, butwithout anything like puerility or weakness. 

The children--for such, in reference to their experience, we may ventureto call them--had learned to recognise in the progress of a very briefperiod but a single existence. Ralph looked only for Edith, and carednothing for other sunlight; while Edith, with scarcely less reserve thanher bolder companion, had speech and thought for few besides Ralph. Circumstances contributed not a little to what would appear the naturalgrowth of this mutual dependence. They were perpetually left together, and with few of those tacit and readily understood restraints, unavoidably accompanying the presence of others older than themselves. Residing, save at few brief intervals, at the plantation of ColonelColleton, they saw little and knew less of society; and the worthycolonel, not less ambitious than proud, having become a politician, hadleft them a thousand opportunities of intimacy which had now become sograteful to them both. Half of his time was taken up in public matters. A leader of his party in the section of country in which he lived, hewas always busy in the responsibilities imposed upon him by such astation; and, what with canvassing at election-polls and muster-grounds, and dancing attendance as a silent voter at the halls of the statelegislature, to the membership of which his constituents had returnedhim, he saw but little of his family, and they almost as little of him. His influence grew unimportant with his wards, in proportion as itobtained vigor with his faction--was seldom referred to by them, and, perhaps, if it had been, such was the rapid growth of their affections, would have been but little regarded. He appeared to take it for granted, that, having provided them with all the necessaries called for by life, he had done quite enough for their benefit; and actually gave far lessof his consideration to his own and only child than he did to hisplantation, and the success of a party measure, involving possibly theoffice of doorkeeper to the house, or of tax-collector to the district. The taste for domestic life, which at one period might have been heldwith him exclusive, had been entirely swallowed up and forgotten in hispublic relations; and entirely overlooking the fact, that, in the silentgoings-on of time, the infantile will cease to be so, he never seemed toobserve that the children whom he had brought together but a few yearsbefore might not with reason be considered children any longer. 

Children, indeed! What years had they not lived--what volumes ofexperience in human affections and feelings had the influence and genialwarmth of a Carolina sun not unfolded to their spirits--in the few sweetand uninterrupted seasons of their intercourse. How imperious were thedictates of that nature, to whose immethodical but honest teachings theyhad been almost entirely given up. They lived together, walked together, rode together--read in the same books, conned the same lessons, studiedthe same prospects, saw life through the common medium of mutualassociations; and lived happy only in the sweet unison of emotionsgathered at a common fountain, and equally dear, and equally necessaryto them both. And this is love--they loved!

They loved, but the discovery was yet to be made by them. Living in itspurest luxuries--in the perpetual communion of the only one necessaryobject--having no desire and as little prospect of change--ignorant ofand altogether untutored by the vicissitudes of life--enjoying the sweetassociation which had been the parent of that passion, dependent nowentirely upon its continuance--they had been content, and had nevergiven themselves any concern to analyze its origin, or to find for it aname. A momentary doubt--the presages of a dim perspective--would havetaught them better. Had there been a single moment of discontent intheir lives at this period, they had not remained so long in suchignorance. The fear of its loss can alone teach us the true value of ourtreasure. But the discovery was at hand. 

A pleasant spring afternoon in April found the two young people, Ralphand Edith--the former now twenty years of age, and the latter in thesame neighborhood, half busied, half idle, in the long and spaciouspiazza of the family mansion. They could not be said to have beenemployed, for Edith rarely made much progress with the embroideringneedle and delicate fabric in her hands, while Ralph, something moreabsorbed in a romance of the day, evidently exercised littleconcentration of mind in scanning its contents. He skimmed, at first, rather than studied, the pages before him; conversing occasionally withthe young maiden, who, sitting beside him, occasionally glanced at thevolume in his hand, with something of an air of discontent that itshould take even so much of his regard from herself. As he proceeded, however, in its perusal, the story grew upon him, and he becameunconscious of her occasional efforts to control his attention. Theneedle of Edith seemed also disposed to avail itself of the aberrationsof its mistress, and to rise in rebellion; and, having pricked herfinger more than once in the effort to proceed with her work while hereyes wandered to her companion, she at length threw down the gauzyfabric upon which she had been so partially employed, and hastily risingfrom her seat, passed into the adjoining apartment. 

Her departure was not attended to by her companion, who for a timecontinued his perusal of the book. No great while, however, elapsed, when, rising also from his seat with a hasty exclamation of surprise, hethrew down the volume and followed her into the room where she satpensively meditating over thoughts and feelings as vague and inscrutableto her mind, as they were clear and familiar to her heart. With a degreeof warm impetuosity, even exaggerated beyond his usual manner, whichbore at all times this characteristic, he approached her, and, seizingher hand passionately in his, exclaimed hastily--

"Edith, my sweet Edith, how unhappy that book has made me!"

"How so, Ralph--why should it make you unhappy?"

"It has taught me much, Edith--very much, in the last half hour. It hasspoken of privation and disappointment as the true elements of life, andhas shown me so many pictures of society in such various situations, andwith so much that I feel assured must be correct, that I am unable toresist its impressions. We have been happy--so happy, Edith, and for somany years, that I can not bear to think that either of us should beless so; and yet that volume has taught me, in the story of parallelfortunes with ours, that it may be so. It has given me a long lesson inthe hollow economy of that world which men seek, and name society. Ithas told me that we, or I, at least, may be made and kept miserable forever. "

"How, Ralph, tell me, I pray you--how should that book have taught youthis strange notion? Why? What book is it? That stupid story!" was thegasping exclamation of the astonished girl--astonished no less by theimpetuous manner than the strong language of the youth; and, with thetenderest concern she laid her hand upon his arm, while her eyes, fullof the liveliest interest, yet moistened with a tearful apprehension, were fixed earnestly upon his own. 

"It is a stupid book, a very stupid book--a story of false sentiment, and of mock and artificial feelings, of which I know, and care to know, nothing. But it has told me so much that I feel is true, and that chimesin with my own experience. It has told me much besides, that I am gladto have been taught. Hear me then, dear Edith, and smile not carelesslyat my words, for I have now learned to tremble when I speak, in fearlest I should offend you. "

She would have spoken words of assurance--she would have taught him tothink better of her affections and their strength; but his impetuositychecked her in her speech. 

"I know what you would say, and my heart thanks you for it, as if itsvery life depended upon the utterance. You would tell me to have no suchfear; but the fear is a portion of myself now--it is my heart itself. Hear me then, Edith--_my_ Edith, if you will so let me call you. "

Her hand rested on his assuringly, with a gentle pressure. Hecontinued--

"Hitherto we have lived with each other, only with each other--we haveloved each other, and I have almost only loved you. Neither of us, Edith(may I believe it of you?) has known much of any other affection. Buthow long is this to last? that book--where is it? but no matter--it hastaught me that, now, when a few months will carry us both into theworld, it is improper that our relationship should continue. It says wecan not be the children any longer that we have been--that suchintercourse--I can now perceive why--would be injurious to you. Do youunderstand me?"

The blush of a first consciousness came over the cheek of the maiden, asshe withdrew her hand from his passionate clasp. 

"Ah! I see already, " he exclaimed: "you too have learned the lesson. Andis it thus--and we are to be happy no longer!"

"Ralph!"--she endeavored to speak, but could proceed no further, and herhand was again, silently and without objection, taken into the grasp ofhis. The youth, after a brief pause, resumed, in a tone, which though ithad lost much of its impetuousness, was yet full of stern resolution. 

"Hear me, Edith--but a word--a single word. I love you, believe me, dearEdith, I love you. "

The effect of this declaration was scarcely such as the youth desired. She had been so much accustomed to his warm admiration, indicatedfrequently in phrases such as these, that it had the effect of restoringto her much of her self-possession, of which the nature of the previousdialogue had a little deprived her; and, in the most natural manner inthe world, she replied--perhaps too, we may add, with much of theartlessness of art--

"Why, to be sure you do, Cousin Ralph--it would be something strangeindeed if you did not. I believe you love me, as I am sure you can neverdoubt how much you are beloved by me!"

"_Cousin_ Ralph--_Cousin_ Ralph!" exclaimed the youth with something ofhis former impetuosity, emphasizing ironically as he spoke theunfortunate family epithet--"Ah, Edith, you _will not_ understandme--nor indeed, an hour ago, should I altogether have understood myself. Suddenly, dear Edith, however, as I read certain passages of that book, the thought darted through my brain like lightning, and I saw into myown heart, as I had never been permitted to see into it before. I theresaw how much I loved you--not as my cousin--not as my sister, as yousometimes would have me call you, but as I _will not_ call youagain--but as--as--"

"As what?"

"As my _wife_, Edith--as my own, own wife!"

He clasped her hand in his, while his head sunk, and his lips werepressed upon the taper and trembling fingers which grew cold andpowerless within his grasp. 

What a volume was at that moment opened, for the first time, before thegaze and understanding of the half-affrighted and deep-throbbing heartof that gentle girl. The veil which had concealed its burning mysterieswas torn away in an instant. The key to its secret places was in herhands, and she was bewildered with her own discoveries. Her cheeksalternated between the pale and crimson of doubt and hope. Her lipsquivered convulsively, and an unbidden but not painful suffusionoverspread the warm brilliance of her soft fair cheeks. She strove, ineffectually, to speak; her words came forth in broken murmurs; hervoice had sunk into a sigh; she was dumb. The youth once more took herhand into his, as, speaking with a suppressed tone, and with a measuredslowness which had something in it of extreme melancholy, he brokesilence:--

"And have I no answer, Edith--and must I believe that for either of usthere should be other loves than those of childhood--that new affectionsmay usurp the place of old ones--that there may come a time, dear Edith, when I shall see an arm, not my own, about your waist; and the eyes thatwould look on no prospect if you were not a part of it, may be doomed tothat fearfullest blight of beholding your lips smiling and pressedbeneath the lips of another?"

"Never, oh never, Ralph! Speak no more, I beseech you, in such language. You do me wrong in this--I have no such wish, no such thought orpurpose. I do not--I could not--think of another, Ralph. I will beyours, and yours only--if you really wish it. "

"If I wish! Ah! dear Edith, you are mine, and I am yours! The worldshall not pass between us. "

She murmured--

"Yours, Ralph, yours only!"

He caught her in his passionate embrace, even as the words were murmuredfrom her lips. Her head settled upon his shoulder; her light brown hair, loosened from the comb, fell over it in silky masses. Her eyes closed, his arms still encircled her, and the whole world was forgotten in amoment;--when the door opened, and a third party entered the room in theperson of Colonel Colleton. 

Here was a catastrophe!

CHAPTER IV. 

A RUPTURE--THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE. 

Colonel Colleton stood confounded at the spectacle before him. Filledwith public affairs, or rather, with his own affairs in the public eye, he had grown totally heedless of ordinary events, household interests, and of the rapid growth and development of those passions in youth whichripen quite as fervently and soon in the shade as in the sun. Thesechildren--how should they have grown to such a stature! His daughter, atthis moment, seemed taller than he had ever seen her before! andRalph!--as the uncle's eyes were riveted upon the youth, he certainlygrew more than ever erect and imposing of look and stature. The firstglance which he gave to the scene, did not please the young man. Therewas something about the expression of the uncle's face, which seemed tothe nephew to be as supercilious, as it certainly was angry. Proud, jealous of his sensibilities, the soul of the youth rose in arms, at thelook which annoyed him. That Edith's father should ever disapprove ofhis passion for his cousin, never once entered the young man's brain. Hehad not, indeed, once thought upon the matter. He held it to be a thingof course that the father would welcome a union which promised tostrengthen the family bond, and maintain the family name and blood inperpetuity. When, therefore, he beheld, in his uncle's face, such anexpression of scorn mixed with indignation, he resented it with thefervor of his whole soul. He was bewildered, it is true, but he was alsochafed, and it needed that he should turn his eyes to the sweet cause ofhis offence, before he could find himself relieved of the painfulfeelings which her father's look and manner had occasioned him. 

Poor Edith had a keener sense of the nature of the case. Her instinctsmore readily supplied the means of knowledge. Besides, there werecertain family matters, which the look of her father suddenlyrecalled--which had never been suffered to reach the ears of hercousin;--which indicated to her, however imperfectly, the possible causeof that severe and scornful expression of eye, in the uncle, which hadso confounded the nephew. She looked, with timid pleading to herfather's face, but dared not speak. 

And still the latter stood at the entrance, silent, sternly scanning theyoung offenders, just beginning to be conscious of offence. A surpriseof any kind is exceedingly paralyzing to young lovers, caught in asituation like that in which our luckless couple were found on thisoccasion. It is probable, that, but for this, Ralph Colleton wouldscarcely have borne so meekly the severe look which the father nowbestowed upon his daughter. 

Though not the person to trouble himself much at any time in relation tohis child, Colonel Colleton had never once treated her unkindly. Thoughsometimes neglectful, he had never shown himself stern. The look whichhe now gave her was new to all her experience. The poor girl began toconceive much more seriously of her offence than ever;--it seemed tospread out unimaginably far, and to involve a thousand violations ofdivine and human law. She could only look pleadingly, without speech, toher father. His finger silently pointed her to withdraw. 

"Oh, father!"--the exclamation was barely murmured. 

"Go!" was the sole answer, with the finger still uplift. 

In silence, she glided away; not, however, without stealing a fond andassuring glance at her lover. 

Her departure was the signal for that issue between the two remainingparties for which each was preparing in his own fashion. Ralph had notbeheld the dumb show, in which Edith was dismissed, without a risingimpulse of choler. The manner of the thing had been particularlyoffensive to him. But the father of Edith, whatever his offence, hadsuddenly risen into new consideration in the young man's mind, from themoment that he fully comprehended his feelings for the daughter. He wasaccordingly, somewhat disposed to temporize, though there was still alurking desire in his mind, to demand an explanation of thosesupercilious glances which had so offended him. 

But the meditations of neither party consumed one twentieth part of thetime that we have taken in hinting what they were. With the departure ofEdith, and the closing of the door after her, Colonel Colleton, with allhis storms, approached to the attack. The expression of scorn upon hisface had given way to one of anger wholly. His glance seemed meant topenetrate the bosom of the youth with a mortal stab--it was hate, ratherthan anger, that he looked. Yet it was evident that he made an effort tosubdue his wrath--its full utterance at least--but he could not chasethe terrible cloud from his haughty brow. 

The youth, getting chafed beneath his gaze, returned him look for look, and his brows grew dark and lowering also; and, for anger, they gaveback defiance. This silent, but expressive dialogue, was the work of asingle moment of time. The uncle broke the silence. 

"What am I to understand from this, young man?"

"Young man, sir!--I feel it very difficult to understand you, uncle! Inrespect to Edith and myself, sir, I have but to say that we havediscovered that we are something more than cousins to each other!"

"Indeed! And how long is it, I pray, since you have made thisdiscovery?"

This was said with a dry tone, and hard, contemptuous manner. The youthstrove honestly to keep down his blood. 

"Within the hour, sir! Not that we have not always felt that we lovedeach other, uncle; only, that, up to this time, we had never beenconscious of the true nature of our feelings. "

The youth replied with the most provoking simplicity. The uncle wasannoyed. He would rather that Ralph should have relieved him, by aconjecture of his own, from the necessity of hinting to him that suchextreme sympathies, between the parties, were by no means a matter ofcourse. But the nephew would not, or could not, see; and his surprise, at the uncle's course, was perpetually looking for explanation. Itbecame necessary to speak plainly. 

"And with what reason, Ralph Colleton, do you suppose that I willsanction an alliance between you and my daughter? Upon what, I pray you, do you ground your pretensions to the hand of Edith Colleton?"

Such was the haughty interrogation. Ralph was confounded. 

"My pretensions, sir?--The hand of Edith!--Do I hear you right, uncle?Do you really mean what you say?"

"My words are as I have said them. They are sufficiently explicit. Youneed not misunderstand them. What, I ask, are your pretensions to thehand of my daughter, and how is it that you have so far forgottenyourself as thus to abuse my confidence, stealing into the affections ofmy child?"

"Uncle, I have abused no confidence, and will not submit to any chargethat would dishonor me. What I have done has been done openly, beforeall eyes, and without resort to cunning or contrivance. I must do myselfthe justice to believe that you knew all this without the necessity ofmy speech, and even while your lips spoke the contrary. "

"You are bold, Ralph, and seem to have forgotten that you are yet but amere boy. You forget your years and mine. "

"No, sir--pardon me when I so speak--but it is you who have forgottenthem. Was it well to speak as you have spoken?" proudly replied theyouth. 

"Ralph, you have forgotten much, or have yet to be taught many things. You may not have violated confidence, but--"

"I _have not_ violated confidence!" was the abrupt and somewhatimpetuous response, "and will not have it spoken of in that manner. Itis not true that I have abused any trust, and the assertion which I makeshall not therefore be understood as a mere possibility. "

The uncle was something astounded by the almost fierce manner of hisnephew; but the only other effect of this expression was simply, whileit diminished his own testiness of manner in his speeches, to addsomething to the severity of their character. He knew the indomitablespirit of the youth, and his pride was enlisted in the desire for itsoverthrow. 

"You are yet to learn, Ralph Colleton, I perceive, the difference anddistance between yourself and my daughter. You are but a youth, yet--quite too young to think of such ties as those of marriage, and tomake any lasting engagement of that nature; but, even were this not thecase, I am entirely ignorant of those pretensions which should promptyour claim to the hand of Edith. "

Had Colonel Colleton been a prudent and reflective man--had he, indeed, known much, if anything, of human nature--he would have withheld thelatter part of this sentence. He must have seen that its effect wouldonly be to irritate a spirit needing an emollient. The reply wasinstantaneous. 

"My pretensions, Colonel Colleton? You have twice uttered that word inmy ears, and with reference to this subject. Let me understand you. Ifyou would teach me by this sentence the immeasurable individualsuperiority of Edith over myself in all things, whether of mind, orheart, or person, the lesson is gratuitous. I need no teacher to thisend. I acknowledge its truth, and none on this point can more perfectlyagree with you than myself. But if, looking beyond these particulars, you would have me recognize in myself an inferiority, marked andsingular, in a fair comparison with other men--if, in short, you wouldconvey an indignity; and--but you are my father's brother, sir!" and theblood mounted to his forehead, and his heart swelling, the youth turnedproudly away, and rested his head upon the mantel. 

"Not so, Ralph; you are hasty in your thought, not less than in itsexpression, " said his uncle, soothingly, "I meant not what you think. But you must be aware, nephew, that my daughter, not less from thefortune which will be exclusively hers, and her individualaccomplishments, than from the leading political station which herfather fills, will be enabled to have a choice in the adoption of asuitor, which this childish passion might defeat. "

"Mine is no childish passion, sir; though young, my mind is not apt tovary in its tendencies; and, unlike that of the mere politician, haslittle of inconsistency in its predilections with which to rebukeitself. But, I understand you. You have spoken of her fortune, and thatreminds me that I had a father, not less worthy, I am sure--not lessgenerous, I feel--but certainly far less prudent than hers. I understandyou, sir, perfectly. "

"If you mean, Ralph, by this sarcasm, that my considerations are thoseof wealth, you mistake me much. The man who seeks my daughter must notlook for a sacrifice; she must win a husband who has a name, a highplace--who has a standing in society. Your tutors, indeed, speak of youin fair terms; but the public voice is everything in our country. Whenyou have got through your law studies, and made your first speech, wewill talk once more upon this subject. "

"And when I have obtained admission to the practice of the law, do yousay that Edith shall be mine?"

"Nay, Ralph, you again mistake me. I only say, it will be then timeenough to consider the matter. "

"Uncle, this will not do for me. Either you sanction, or you do not. Youmean something by that word _pretensions_ which I am yet to understand;my name is Colleton, like your own, and--"

There was a stern resolve in the countenance of the colonel, which spokeof something of the same temper with his impetuous nephew, and the cooland haughty sentence which fell from his lips in reply, while arrestingthat of the youth, was galling to the proud spirit of the latter, whomit chafed nearly into madness. 

"Why, true, Ralph, such is your name indeed; and your reference to thissubject now, only reminds me of the too free use which my brother madeof it when he bestowed it upon a woman so far beneath him and his familyin all possible respects. "

"There again, sir, there again! It is my mother's poverty that painsyou. She brought my father no dowry. He had nothing of that choiceprudence which seems to have been the guide of others, of our family inthe bestowment of their affections. He did not calculate the value ofhis wife's income before he suffered himself to become enamored of her. I see it, sir--I am not ignorant. "

"If I speak with you calmly, Ralph, it is because you are the indwellerof my house, and because I have a pledge to my brother in your behalf. "

"Speak freely, sir; let not this scruple trouble you any longer. Itshall not trouble me; and I shall be careful to take early occasion torelease you most effectually from all such pledges. "

Colonel Colleton proceeded as if the last speech had not been uttered. 

"Edith has a claim in society which shall not be sacrificed. Her father, Ralph, did not descend to the hovel of the miserable peasant, choosing awife from the inferior grade, who, without education, and ignorant ofall refinement, could only appear a blot upon the station to which shehad been raised. Her mother, sir, was not a woman obscure anduneducated, for whom no parents could be found. "

"What means all this, sir? Speak, relieve me at once, Colonel Colleton. What know you of my mother?"

"Nothing--but quite as much as your father ever knew. It is sufficientthat he found her in a hovel, without a name, and with the silly romanceof his character through life, he raised her to a position in societywhich she could not fill to his honor, and which, finally, working uponhis pride and sensibility drove him into those extravagances which inthe end produced his ruin. I grant that she loved him with a mostperfect devotion, which he too warmly returned, but what of that?--shewas still his destroyer. "

Thus sternly did the colonel unveil to the eyes of Ralph Colleton aportion of the family picture which he had never been permitted tosurvey before. 

Cold drops stood on the brow of the now nerveless and unhappy youth. Hewas pale, and his eyes were fixed for an instant; but, suddenlyrecovering himself, he rushed hastily from the apartment before hisuncle could interpose to prevent him. He heard not or heeded not thewords of entreaty which called him back; but, proceeding at once to hischamber, he carefully fastened the entrance, and, throwing himself uponhis couch, found relief from the deep mental agony thus suddenly forcedupon him, in a flood of tears. 

For the first time in his life, deriving his feeling in this particularrather from the opinions of society than from any individualconsciousness of debasement, he felt a sentiment of humiliation workingin his breast. His mother he had little known, but his father's preceptsand familiar conversation had impressed upon him, from his childhood, afeeling for her of the deepest and most unqualified regard. This feelingwas not lessened, though rebuked, by the development so unnecessarilyand so wantonly conveyed. It taught a new feeling of distrust for hisuncle, whose harsh manner and ungenerous insinuations in the progress ofthe preceding half-hour, had lost him not a little of the youth'sesteem. He felt that the motive of his informer was not less unkind thanwas the information painful and oppressive; and his mind, now more thanever excited and active from this thought, went on discussing, frompoint to point, all existing relations, until a stern resolve to leave, that very night, the dwelling of one whose hospitality had been made amatter of special reference, was the only and settled conclusion towhich his pride could possibly come. 

The servant reminded him of the supper-hour, but the summons was utterlydisregarded. The colonel himself condescended to notify the stubbornyouth of the same important fact, but with almost as little effect. Without opening his door, he signified his indisposition to join in theusual repast, and thus closed the conference. 

"I meet him at the table no more--not at his table, at least, " was themuttered speech of Ralph, as he heard the receding footsteps of hisuncle. 

He had determined, though without any distinct object in view, uponleaving the house and returning to Tennessee, where he had hithertoresided. His excited spirits would suffer no delay, and that very nightwas the period chosen for his departure. Few preparations werenecessary. With a fine horse of his own, the gift of his father, he knewthat the course lay open. The long route he had more than once travelledbefore; and he had no fears, though he well knew the desolate characterof the journey, in pursuing it alone. Apart from this, he lovedadventure for its own sake. The first lesson which his father had taughthim, even in boyhood, was that braving of trial which alone can bringabout the most perfect manliness. With a stout heart, and with limbs notless so, the difficulties before him had no thought in his mind; therewas buoyancy enough in the excitement of his spirit, at that moment, togive even a pleasurable aspect to the obstacles that rose before him. 

At an early hour he commenced the work of preparation: he had littletrouble in this respect. He studiously selected from his wardrobe suchportions of it as had been the gift of his uncle, all of which hecarefully excluded from among the contents of the little portmanteauwhich readily comprised the residue. His travelling-dress was quicklyadjusted; and not omitting a fine pair of pistols and a dirk, which, atthat period, were held in the south and southwest legitimate companions, he found few other cares for arrangement. One token alone of Edith--asmall miniature linked with his own, taken a few seasons before, whenboth were children, by a strolling artist--suspended by a chain of therichest gold, was carefully hung about his neck. It grew in value, tohis mind, at a moment when he was about to separate, perhaps for ever, from its sweet original. 

At midnight, when all was silent--his portmanteau under his arm--booted, spurred, and ready for travel--Ralph descended to the lower story, inwhich slept the chief servant of the house. Cæsar was a favorite withthe youth, and he had no difficulty in making himself understood. Theworthy black was thunderstruck with his determination. 

"Ky! Mass Ralph, how you talk! what for you go dis time o'night? Whatfor you go 'tall?"

The youth satisfied him, in a manner as evasive and brief as possible, and urged him in the preparation of his steed for the journey. But theworthy negro absolutely refused to sanction the proceeding unless hewere permitted to go along with him. He used not a few strong argumentsfor this purpose. 

"And what we all for do here, when you leff? 'speck ebbery ting be dull, wuss nor ditch-water. No more fun--no more shuffle-foot. Old maussa nolike de fiddle, and nebber hab party and jollication like udder people. Don't tink I can stay here, Mass Ra'ph, after you gone; 'spose, you no'jection, I go 'long wid you? You leff me, I take to de swamp, sure as agun. "

"No, Cæsar, you are not mine; you belong to your young mistress. Youmust stay and wait upon her. "

"Ha!" was the quick response of the black, with a significant smirk uponhis lip, and with a cunning emphasis; "enty I see; wha' for I hab eye efI no see wid em? I 'speck young misses hab no 'jection for go too--eh, Mass Ra'ph! all you hab for do is for ax em!"

The eye of the youth danced with a playful light, as if a new thought, and not a disagreeable one, had suddenly broken in upon his brain; butthe expression lasted but for an instant He overruled all the hopes andwishes of the sturdy black, who, at length, with a manner the mostdesponding, proceeded to the performance of the required duty. A fewmoments sufficed, and with a single look to the window of his mistress, which spoke unseen volumes of love, leaving an explanatory letter forthe perusal of father and daughter, though addressed only to thelatter--he gave the rough hand of his sable friend a cordial pressure, and was soon hidden from sight by the thickly-spreading foliage of thelong avenue. The reader has been already apprized that the youth, whoseescape in a preceding chapter we have already narrated, and RalphColleton, are one and the same person. 

He had set forth, as we have seen, under the excitation of feelingsstrictly natural; but which, subtracting from the strong common sensebelonging to his character, had led him prematurely into an adventure, having no distinct purposes, and promising largely of difficulty. Whatwere his thoughts of the future, what his designs, we are not preparedto say. His character was of a firm and independent kind; and theprobability is, that, looking to the profession of the law, in the studyof which noble science his mind had been for some time occupied, he hadcontemplated its future practice in those portions of Tennessee in whichhis father had been known, and where he himself had passed some verypleasant years of his own life. With economy, a moderate talent, andhabits of industry, he was well aware that, in those regions, the meansof life are with little difficulty attainable by those who are worthyand will adventure. Let us now return to the wayfarer, whom we have leftin that wildest region of the then little-settled state ofGeorgia--doubly wild as forming the debatable land between the savageand the civilized--partaking of the ferocity of the one and the skill, cunning, and cupidity of the other. 

CHAPTER V. 

MARK FORRESTER--THE GOLD VILLAGE. 

There were moments when Ralph Colleton, as he lay bruised and woundedupon the sward, in those wild woods, and beneath the cool canopy ofheaven, was conscious of his situation, of its exposure and itsperils--moments, when he strove to recover himself--to shake off thestupor which seemed to fetter his limbs as effectually as it paralyzedhis thoughts;--and the renewed exercise of his mental energies, broughtabout, and for a little while sustained, an increased consciousness, which perhaps rather added to his pain. It taught him his own weakness, when he strove vainly to support himself against the tree to which hehad crawled; and in despair, the acuteness of which was only relieved bythe friendly stupor which came to his aid, arising from the loss ofblood, he closed his eyes, and muttering a brief sentence, which mighthave been a prayer, he resigned himself to his fate. 

But he was not thus destined to perish. He had not lain many minutes inthis situation when the tones of a strong voice rang through the forest. There was a whoop and halloo, and then a catch of a song, and then ashrill whistle, all strangely mingled together, finally settling downinto a rude strain, which, coming from stentorian lungs, found a readyecho in every jutting rock and space of wood for a mile round. Themusician went on merrily from verse to verse of his forest minstrelsy ashe continued to approach; describing in his strain, with a readyballad-facility, the numberless pleasures to be found in the life of thewoodman. Uncouthly, and in a style partaking rather more of the savagethan the civilized taste and temper, it enumerated the distinct featuresof each mode of life with much ingenuity and in stanzas smartlyepigrammatic, did not hesitate to assign the preference to the former. 

As the new-comer approached the spot where Ralph Colleton lay, there wasstill a partial though dim light over the forest. The twilight wasrichly clear, and there were some faint yellow lines of the sun's lastglances lingering still on the remote horizon. The moon, too, in theopposite sky, about to come forth, had sent before her some few faintharbingers of her approach; and it was not difficult for the sturdywoodman to discern the body of the traveller, lying, as it did, almostin his path. A few paces farther on stood his steed, cropping the younggrass, and occasionally, with uplifted head, looking round withsomething like human wonderment, for the assertion of that authoritywhich heretofore had him in charge. At the approach of the stranger hedid not start, but, seeming conscious of some change for the better inhis own prospects, he fell again to work upon the herbage as if nointerruption had occurred to his repast. 

The song of the woodman ceased as he discovered the body. With anexclamation, he stooped down to examine it, and his hands were suffusedwith the blood which had found its way through the garments. He saw thatlife was not extinct, and readily supposing the stupor the consequenceof loss of blood rather than of vital injury, he paused a few moments asin seeming meditation, then turning from the master to his unreluctantsteed, he threw himself upon his back, and was quickly out of sight. Hesoon returned, bringing with him a wagon and team, such as all farmerspossess in that region, and lifting the inanimate form into the rudevehicle with a tender caution that indicated a true humanity, walkingslowly beside the horses, and carefully avoiding all such obstructionsin the road, as by disordering the motion would have given pain to thesufferer, he carried him safely, and after the delay of a few hours, into the frontier, and then almost unknown, village of Chestatee. 

It was well for the youth that he had fallen into such hands. There werefew persons in that part of the world like Mark Forrester. A betterheart, or more honorable spirit, lived not; and in spite of an erringand neglected education--of evil associations, and sometimes evilpursuits--he was still a worthy specimen of manhood. We may as well heredescribe him, as he appears to us; for at this period the youth wasstill insensible--unconscious of his deliverance as he was of hisdeliverer. 

Mark Forrester was a stout, strongly-built, yet active person, some sixfeet in height, square and broad-shouldered--exhibiting an outline, wanting, perhaps, in some of the more rounded graces of form, yet at thesame time far from symmetrical deficiency. There was, also, not a littleof ease and agility, together with a rude gracefulness in his action, the result equally of the well-combined organization of his animal manand of the hardy habits of his woodland life. His appearance wasyouthful, and the passing glance would perhaps have rated him at littlemore than six or seven-and-twenty. His broad, full chest, heavingstrongly with a consciousness of might--together with the generallyathletic muscularity of his whole person--indicated correctly thepossession of prodigious strength. His face was finely southern. Hisfeatures were frank and fearless--moderately intelligent, and wellmarked--the _tout ensemble_ showing an active vitality, strong, andusually just feelings, and a good-natured freedom of character, whichenlisted confidence, and seemed likely to acknowledge few restraints ofa merely conventional kind. Nor, in any of these particulars, did theoutward falsely interpret the inward man. With the possession of agiant's powers, he was seldom so far borne forward by his impulses, whether of pride or of passion, as to permit of their wanton or improperuse. His eye, too, had a not unpleasing twinkle, promising more ofgood-fellowship and a heart at ease than may ever consort with thejaundiced or distempered spirit. His garb indicated, in part, and waswell adapted to the pursuits of the hunter and the labors of thewoodman. We couple these employments together, for, in the wildernessesof North America, the dense forests, and broad prairies, they areutterly inseparable. In a belt, made of buckskin, which encircled hismiddle, was stuck, in a sheath of the same material, a small axe, suchas, among the Indians, was well known to the early settlers as a deadlyimplement of war. The head of this instrument, or that portion of itopposite the blade, and made in weight to correspond with and balancethe latter when hurled from the hand, was a pick of solid steel, narrowing down to a point, and calculated, with a like blow, to proveeven more fatal, as a weapon in conflict, than the more legitimatemember to which it was appended. A thong of ox-hide, slung over hisshoulder, supported easily a light rifle of the choicest bore; for thereare few matters indeed upon which the wayfarer in the southern wildsexercises a nicer and more discriminating taste than in the selection ofa companion, in a pursuit like his, of the very last importance; andwhich, in time, he learns to love with a passion almost comparable tohis love of woman. The dress of the woodman was composed of a coarsegray stuff, of a make sufficiently _outré_, but which, fitting himsnugly, served to set off his robust and well-made person to the utmostadvantage. A fox-skin cap, of domestic manufacture, the tail of which, studiously preserved, obviated any necessity for a foreign tassel, rested slightly upon his head, giving a unique finish to his appearance, which a fashionable hat would never have supplied. Such was thepersonage, who, so fortunately for Ralph, plied his craft in that lonelyregion; and who, stumbling upon his insensible form at nightfall, asalready narrated, carefully conveyed him to his own lodgings at thevillage-inn of Chestatee. 

The village, or town--for such it was in the acceptation of the time andcountry--may well deserve some little description; not for its intrinsicimportance, but because it will be found to resemble some ten out ofevery dozen of the country towns in all the corresponding region. Itconsisted of thirty or forty dwellings, chiefly of logs; not, however, so immediately in the vicinity of one another as to give any verydecided air of regularity and order to their appearance. As usual, inall the interior settlements of the South and West, wherever an eligiblesituation presented itself, the squatter laid the foundation-logs of hisdwelling, and proceeded to its erection. No public squares, and streetslaid out by line and rule, marked conventional progress in an orderlyand methodical society; but, regarding individual convenience as theonly object in arrangements of this nature, they took little note of anyother, and to them less important matters. They built where the landrose into a ridge of moderate and gradual elevation, commanding a longreach of prospect; where a good spring threw out its crystal waters, jetting, in winter and summer alike, from the hillside or the rock; or, in its absence, where a fair branch, trickling over a bed of small andyellow pebbles, kept up a perpetually clear and undiminishing current;where the groves were thick and umbrageous; and lastly, but not lessimportant than either, where agues and fevers came not, bringing cloudsover the warm sunshine, and taking all the hue, and beauty, and odorfrom the flower. Those considerations were at all times the mostimportant to the settler when the place of his abode was to bedetermined upon; and, with these advantages at large, the company ofsquatters, of whom Mark Forrester, made one, by no means the leastimportant among them, had regularly, for the purposes of gold-digging, colonized the little precinct into which we have now ventured topenetrate. 

Before we advance farther in our narrative, it may be quite as well tosay, that the adventurers of which this wild congregation was made upwere impelled to their present common centre by motives and influencesas various as the differing features of their several countenances. Theycame, not only from parts of the surrounding country, but many of themfrom all parts of the surrounding world; oddly and confusedly jumbledtogether; the very _olla-podrida_ of moral and mental combination. Theywere chiefly those to whom the ordinary operations of human trade orlabor had proved tedious or unproductive--with whom the toils, aims, andimpulses of society were deficient of interest; or, upon whom, aninordinate desire of a sudden to acquire wealth had exercised asufficiently active influence to impel to the novel employment ofgold-finding--or rather gold-_seeking_, for it was not always that thesearch was successful--the very name of such a pursuit carrying with itto many no small degree of charm and persuasion. To these, a wholesomeassortment of other descriptions may be added, of character and castesuch as will be found ordinarily to compose everywhere the frontier andoutskirts of civilization, as rejected by the wholesome current, anddriven, like the refuse and the scum of the waters, in confusedstagnation to their banks and margin. Here, alike, came the spendthriftand the indolent, the dreamer and the outlaw, congregating, thoughguided by contradictory impulses, in the formation of a common caste, and the pursuit of a like object--some with the view to profit and gain;others, simply from no alternative being left them; and that ofgold-seeking, with a better sense than their neighbors, being in theirown contemplation, truly, a _dernier_ resort. 

The reader can better conceive than we describe, the sorts of people, passions, and pursuits, herding thus confusedly together; and with thesevarious objects. Others, indeed, came into the society, like the rudebut honest woodman to whom we have already afforded an introduction, almost purely from a spirit of adventure, that, growing impatient of theconfined boundaries of its birthplace, longs to tread new regions andenjoy new pleasures and employments. A spirit, we may add, the same, ornot materially differing from that, which, at an earlier period of humanhistory, though in a condition of society not dissimilar, begot thepractices denominated, by a most licentious courtesy, those of chivalry. 

But, of whatever stuff the _morale_ of this people may have been madeup, it is not less certain than natural that the mixture was stillincoherent--the parts had not yet grown together. Though ostensibly inthe pursuit of the same interest and craft, they had anything but a likefortune, and the degree of concert and harmony which subsisted betweenthem was but shadowy and partial. A mass so heterogeneous in its originand tendency might not so readily amalgamate. Strife, discontent, andcontention, were not unfrequent; and the laborers at the sameinstrument, mutually depending on each other, not uncommonly came toblows over it. The successes of any one individual--for, as yet, theirlabors were unregulated by arrangement, and each worked on his ownscore--procured for him the hate and envy of some of the company, whileit aroused the ill-disguised dissatisfaction of all; and nothing was ofmore common occurrence, than, when striking upon a fruitful andproductive section, even among those interested in the discovery, tofind it a disputed dominion. Copartners no longer, a division of thespoils, when accumulated, was usually terminated by a resort to blows;and the bold spirit and the strong hand, in this way, not uncommonlyacquired the share for which the proprietor was too indolent to toil inthe manner of his companions. 

The issue of these conflicts, as may be imagined, was sometimes woundsand bloodshed, and occasionally death: the field, we need scarcelyadd--since this is the history of all usurpation--remaining, in everysuch case, in possession of the party proving itself most courageous orstrong. Nor need this history surprise--it is history, veracious andsober history of a period, still within recollection, and of events ofalmost recent occurrence. The wild condition of the country--the absenceof all civil authority, and almost of laws, certainly of officerssufficiently daring to undertake their honest administration, andshrinking from the risk of incurring, in the performance of theirduties, the vengeance of those, who, though disagreeing amongthemselves, at all times made common cause against the ministers ofjustice as against a common enemy--may readily account for the frequencyand impunity with which these desperate men committed crime and defiedits consequences. 

But we are now fairly in the centre of the village--a fact of which, inthe case of most southern and western villages, it is necessary in somany words to apprize the traveller. In those parts, the scale by whichtowns are laid out is always magnificent. The founders seem to havecalculated usually upon a population of millions; and upon spots andsporting-grounds, measurable by the olympic coursers, and the ancientfields of combat, when scythes and elephants and chariots made thewarriors, and the confused cries of a yelping multitude composed theconflict itself. There was no want of room, no risk of narrow streetsand pavements, no deficiency of area in the formation of public squares. The houses scattered around the traveller, dotting at long andinfrequent intervals the ragged wood which enveloped them, left fewstirring apprehensions of their firing one another. The forest, wherethe land was not actually built upon, stood up in its primitivesimplicity undishonored by the axe. 

Such was the condition of the settlement at the period when our hero sounconsciously entered it. It was night, and the lamps of the villagewere all in full blaze, illuminating with an effect the most picturesqueand attractive the fifty paces immediately encircling them. Eachdwelling boasted of this auxiliary and attraction; and in thisparticular but few cities afford so abundantly the materials for a blazeas our country villages. Three or four slight posts are erected atconvenient distances from each other in front of the building--a broadscaffold, sufficiently large for the purpose, is placed upon them, onwhich a thick coat of clay is plastered; at evening, a pile is builtupon this, of dry timber and the rich pine which overruns and mainlymarks the forests of the south. These piles, in a blaze, serve thenightly strollers of the settlement as guides and beacons, and withtheir aid Forrester safely wound his way into the little village ofChestatee. 

Forming a square in the very centre of the town, a cluster of four hugefabrics, in some sort sustained the pretensions of the settlement tothis epithet. This ostentatious collection, some of the members of whichappeared placed there rather for show than service, consisted of thecourthouse, the jail, the tavern, and the shop of the blacksmith--thetwo last-mentioned being at all times the very first in course oferection, and the essential nucleus in the formation of the southern andwestern settlement. The courthouse and the jail, standing directlyopposite each other, carried in their faces a family outline ofsympathetic and sober gravity. There had been some effect at pretensionin their construction, both being cumbrously large, awkward, andunwieldy; and occupying, as they did, the only portion of the villagewhich had been stripped of its forest covering, bore an aspect of mutualand ludicrous wildness and vacancy. They had both been built upon a likeplan and equal scale; and the only difference existing between them, butone that was immediately perceptible to the eye, was the superfluousabundance of windows in the former, and their deficiency in the latter. A moral agency had most probably prompted the architect to thedistinction here hit upon--and he felt, doubtless, in admitting freeaccess to the light in the house of justice, and in excluding it almostentirely from that of punishment, that he had recognised the proprietiesof a most excellent taste and true judgment. These apertures, clumsilywrought in the logs of which the buildings were made, added still moreto their generally uncouth appearance. There was yet, however, anothermarked difference between the courthouse and jail, which we should notomit to notice. The former had the advantage of its neighbor, in beingsurmounted by a small tower or cupola, in which a bell of moderate sizehung suspended, permitted to speak only on such important occasions asthe opening of court, sabbath service, and the respective anniversariesof the birthday of Washington and the Declaration of Independence. Thisbuilding, thus distinguished above its fellows, served also all thepurposes of a place of worship, whenever some wandering preacher foundhis way into the settlement; an occurrence, at the time we write, ofvery occasional character. To each of the four vast walls of the jail, in a taste certainly not bad, if we consider the design and character ofthe fabric, but a single window was allotted--that too of the verysmallest description for human uses, and crossed at right angles withrude and slender bars of iron, the choicest specimens of workmanshipfrom the neighboring smithy. The distance between each of these fourequally important buildings was by no means inconsiderable, if we arerequired to make the scale for our estimate, that of the cramped anddiminished limits accorded to like places in the cities, where men andwomen appear to increase in due proportion as the field lessens uponwhich they must encounter in the great struggle for existence. Thoughneighbors in every substantial respect, the four fabrics were mostuncharitably remote, and stood frowning gloomily at oneanother--scarcely relieved of the cheerless and sombre character oftheir rough outsides, even when thus brightly illuminated by the glarethrown upon them by the several blazes, flashing out upon the scene fromthe twin lamps in front of the tavern, through whose wide and unsashedwindows an additional lustre, as of many lights, gave warm indicationsof life and good lodgings within. At a point equidistant from, andforming one of the angles of the same square with each of these, thebroader glare from the smith's furnace streamed in bright lines acrossthe plain between, pouring through the unclayed logs of the hovel, inwhich, at his craft, the industrious proprietor was even then busilyemployed. Occasionally, the sharp click of his hammer, ringing upon andresounding from the anvil, and a full blast from the capacious bellows, indicated the busy animation, if not the sweet concert, the habitualcheerfulness and charm, of a more civilized and better regulatedsociety. 

Nor was the smith, at the moment of our entrance, the only noisy memberof the little village. The more pretending establishment to which we arerapidly approaching, threw out its clamors, and the din of many voicesgathered upon the breeze in wild and incoherent confusion. Deep burstsof laughter, and the broken stanza of an occasional catch roared out atintervals, promised something of relief to the dull mood; while, as thesounds grew more distinct, the quick ear of Forrester was enabled todistinguish the voices of the several revellers. 

"There they are, in full blast, " he muttered, "over a gallon of whiskey, and gulping it down as if 'twas nothing better than common water. But, what's the great fuss to-night? There's a crowd, I reckon, and they're arunning their rigs on somebody. "

Even Forrester was at a loss to account for their excess of hilarityto-night. Though fond of drink, and meeting often in a crowd, they werefew of them of a class--using his own phrase--"to give so much tongueover their liquors. " The old toper and vagabond is usually a silentdrinker. His amusements, when in a circle, and with a bottle before him, are found in cards and dice. His cares, at such a period, are tooconsiderate to suffer him to be noisy. Here, in Chestatee, Forresterwell knew that a crowd implied little good-fellowship. The ties whichbrought the gold-seekers and squatters together were not of a sort toproduce cheerfulness and merriment. Their very sports were savage, andimplied a sort of fun which commonly gave pain to somebody. He wondered, accordingly, as he listened to yells of laughter, and discordant shoutsof hilarity; and he grew curious about the occasion of uproar. 

"They're poking fun at some poor devil, that don't quite see whatthey're after. "

A nearer approach soon gave him a clue to the mystery; but all hisfarther speculations upon it were arrested, by a deep groan from thewounded man, and a writhing movement in the bottom of the wagon, as thewheel rolled over a little pile of stones in the road. 

Forrester's humanity checked his curiosity. He stooped to the sufferer, composed his limbs upon the straw, and, as the vehicle, by this time, had approached the tavern, he ordered the wagoner to drive to the rearof the building, that the wounded man might lose, as much as possible, the sounds of clamor which steadily rose from the hall in front. Whenthe wagon stopped, he procured proper help, and, with the tenderestcare, assisted to bear our unconscious traveller from the vehicle, intothe upper story of the house, where he gave him his own bed, left him incharge of an old negro, and hurried away in search of that mostimportant person of the place, the village-doctor. 

CHAPTER VI. 

CODE AND PRACTICE OF THE REGULATORS. 

Forrester was fleet of foot, and the village-doctor not far distant. Hewas soon procured, and, prompt of practice, the hurts of Ralph Colletonwere found to be easily medicable. The wound was slight, the graze of abullet only, cutting some smaller blood-vessels, and it was only fromthe loss of blood that insensibility had followed. The moderate skill ofour country-surgeon was quite equal to the case, and soon enabled him toput the mind of Mark Forrester, who was honestly and humanely anxious, at perfect rest on the subject of his unknown charge. With the dressingof his wound, and the application of restoratives, the consciousness ofthe youth returned, and he was enabled to learn how he had beendiscovered, where he was, and to whom he was indebted for succor in themoment of his insensibility. 

Ralph Colleton, of course, declared his gratitude in warm and properterms; but, as enjoined by the physician, he was discouraged from allunnecessary speech. But he was not denied to listen, and Forrester wascommunicative, as became his frank face and honest impulses. The briefquestions of Ralph obtained copious answers; and, for an hour, thewoodman cheered the solitude of his chamber, by the narration of suchmatters as were most likely to interest his hearer, in respect to thenew region where he was, perforce, kept a prisoner. Of Chestatee, andthe people thereof, their employment, and the resources of theneighborhood, Forrester gave a pretty correct account; though heremained prudently silent in regard to the probable parties to thatadventure in which his hearer had received his hurt. 

From speaking of these subjects, the transition was natural to the causeof uproar going on below stairs. The sounds of the hubbub penetrated thechamber of the wounded man, and he expressed some curiosity in respectto it. This was enough for the woodman, who had partially informedhimself, by a free conversation with the wagoner who drove the vehiclewhich brought Ralph to the tavern. He had caught up other details as hehurried to and fro, when he ran for the doctor. He was thus prepared tosatisfy the youth's inquiry. 

"Well, squire, did you ever see a live Yankee?"

The youth smiled, answering affirmatively. 

"He's a pedler, you know, and that means a chap what can wheedle theeyes out of your head, the soul out of your body, the gould out of yourpocket, and give you nothing but brass, and tin, and copper, in theplace of 'em. Well, all the hubbub you hear is jest now about one ofthese same Yankee pedlers. The regilators have caught the varmint--oneJared Bunce, as he calls himself--and a more cunning, rascally, presumptious critter don't come out of all Connecticut. He's been acheating and swindling all the old women round the country. He'll payfor it now, and no mistake. The regilators caught him about three hoursago, and they've brought him here for judgment and trial. They've got ajury setting on his vartues, and they'll hammer the soul out of himafore they let him git out from under the iron. I don't reckon they kincure him, for what's bred in the bone, you know, won't come out of theflesh; but they'll so bedevil bone and flesh, that I reckon he'll be thelast Yankee that ever comes to practice again in this Chestatee country. Maybe, he ain't deserving of much worse than they kin do. Maybe, heain't a scamp of the biggest wethers. His rascality ain't to bemeasured. Why, he kin walk through a man's pockets, jest as the devilgoes through a crack or a keyhole, and the money will naterally stick tohim, jest as ef he was made of gum turpentine. His very face is a sortof kining [coining] machine. His look says dollars and cents; and itsalways your dollars and cents, and he kines them out of your hands intohis'n, jest with a roll of his eye, and a mighty leetle turn of hisfinger. He cheats in everything, and cheats everybody. Thar's not an oldwoman in the country that don't say her prayers back'ards when shethinks of Jared Bunce. Thar's his tin-wares and his wood-wares--hiscoffeepots and kettles, all put together with saft sodder--that jest goto pieces, as ef they had nothing else to do. And he kin blarney youso--and he's so quick at a mortal lie--and he's got jest a good reasonfor everything--and he's so sharp at a 'scuse [excuse] that it'sonpossible to say where he's gwine to have you, and what you're a gwineto lose, and how you'll get off at last, and in what way he'll cheat youanother time. He's been at this business, in these diggings, now aboutthree years. The regilators have swore a hundred times to square offwith him; but he's always got off tell now; sometimes by newinventions--sometimes by bible oaths--and last year, by regilarly_cutting dirt_ [flight]. He's hardly a chance to git cl'ar now, for theregilators are pretty much up to all his tricks, and he's mighty nigh toride a rail for a colt, and get new _scores_ ag'in old scores, laid onwith the smartest hickories in natur'. "

"And who are the regulators?" asked the youth, languidly. 

"What! you from Georgy, and never to hear tell of the regilators? Why, that's the very place, I reckon, where the breed begun. The regilatorsare jest then, you see, our own people. We hain't got much law andjustice in these pairts, and when the rascals git too sassy andplentiful, we all turn out, few or many, and make a business of cleaningout the stables. We turn justices, and sheriffs, and lawyers, and settlescores with the growing sinners. We jine, hand in hand, agin such a chapas Jared Bunce, and set in judgment upon his evil-doings. It's a regilarcourt, though we make it up ourselves, and app'ints our own judges andjuries, and pass judgment 'cordin' to the case. Ef it's the firstoffence, or only a small one, we let's the fellow off with only a tasteof the hickory. Ef it's a tough case, and an old sinner, we give him abelly-full. Ef the whole country's roused, then Judge Lynch puts on hisblack cap, and the rascal takes a hard ride on a rail, a duck in thepond, and a perfect seasoning of hickories, tell thar ain't much left ofhim, or, may be, they don't stop to curry him, but jest halters him atonce to the nearest swinging limb. "

"Sharp justice! and which of these punishments will they be likely tobestow upon the Yankee?"

"Well thar's no telling; but I reckon he runs a smart chance of grazingagin the whole on 'em. They've got a long account agin him. In one wayor t'other, he's swindled everybody with his notions. Some bought hisclocks, which only went while the rogue stayed, and when he went theystopt forever. Some bought ready-made clothes, which went to pieces atthe very sight of soap and water. He sold a fusee to old Jerry Seaborn, and warranted the piece, and it bursted into flinders, the very firstfire, and tore little Jerry's hand and arm--son of old Jerry--almost topieces. He'll never have the right use of it agin. And that ain't all. Thar's no counting up his offences. "

"Bad as the fellow is, do you think it possible that they will torturehim as you describe, or hang him, without law, and a fair trial?"

"Why, Lord love you, ha'n't I told you that he'll have a fair trial, afore the regilators, and thar'll be any number of witnesses, andjudges, and sheriffs, and executioners. But, ef you know'd Bunce, you'dknow that a fair trial is the very last marcy that he'd aix ofProvidence. Don't you think now that he'll git anything worse than hisrighteous desarvings. He's a fellow that's got no more of a saving soulin him than my whip-handle, and ain't half so much to be counted on in afight. He's jest now nothing but a cheat and a swindle from head tofoot; hain't got anything but cheat in him--hain't got room for anyprinciple---not enough either to git drunk with a friend, or have itout, in a fair fight, with his enemy. I shouldn't myself wish to see thefellow's throat cut, but I ain't slow to say that I shall go for histasting a few hickories, after that a dip in the horsepond, and then apermit to leave the country by the shortest cut, and without lookingbehind him, under penalty of having the saft places on his back coveredwith the petticoats of Lot's wife, that we hear of in the Scriptures. "

Ralph Colleton was somewhat oppressed with apathy, and he knew how idlewould be any attempt to lessen the hostility of the sturdy woodman, inrespect to the wretched class of traders, such as were described inJared Bunce, by whom the simple and dependent borderers in the South andWest, were shockingly imposed upon. He made but a feeble effortaccordingly, in this direction, but was somewhat more earnest ininsisting upon the general propriety of forbearance, in a practice whichmilitated against law and order, and that justice should he administeredonly by the proper hands. But to this, Mark Forrester had his readyanswer; and, indeed, our young traveller was speaking according to thesocial standards of a wholly different region. 

"There, again, 'squire, you are quite out. The laws, somehow or other, can't touch these fellows. They run through the country a wink fasterthan the sheriff, and laugh at all the processes you send after them. So, you see, there's no justice, no how, unless you catch a rogue likethis, and wind up with him for all the gang--for they're all alike, allof the same family, and it comes to the same thing in the end. "

The youth answered languidly. He began to tire, and nature cravedrepose, and the physician had urged it. Forrester readily perceived thatthe listener's interest was flagging--nay he half fancied that much thathe had been saying, and in his best style, had fallen upon drowsysenses. Nobody likes to have his best things thrown away, and, as thereader will readily conceive, our friend Forrester had a sneakingconsciousness that all the world's eloquence did not cease on the daywhen Demosthenes died. But he was not the person to be offended becausethe patient desired to sleep. Far from it. He was only reasonable enoughto suppose that this was the properest thing that the wounded man coulddo. And so he told him; and adjusting carefully the pillows of theyouth, and disposing the bedclothes comfortably, and promising to seehim again before he slept, our woodman bade him good night, anddescended to the great hall of the tavern, where Jared Bunce was held indurance. 

The luckless pedler was, in truth, in a situation in which, for thefirst time in his life, he coveted nothing. The peril was one, also, from which, thus far, his mother-wit, which seldom failed before, couldsuggest no means of evasion or escape. His prospect was a dreary one;though with the wonderful capacity for endurance, and the surprisingcheerfulness, common to the class to which he belonged, he beheld itwithout dismay though with many apprehensions. 

Justice he did not expect, nor, indeed, as Forrester has already toldus, did he desire it. He asked for nothing less than justice. He wasdragged before judges, all of whom had complaints to prefer, andinjuries to redress; and none of whom were over-scrupulous as to thenature or measure of that punishment which was to procure them thedesired atonement. The company was not so numerous as noisy. Itconsisted of some twenty persons, villagers as well as small farmers inthe neighborhood, all of whom, having partaken _ad libitum_ of thewhiskey distributed freely about the table, which, in part, theysurrounded, had, in the Indian phrase, more tongues than brains, andwere sufficiently aroused by their potations to enter readily into anymischief. Some were smoking with all the industrious perseverance of theHollander; others shouted forth songs in honor of the bottle, and withall the fervor and ferment of Bacchanalian novitiates; and not a few, congregating about the immediate person of the pedler, assailed his earswith threats sufficiently pregnant with tangible illustration to makehim understand and acknowledge, by repeated starts and wincings, theawkward and uncomfortable predicament in which he stood. At length, thevarious disputants for justice, finding it difficult, if not impossible, severally, to command that attention which they conceived they merited, resolved themselves into something like a committee of the whole, andproceeded to the settlement of their controversy, and the pedler's fate, in a manner more suited to the importance of the occasion. Havingprocured that attention which was admitted to be the great object, moreby the strength of his lungs than his argument, one of the company, whowas dignified by the title of colonel, spoke out for the rest. 

"I say, boys--'tisn't of any use, I reckon, for everybody to speak aboutwhat everybody knows. One speaker's quite enough in this here matterbefore us. Here's none of us that sha'n't something to say agin thispedler, and the doings of the grand scoundrel in and about these parts, for a matter going on now about three years. Why, everybody knows him, big and little; and his reputation is so now, that the very boys takehis name to frighten away the crows with. Now, one person can jist aswell make a plain statement as another. I know, of my own score, there'snot one of my neighbors for ten miles round, that can't tell all aboutthe rotten prints he put off upon my old woman; and I know myself of allthe tricks he's played at odd times, more than a dozen, upon 'SquireNichols there, and Tom Wescott, and Bob Snipes, and twenty others; andeverybody knows them just as well as I. Now, to make up the score, andsquare off with the pedler, without any frustration, I move you thatLawyer Pippin take the chair, and judge in this matter; for the day hascome for settling off accounts, and I don't see why we shouldn't be theregulators for Bunce, seeing that everybody agrees that he's a rogue, and a pestilence, and desarves regilation. "

This speech was highly applauded, and chimed in admirably with allprejudices, and the voice that called Lawyer Pippin to preside over thedeliberations of the assembly was unanimous. The gentleman thus highlydistinguished, was a dapper and rather portly little personage, withsharp twinkling eyes, a ruby and remarkable nose, a double chin, retreating forehead, and corpulent cheek. He wore green glasses of adark, and a green coat of a light, complexion. The lawyer was the onlymember of the profession living in the village, had no competitor savewhen the sitting of the court brought in one or more from neighboringsettlements, and, being thus circumstanced, without opposition, and theonly representative of his craft, he was literally, to employ the slangphrase in that quarter, the "cock of the walk. " He was, however, not somuch regarded by the villagers a worthy as a clever man. It required noterudition to win the credit of profundity, and the lawyer knew how tomake the most of his learning among those who had none. Like many othergentlemen of erudition, he was grave to a proverb when the occasionrequired it, and would not be seen to laugh out of the prescribed place, though "Nestor swore the jest was laughable. " He relied greatly on sawsand sayings--could quote you the paradoxes of Johnson and theinfidelities of Hume without always understanding them, and mistook, asmen of that kind and calibre are very apt to do, the capacity to repeatthe grave absurdities of others as a proof of something in himself. Hisbusiness was not large, however, and among the arts of his profession, and as a means for supplying the absence of more legitimate occasionsfor its employment, he was reputed as excessively expert in making themost of any difficulty among his neighbors. The egg of mischief andcontroversy was hardly laid, before the worthy lawyer, with maternalcare, came clucking about it; he watched and warmed it withoutremission; and when fairly hatched, he took care that the whole broodshould be brought safely into court, his voice, and words, and actions, fully attesting the deep interest in their fortunes which he hadmanifested from the beginning. Many a secret slander, ripening at lengthinto open warfare, had been traced to his friendly influence, either _abovo_, or at least from the perilous period in such cases when the veryexistence of the embryo relies upon the friendly breath, the sustainingwarmth, and the occasional stimulant. Lawyer Pippin, among hisneighbors, was just the man for such achievements, and they gave him, with a degree of shrewdness common to them as a people, less qualifiedcredit for the capacity which he at all times exhibited in bringing acase into, than in carrying it out of court. But this opinion in nowiseaffected the lawyer's own estimate of his pretensions. Next to beingexcessively mean, he was excessively vain, and so highly did he regardhis own opinions, that he was never content until he heard himselfbusily employed in their utterance. An opportunity for a speech, such asthe present, was not suffered to pass without due regard; but as wepropose that he shall exhibit himself in the most happy manner at alater period in our narrative, we shall abridge, in few, the long stringof queerly-associated words in the form of a speech, which, on assumingthe chair thus assigned him, he poured forth upon the assembly. After along prefatory, apologetic, and deprecatory exordium, in which his owndemerits, as is usual with small speakers, were strenuously urged; andafter he had exhausted most of the commonplaces about the purity of theermine upon the robes of justice, and the golden scales, and theunshrinking balance, and the unsparing and certain sword, he went onthus:--

"And now, my friends, if I rightly understand the responsibility andobligations of the station thus kindly conferred upon me, I am requiredto arraign the pedler, Jared Bunce, before you, on behalf of thecountry, which country, as the clerk reads it, you undoubtedly are; andhere let me remark, my friends, the excellent and nice distinction whichthis phrase makes between the man and the soil, between the nobleintellect and the high soul, and the mere dirt and dust upon which wedaily tread. This very phrase, my friends, is a fine embodiment of thatdemocratic principle upon which the glorious constitution is erected. But, as I was saying, my friends, I am required to arraign before youthis same pedler, Jared Bunce, on sundry charges of misdemeanor, andswindling, and fraud--in short, as I understand it, for endeavoring, without having the fear of God and good breeding in his eyes, to passhimself off upon the good people of this county as an honest man. Isthis the charge, my friends?"

"Ay, ay, lawyer, that's the how, that's the very thing itself. Put it tothe skunk, let him deny that if he can--let him deny that his name isJared Bunce--that he hails from Connecticut--that he is a shark, and apirate, and a pestilence. Let him deny that he is a cheat--that he goesabout with his notions and other rogueries--that he doesn't manufacturemaple-seeds, and hickory nutmegs, and ground coffee made out of rottenrye. Answer to that, Jared Bunce, you white-livered lizard. "

Thus did one of his accusers take up the thread of the discourse asconcluded in part by the chairman. Another and another followed withlike speeches in the most rapid succession, until all was againconfusion; and the voice of the lawyer, after a hundred ineffectualefforts at a hearing, degenerated into a fine squeak, and terminated atlast in a violent fit of coughing, that fortunately succeeded inproducing the degree of quiet around him to secure which his languagehad, singularly enough, entirely failed. For a moment the company ceasedits clamor, out of respect to the chairman's cough; and, having clearedhis throat with the contents of a tumbler of Monongahela which seemed tostand permanently full by his side, he recommenced the proceedings; theoffender, in the meantime, standing mute and motionless, now almoststupified with terror, conscious of repeated offences, knowing perfectlythe reckless spirit of those who judged him, and hopeless of escape fromtheir hands, without, in the country phrase, the loss at least of "wingand tail feathers. " The chairman with due gravity began:--

"Jared Bunce--is that your name?"

"Why, lawyer, I can't deny that I have gone by that name, and I guessit's the right name for me to go by, seeing that I was christened Jared, after old Uncle Jared Withers, that lives down at Dedham, in the stateof Massachusetts. He did promise to do something for me, seeing I wasnamed after him, but he ha'n't done nothing yet, no how. Then the nameof Bunce, you see, lawyer, I got from my father, his name being Bunce, too, I guess. "

"Well, Jared Bunce, answer to the point, and without circumlocution. Youhave heard some of the charges against you. Having taken them down inshort-hand, I will repeat them. "

The pedler approached a few steps, advanced one leg, raised a hand tohis ear, and put on all the external signs of devout attention, as thechairman proceeded in the long and curious array. 

"First, then, it is charged against you, Bunce, by young Dick Jenkins, that stands over in front of you there, that somewhere between thefifteenth and twenty-third of June--last June was a year--you came bynight to his plantation, he living at that time in De Kalb county; thatyou stopped the night with him, without charge, and in the morning youtraded a clock to his wife for fifteen dollars, and that you had notbeen gone two days, before the said clock began to go whiz, whiz, whiz, and commenced striking, whizzing all the while, and never stopped tillit had struck clear thirty-one, and since that time it will neitherwhiz, nor strike, nor do nothing. "

"Why, lawyer, I ain't the man to deny the truth of this transaction, yousee; but, then, you must know, much depends upon the way you manage aclock. A clock is quite a delicate and ticklish article of manufacture, you see, and it ain't everybody that can make a clock, or can make it gowhen it don't want to; and if a man takes a hammer or a horsewhip, orany other unnatural weapon to it, as if it was a house or a horse, why Iguess, it's not reasonable to expect it to keep in order, and it's nouse in having a clock no how, if you don't treat it well. As for itsstriking thirty-one, that indeed is something remarkable, for I neverheard one of mine strike more than twelve, and that's zactly the numberthey're regulated to strike. But, after all, lawyer, I don't see thatSquire Jenkins has been much a loser by the trade, seeing that he paidme in bills of the Hogee-nogee bank, and that stopped payment about thetime, and before I could get the bills changed. It's true, I didn't leton that I knowed anything about it, and got rid of the paper a littlewhile before the thing went through the country. "

"Now, look ye, you gingerbread-bodied Yankee--I'd like to know what youmean about taking whip and hammer to the clock. If you mean to say thatI ever did such a thing, I'll lick you now, by the eternal scratch!"

"Order, order, Mr. Jenkins--order! The chair must be respected. You mustcome to order, Mr. Jenkins--" was the vociferous and urgent cry of thechairman, repeated by half a dozen voices; the pedler, in the meanwhile, half doubting the efficacy of the call, retreating with no little terrorbehind the chair of the dignified personage who presided. 

"Well, you needn't make such a howling about it, " said Jenkins, wrathfully, and looking around him with the sullen ferocity of a chafedbear. "I know jist as well how to keep order, I reckon, as any on you;but I don't see how it will be out of order to lick a Yankee, or who canhinder me, if I choose it. "

"Well, don't look at me, Dick Jenkins, with such a look, or I'll have afinger in that pie, old fellow. I'm no Yankee to be frightened by sich alank-sided fellow as you; and, by dogs, if nobody else can keep you inorder, I'm jist the man to try if I can't. So don't put on any shines, old boy, or I'll darken your peepers, if I don't come very nigh pluckingthem out altogether. "

So spake another of the company, who, having been much delectified withthe trial, had been particularly solicitous in his cries for order. Jenkins was not indisposed to the affray, and made an angry retort, which provoked another still more angry; but other parties interfering, the new difficulty was made to give place to that already in hand. Theimputation upon Jenkins, that his ignorance of the claims of the clockto gentle treatment, alone, had induced it to speak thirty-one times, and at length refuse to speak at all, had touched his pride; and, sorelyvexed, he retired upon a glass of whiskey to the farther corner of theroom, and with his pipe, nursing the fumes of his wrath, he waitedimpatiently the signal for the wild mischief which he knew would come. 

In the meanwhile, the examination of the culprit proceeded; but, as wecan not hope to convey to the reader a description of the affair as ithappened, to the life, we shall content ourselves with a brief summary. The chair went on rapidly enumerating the sundry misdeeds of the Yankee, demanding, and in most cases receiving, rapid and unhesitatingreplies--evasively and adroitly framed, for the offender well knew thata single unlucky word or phrase would bring down upon his shoulders awilderness of blows. 

"You are again charged, Bunce, with having sold to Colonel Blundell acoffee-pot and two tin cups, all of which went to pieces--the soldermelting off at the very sight of the hot water. "

"Well, lawyer, it stands to reason I can't answer for that. The tinwares I sell stand well enough in a northern climate: there may be somedifference in yours that I can't account for; and I guess, pretty much, there is. Now, your people are a mighty hot-tempered people, and take afight for breakfast, and make three meals a day out of it: now, we inthe north have no stomach for such fare; so here, now, as far as I cansee, your climate takes pretty much after the people, and if so, it's nowonder that solder can't stand it. Who knows, again, but you boil yourwater quite too hot? Now, I guess, there's jest as much harm in boilingwater too hot, as in not boiling it hot enough. Who knows? All I can sayis, that the lot of wares I bring to this market next season shall becalkilated on purpose to suit the climate. "

The chairman seemed struck with this view of the case, and spoke with agravity corresponding with the deep sagacity he conceived himself tohave exhibited. 

"There does seem to be something in this; and it stands to reason, whatwill do for a nation of pedlers won't do for us. Why, when I recollectthat they are buried in snows half the year, and living on nothing elsethe other half, I wonder how they get the water to boil at all. Answerthat, Bunce. "

"Well, lawyer, I guess you must have travelled pretty considerable downeast in your time and among my people, for you do seem to know all aboutthe matter jest as well and something better than myself. "

The lawyer, not a little flattered by the compliment so slyly andevasively put in, responded to the remark with a due regard to his ownincrease of importance. 

"I am not ignorant of your country, pedler, and of the ways of itspeople; but it is not me that you are to satisfy. Answer to thegentlemen around, if it is not a difficult matter for you to get waterto boil at all during the winter months. "

"Why, to say the truth, lawyer, when coal is scarce and high in themarket, heat is very hard to come. Now, I guess the ware I brought outlast season was made under those circumstances; but I have a lot on handnow, which will be here in a day or two, which I should like to trade tothe colonel, and I guess I may venture to say, all the hot water in thecountry won't melt the solder off. "

"I tell you what, pedler, we are more likely to put you in hot waterthan try any more of your ware in that way. But where's yourplunder?--let us see this fine lot of notions you speak of"--was thespeech of the colonel already so much referred to, and whose coffee-potbottom furnished so broad a foundation for the trial. He was a wild androving person, to whom the tavern, and the racecourse, and the cockpit, from his very boyhood up, had been as the breath of life, and with whomthe chance of mischief was never willingly foregone. But the pedler waswary, and knew his man. The lurking smile and sneer of the speaker hadenough in them for the purposes of warning, and he replied evasively:--

"Well, colonel, you shall see them by next Tuesday or Wednesday. Ishould be glad to have a trade with you--the money's no object--and ifyou have furs, or skins, or anything that you like to get off yourhands, there's no difficulty, that I can see, to a long bargain. "

"But why not trade now, Bunce?--what's to hinder us now? I sha'n't be inthe village after Monday. "

"Well, then, colonel, that'll just suit me, for I did calkilate to callon you at the farm, on my way into the nation where I'm going lookingout for furs. "

"Yes, and live on the best for a week, under some pretence that your nagis sick, or you sick, or something in the way of a start--then go off, cheat, and laugh at me in the bargain. I reckon, old boy, you don't comeover me in that way again; and I'm not half done with you yet about thekettles. That story of yours about the hot and cold may do for thepigeons, but you don't think the hawks will swallow it, do ye? Come--outwith your notions!"

"Oh, to be sure, only give a body time, colonel, " as, pulled by thecollar, with some confusion and in great trepidation, responded thebeleagured dealer in clocks and calicoes--"they shall all be here in aday or two at most. Seeing that one of my creatures was foundered, I hadto leave the goods, and drive the other here without them. "

The pedler had told the truth in part only. One of his horses had indeedstruck lame, but he had made out to bring him to the village with allhis wares; and this fact, as in those regions of question and inquirywas most likely to be the case, had already taken wind. 

"Now, look ye, Bunce, do you take me for a blear-eyed mole, that neverseed the light of a man's eyes?" inquired Blundell, closely approachingthe beset tradesman, and taking him leisurely by the neck. "Do you wantto take a summerset through that window, old fellow, that you try tostuff us with such tough stories? If you do, I _rether_ reckon you cando it without much difficulty. " Thus speaking, and turning to some ofthose around him, he gave directions which imparted to the limbs of thepedler a continuous and crazy motion, that made his teeth chatter. 

"Hark ye, boys, jist step out, and bring in the cart of Jared Bunce, wheels and all, if so be that the body won't come off easily. We'll seefor ourselves. "

It was now the pedler's turn for speech; and, forgetting the precisepredicament in which he personally stood, and only solicitous to savehis chattels from the fate which he plainly saw awaited them, hisexpostulations and entreaties were rapid and energetic. 

"Now, colonel--gentlemen--my good friends--to-morrow or the next day youshall see them all--I'll go with you to your plantation--"

"No, thank ye. I want none of your company--and, look ye, if you knowwhen you're well off, don't undertake to call me your friend. I say, Mr. Chairman, if it's in order--I don't want to do anything disorderly--Imove that Bunce's cart be moved here into this very room, that we maysee for ourselves the sort of substance he brings here to put off uponus. "

The chairman had long since seemingly given up all hope of exercising, in their true spirit, the duties of the station which he held. For awhile, it is true, he battled with no little energy for the integrity ofhis dignity, with good lungs and a stout spirit; but, though fully amatch in these respects for any one, or perhaps any two of hiscompetitors, he found the task of contending with the dozen rather lesseasy, and, in a little while, his speeches, into which he had luggedmany a choice _ad captandum_ of undisputed effect on any other occasion, having been completely merged and mingled with those of the mass, hewisely forbore any further waste of matter, in the stump-oratory of theSouth usually so precious; and, drawing himself up proudly andprofoundly in his high place, he remained dignifiedly sullen, until thespecial reference thus made by Colonel Blundell again opened thefountains of the oracle and set them flowing. 

The lawyer, thus appealed to, in a long tirade, and in his happiestmanner, delivered his opinion in the premises, and in favor of themeasure. How, indeed, could he do otherwise, and continue that tenaciouspursuit of his own interests which had always been the primary aim andobject, as well of the profession as the person. He at once sagaciouslybeheld the embryo lawsuit and contingent controversy about to resultfrom the proposition; and, in his mind, with a far and free vision, began to compute the costs and canvass the various terms and prolongedtrials of county court litigation. He saw fee after fee thrust into hishands--he beheld the opposing parties desirous to conciliate, andextending to him sundry of those equivocal courtesies, which, thoughthey take not the shape of money are money's worth, and the worthychairman had no scruples as to the propriety of the measure. The profitsand pay once adjusted to his satisfaction, his spirit took a broadsweep, and the province of human fame, circumscribed, it is true, withinthe ten mile circuit of his horizon, was at once open before him. Hebeheld the strife, and enjoyed the triumph over his fellow-laborers atthe bar--he already heard the applauses of his neighbors at this or thatfine speech or sentiment; and his form grew insensibly erect, and hiseye glistened proudly, as he freely and fully assented to the measurewhich promised such an abundant harvest. Vainly did the despairing anddispirited pedler implore a different judgment; the huge box whichcapped the body of his travelling vehicle, torn from its axle, withoutany show of reverential respect for screw or fastening, was borne in amoment through the capacious entrance of the hall, and placedconspicuously upon the table. 

"The key, Bunce, the key!" was the demand of a dozen. 

The pedler hesitated for a second, and the pause was fatal. Before hecould redeem his error, a blow from a hatchet settled the difficulty, bydistributing the fine deal-box cover, lock and hinges, in fragments overthe apartment. The revelation of wares and fabrics--a strange admixture, with propriety designated "notions"--brought all eyes immediatelyaround, and rendered a new order, for common convenience, necessary inthe arrangement of the company. The chairman, chair and man, were in amoment raised to a corresponding elevation upon the table, over thecollection; and the controversy and clamor, from concentrating, as itdid before, upon the person of the pedler, were now transferred to thecommodities he brought for sale. Order having been at length obtained, Colonel Blundell undertook the assertion of his own and the wrongs ofhis fellow-sufferers, and kept uninterrupted possession of the floor. 

"And now, Mr. Chairman, I will jist go a little into the particulars ofthe rogueries and rascalities of this same Yankee. Now, in the firstplace, he is a Yankee, and that's enough, itself, to bring him topunishment--but we'll let that pass, and go to his othertransactions--for, as I reckon, it's quite punishment enough for thatoffence, to be jist what he is. He has traded rotten stuffs about thecountry, that went to pieces the first washing. He has traded calicoprints, warranted for fast colors, that ran faster than he ever ranhimself. He has sold us tin stuffs, that didn't stand hot water at all;and then thinks to get off, by saying they were not made for ourclimate. And let me ask, Mr. Chairman, if they wasn't made for ourclimate, why did he bring 'em here? let him come to the scratch, andanswer that, neighbors--but he can't. Well, then, as you've all hearn, he has traded clocks to us at money's worth, that one day ran fasterthan a Virginny race-mare, and at the very next day, would strike lame, and wouldn't go at all, neither for beating nor coaxing--and besides allthese doings, neighbors, if these an't quite enough to carry a skunk tothe horsepond, he has committed his abominations without number, allthrough the country high and low--for hain't he lied and cheated, andthen had the mean cowardice to keep out of the way of the _regilators_, who have been on the look-out for his tracks for the last half year?Now, if these things an't _desarving_ of punishment, there's nobody fitto be hung--there's nobody that ought to be whipped. Hickories oughtn'tto grow any longer, and the best thing the governor can do would be tohave all the jails burnt down from one eend of the country to the other. The proof stands up agin Bunce, and there's no denying it; and it's nouse, no how, to let this fellow come among us, year after year, to playthe same old hand, take our money for his rascally goods, then go awayand laugh at us. And the question before us is jist what I have said, and what shall we do with the critter? To show you that it's high timeto do something in the matter, look at this calico print, that looks, tobe sure, very well to the eye, except, as you see, here's a tree withred leaves and yellow flowers--a most ridiculous notion, indeed, for whoever seed a tree with sich colors here, in the very beginning ofsummer?"

Here the pedler, for the moment, more solicitous for the credit of themanufactures than for his own safety, ventured to suggest that the printwas a mere fancy, a matter of taste--in fact, a notion, and nottherefore to be judged by the standard which had been brought to decideupon its merits. He did not venture, however, to say what, perhaps, would have been the true horn of the difficulty, that the print was anautumn or winter illustration, for that might have subjected him tocondign punishment for its unseasonableness. As it was, the defence setup was to the full as unlucky as any other might have been. 

"I'll tell you what, Master Bunce, it won't do to take natur in vain. Ifyou can show me a better painter than natur, from your pairts, I giveup; but until that time, I say that any man who thinks to give the woodsa different sort of face from what God give 'em, ought to be licked forhis impudence if nothing else. "

The pedler ventured again to expostulate; but the argument having beenconsidered conclusive against him, he was made to hold his peace, whilethe prosecutor proceeded. 

"Now then, Mr. Chairman, as I was saying--here is a sample of the kindof stuff he thinks to impose upon us. Look now at this here article, andI reckon it's jist as good as any of the rest, and say whether a littletouch of Lynch's law, an't the very thing for the Yankee!"

Holding up the devoted calico to the gaze of the assembly, with a singleeffort of his strong and widely-distended arms, he rent it asunder withlittle difficulty, the sweep not terminating, until the stuff, which, by-the-way, resigned itself without struggle or resistance to its fate, had been most completely and evenly divided. The poor pedler in vainendeavored to stay a ravage that, once begun, became epidemical. Hestruggled and strove with tenacious hand, holding on to sundry of hischoicest bales, and claiming protection from the chair, until warned ofhis imprudent zeal in behalf of goods so little deserving of the risk, by the sharp and sudden application of an unknown hand to his ears whichsent him reeling against the table, and persuaded him into as great adegree of patience, as, under existing circumstances, he could be wellexpected to exhibit. Article after article underwent a like analysis ofits strength and texture, and a warm emulation took place among therioters, as to their several capacities in the work of destruction. Theshining bottoms were torn from the tin-wares in order to prove that sucha separation was possible, and it is doing but brief justice to thepedler to say, that, whatever, in fact, might have been the truecharacter of his commodities, the very choicest of human fabrics couldnever have resisted the various tests of bone and sinew, tooth and nail, to which they were indiscriminately subjected. Immeasurable was theconfusion that followed. All restraints were removed--all hindranceswithdrawn, and the tide rushed onward with a most headlong tendency. 

Apprehensive of pecuniary responsibilities in his own person, and havinghis neighbors wrought to the desired pitch--fearing, also, lest hisstation might somewhat involve himself in the meshes he was weavingaround others, the sagacious chairman, upon the first show of violence, roared out his resignation, and descended from his place. But thismovement did not impair the industry of the _regulators_. A voice washeard proposing a bonfire of the merchandise, and no second suggestionwas necessary. All hands but those of the pedler and the attorney wereemployed in building the pyre in front of the tavern some thirty yards;and here, in choice confusion, lay flaming calicoes, illegitimate silks, worsted hose, wooden clocks and nutmegs, maple-wood seeds of alldescriptions, plaid cloaks, scents, and spices, jumbled up in ludicrousvariety. A dozen hands busied themselves in applying the torch to thedevoted mass--howling over it, at every successive burst of flame thatwent up into the dark atmosphere, a savage yell of triumph that talliedwell with the proceeding. 

"Hurrah!"

The scene was one of indescribable confusion. The rioters danced aboutthe blaze like so many frenzied demons. Strange, no one attempted toappropriate the property that must have been a temptation to all. 

Our pedler, though he no longer strove to interfere, was by no meansinsensible to the ruin of his stock in trade. It was calculated to moveto pity, in any other region, to behold him as he stood in the doorway, stupidly watching the scene, while the big tears were slowly gatheringin his eyes, and falling down his bronzed and furrowed cheeks. Therough, hard, unscrupulous man can always weep for himself. Whatever thedemerits of the rogue, our young traveller above stairs, would haveregarded him as the victim of a too sharp justice. Not so theparticipators in the outrage. They had been too frequently the losers bythe cunning practice of the pedler, to doubt for a moment the perfectpropriety--nay, the very moderate measure--of that wild justice whichthey were dealing out to his misdeeds. And with this even, they were notsatisfied. As the perishable calicoes roared up and went down in theflames, as the pans and pots and cups melted away in the furnace heat, and the painted faces of the wooden clocks, glared out like those ofJohn Rogers at the stake, enveloped in fire, the cries of the crowd weremingled in with a rude, wild chorus, in which the pedler was made tounderstand that he stood himself in a peril almost as great as hisconsuming chattels. It was the famous ballad of the _regulators_ that heheard, and it smote his heart with a consciousness of his personaldanger that made him shiver in his shoes. The uncouth doggrel, recitedin a lilting sort of measure, the peculiar and various pleasures of acanter upon a pine rail. It was clear that the mob were by no meanssatisfied with the small measure of sport which they had enjoyed. Asingle verse of this savage ditty will suffice for the present, rolledout upon the air, from fifty voices, the very boys and negroes joiningin the chorus, and making it tell terribly to the senses of thethreatened person. First one voice would warble

 "Did you ever, ever, ever!"--

and there was a brief pause, at the end of which the crowd joined inwith unanimous burst and tremendous force of lungs:--

 "Did you ever, ever, ever, in your life ride a rail? Such a deal of pleasure's in it, that you never can refuse! You are mounted on strong shoulders, that'll never, never fail, Though you pray'd with tongue of sinner, just to plant you where they choose. Though the brier patch is nigh you, looking up with thorny faces, They never wait to see how you like the situation, But down you go a rolling, through the penetrating places, Nor scramble out until you give the cry of approbation. Oh! pleasant is the riding, highly-seated on the rail, And worthy of the wooden horse, the rascal that we ride; Let us see the mighty shoulders that will never, never fail. To lift him high, and plant him, on the crooked rail astride. The seven-sided pine rail, the pleasant bed of briar, The little touch of hickory law, with a dipping in the mire. 

 "Did you ever, ever, ever, " &c. , from the troupe in full blast!

The lawyer Pippin suddenly stood beside the despairing pedler, as thisominous ditty was poured upon the night-winds. 

"Do you hear that song, Bunce?" he asked. "How do you like the music?"

The pedler looked in his face with a mixed expression of grief, anger, and stupidity, but he said nothing. 

"Hark ye, Bunce, " continued the lawyer. "Do you know what that means?Does your brain take in its meaning, my friend?"

"Friend, indeed!" was the very natural exclamation of the pedler as heshrank from the hand of the lawyer, which had been affectionately laidupon his shoulder. "Friend, indeed! I say, Lawyer Pippin, if it hadn'tbeen for you, I'd never ha' been in this fix. I'm ruined by you. "

"Ruined by me! Pshaw, Bunce, you are a fool. I was your friend all thetime. "

"Oh, yes! I can see how. But though you did stop, when they began, yetyou did enough to set them on. That was like a good lawyer, I guess, butnot so much like a friend. Had you been a friend, you could have savedmy property from the beginning. "

"Nay, nay, Bunce; you do me wrong. They had sworn against you long ago, and you know them well enough. The devil himself couldn't stop 'em whenonce upon the track. But don't be down in the mouth. I can save younow. "

"Save me!"

"Ay! don't you hear? They're singing the regulation song. Once thatblaze goes down, they'll be after you. It's a wonder they've left youhere so long. Now's your time. You must be off. Fly by the back door, and leave it to me to get damages for your loss of property. "

"You, lawyer? well, I should like to know how you calkilate to do that?"

"I'll tell you. You know my profession. "

"I guess I do, pretty much. "

"Thus, then--most of these are men of substance; at least they haveenough to turn out a pretty good case each of them--now all you have todo is to bring suit. I'll do all that, you know, the same as if you didit yourself. You must lay your damages handsomely, furnish a fewaffidavits, put the business entirely in my hands, and--how much is thevalue of your goods?"

"Well, I guess they might be worth something over three hundred andtwenty dollars and six shillings, York money. "

"Well, give me all the particulars, and I venture to assure you that Ican get five hundred dollars damages at least, and perhaps a thousand. But of this we can talk more at leisure when you are in safety. Where'syour cart, Bunce?"

"On t'other side of the house--what they've left on it. "

"Now, then, while they're busy over the blaze, put your tackle on, hitchyour horse, and take the back track to my clearing; it's but a shortmile and a quarter, and you'll be there in no time. I'll follow in alittle while, and we'll arrange the matter. "

"Well, now, lawyer, but I can't--my horse, as you see, having over eathimself, is struck with the founders and can't budge. I put him in'Squire Dickens' stable, 'long with his animals, and seeing that hehadn't had much the day before, I emptied the corn from their troughsinto his, and jest see what's come of it. I hadn't ought to done so, tobe sure. "

"That's bad, but that must not stop you. Your life, Bunce, is in danger, and I have too much regard for you to let you risk it by longer stayhere. Take my nag, there--the second one from the tree, and put him inthe gears in place of your own. He's as gentle as a spaniel, and goeslike a deer. You know the back track to my house, and I'll come afteryou, and bring your creature along. I 'spose he's not so stiff but hecan bring me. "

"He can do that, lawyer, I guess, without difficulty. I'll move as yousay, and be off pretty slick. Five hundred dollars damage, lawyer--eh!"

"No matter, till I see you. Put your nag in gears quickly--you havelittle time to spare!"

The pedler proceeded to the work, and was in a little while ready for astart. But he lingered at the porch. 

"I say, lawyer, it's a hard bout they've given me this time. I did fearthey would be rash and obstropulous, but didn't think they'd gone sofar. Indeed, it's clear, if it hadn't been that the cretur failed me, Ishould not have trusted myself in the place, after what I was told. "

"Bunce, you have been rather sly in your dealings, and they have a gooddeal to complain of. Now, though I said nothing about it, that coat yousold me for a black grew red with a week's wear, and threadbare in amonth. "

"Now, don't talk, lawyer, seeing you ha'n't paid me for it yet; butthat's neither here nor there. If I did, as you say, sell my goods forsomething more than their vally, I hadn't ought to had such a punishmentas this. "

The wild song of the rioters rang in his ears, followed by aproposition, seemingly made with the utmost gravity, to change the planof operations, and instead of giving him the ride upon the rail, cap theblazing goods of his cart with the proper person of the proprietor. Thepedler lingered to hear no further; and the quick ear of the lawyer, ashe returned into the hall, distinguished the rumbling motion of his carthurrying down the road. But he had scarcely reseated himself and resumedhis glass, before Bunce also reappeared. 

"Why, man, I thought you were off. You burn daylight; though they dosay, those whom water won't drown, rope must hang. "

"There is some risk, lawyer, to be sure; but when I recollected thisbox, which you see is a fine one, though they have disfigured it, Ithought I should have time enough to take it with me, and anything thatmight be lying about;" looking around the apartment as he spoke, andgathering up a few fragments which had escaped the general notice. 

"Begone, fool!" exclaimed the lawyer, impatiently. "They are uponyou--they come--fly for your life, you dog--I hear their voices. "

"I'm off, lawyer"--and looking once behind him as he hurried off, thepedler passed from the rear of the building as those who sought himre-entered in front. 

"The blood's in him--the Yankee will be Yankee still, " was the mutteredspeech of the lawyer, as he prepared to encounter the returning rioters. 

CHAPTER VII. 

THE YANKEE OUTWITS THE LAWYER. 

It was at this moment that Forrester entered the tavern-hall; curious toknow the result of the trial, from which his attendance upon Ralph hadunavoidably detained him. The actors of the drama were in better humorthan before, and uproarious mirth had succeeded to ferocity. They wereall in the very excess of self-glorification; for, though somewhatdisappointed of their design, and defrauded of the catastrophe, they hadnevertheless done much, according to their own judgment, and enough, perhaps, in that of the reader, for the purposes of justice. The work ofmischief had been fully consummated; and though, to their notion, stillsomewhat incomplete from the escape of the pedler himself, they were ingreat part satisfied--some few among them, indeed--and among these ourquondam friend Forrester may be included--were not sorry that Bunce hadescaped the application of the personal tests which had beencontemplated for his benefit; for, however willing, it was somewhatdoubtful whether they could have been altogether able to save him fromthe hands of those having a less scrupulous regard to humanity. 

The sudden appearance of Forrester revived the spirit of thetransaction, now beginning somewhat to decline, as several voicesundertook to give him an account of its progress. The lawyer was in hishappiest mood, as things, so far, had all turned out as he expected. Hisvoice was loudest, and his oratory more decidedly effective than ever. The prospect before him was also of so seductive a character, that heyielded more than was his wont to the influences of the bottle-god: whostood little iron-hooped keg, perched upon a shelf conveniently in thecorner. 

"Here Cuffee, you thrice-blackened baby of Beelzebub!--why stand youthere, arms akimbo, and showing your ivories, when you see we have nowhiskey! Bring in the jug, you imp of darkness--touch us theMonongahela, and a fresh tumbler for Mr. Forrester--and, look you, onetoo for Col. Blundell, seeing he's demolished the other. Quick, youterrapin!"

Cuffee recovered himself in an instant. His hands fell to his sides--hismouth closed intuitively; and the whites of his eyes changing theirfixed direction, marshalled his way with a fresh jug, containing two ormore quarts, to the rapacious lawyer. 

"Ah, you blackguard, that will do--now, Mr. Forrester--now, Col. Blundell--don't be slow--no backing out, boys--hey, for a long drink tothe stock in trade of our friend the pedler. "

So spoke Pippin; a wild huzza attested the good humor which theproposition excited. Potation rapidly followed potation, and the jugagain demanded replenishing. The company was well drilled in thisspecies of exercise; and each individual claiming caste in such circle, must be well prepared, like the knight-challenger of old tourney, todefy all comers. In the cases of Pippin and Blundell, successivedraughts, after the attainment of a certain degree of mental and animalstolidity, seemed rather to fortify than to weaken their defences, andto fit them more perfectly for a due prolongation of the warfare. Theappetite, too, like most appetites, growing from what it fed on, ventured few idle expostulations; glass after glass, in rapidsuccession, fully attested the claim of these two champions to therenown which such exercises in that section of the world had won forthem respectively. The subject of conversation, which, in all this time, accompanied their other indulgences, was, very naturally, that of thepedler and his punishment. On this topic, however, a professional notless than personal policy sealed the lips of our lawyer except on thosepoints which admitted of a general remark, without application or evenmeaning. Though drunk, his policy was that of the courts; and thepractice of the sessions had served him well, in his own person, to givethe lie to the "_in vino veritas_" of the proverb. 

Things were in this condition when the company found increase in theperson of the landlord, who now made his appearance; and, as we intendthat he shall be no unimportant auxiliary in the action of our story, itmay be prudent for a few moments to dwell upon the details of hisoutward man, and severally to describe his features. We have him beforeus in that large, dark, and somewhat heavy person, who sidles awkwardlyinto the apartment, as if only conscious in part of the true uses of hislegs and arms. He leans at this moment over the shoulders of one of thecompany, and, while whispering in his ears, at the same time, with anupward glance, surveys the whole. His lowering eyes, almost shut in andpartially concealed by his scowling and bushy eyebrows, are of a quickgray, stern, and penetrating in their general expression, yet, whennarrowly observed, putting on an air of vacancy, if not stupidity, thatfurnishes a perfect blind to the lurking meaning within. His nose islarge, yet not disproportionately so; his head well made, though aphrenologist might object to a strong animal preponderance in the rear;his mouth bold and finely curved, is rigid however in its compression, and the lips, at times almost woven together, are largely indicative offerocity; they are pale in color, and dingily so, yet his flushed cheekand brow bear striking evidence of a something too frequent revel; hishair, thin and scattered, is of a dark brown complexion and sprinkledwith gray; his neck is so very short that a single black handkerchief, wrapped loosely about it, removes all seeming distinction between itselfand the adjoining shoulders--the latter being round and uprising, forming a socket, into which the former appears to fall as into adesignated place. As if more effectually to complete the unfavorableimpression of such an outline, an ugly scar, partly across the cheek, and slightly impairing the integrity of the left nostril, gives to hiswhole look a sinister expression, calculated to defeat entirely anyneutralizing or less objectionable feature. His form--to conclude thepicture--is constructed with singular power; and though not symmetrical, is far from ungainly. When impelled by some stirring motive, hiscarriage is easy, without seeming effort, and his huge frame throwsaside the sluggishness which at other times invests it, putting on ahabit of animated exercise, which changes the entire appearance of theman. 

Such was Walter, or, as he was there more familiarly termed Wat Munro. He took his seat with the company, with the ease of one who neitherdoubted nor deliberated upon the footing which he claimed among them. Hewas not merely the publican of his profession, but better fitted indeedfor perhaps any other avocation, as may possibly be discovered in theprogress of our narrative. To his wife, a good quiet sort of body, who, as Forrester phrased it, did not dare to say the soul was her own, hedeputed the whole domestic management of the tavern; while he would begone, nobody could say where or why, for weeks and more at a time, awayfrom bar and hostel, in different portions of the country. None venturedto inquire into a matter that was still sufficiently mysterious toarouse curiosity; people living with and about him generallyentertaining a degree of respect, amounting almost to vulgar awe, forhis person and presence, which prevented much inquiry into his doings. Some few, however, more bold than the rest, spoke in terms of suspicion;but the number of this class was inconsiderable, and they themselvesfelt that the risk which they incurred was not so unimportant as topermit of their going much out of the way to trace the doubtful featuresin his life. 

As we have already stated, he took his place along with his guests; thebottles and glasses were replenished, the story of the pedler againtold, and each individual once more busied in describing his ownexploits. The lawyer, immersed in visions of grog and glory, rhapsodizedperpetually and clapped his hands. Blundell, drunkenly happy, at everydischarge of the current humor, made an abortive attempt to chuckle, theineffectual halloo gurgling away in the abysses of his mighty throat;until, at length, his head settled down supinely upon his breast, hiseyes were closed, and the hour of his victory had gone by; though, eventhen, his huge jaws opening at intervals for the outward passage ofsomething which by courtesy might be considered a laugh, attested thestill anxious struggles of the inward spirit, battling with theweaknesses of the flesh. 

The example of a leader like Blundell had a most pernicious effect uponthe uprightness of the greater part of the company. Having the sanctionof authority, several others, the minor spirits it is true, settled downunder their chairs without a struggle. The survivors made somelugubrious efforts at a triumph over their less stubborn companions, butthe laborious and husky laugh was but a poor apology for the properperformance of this feat. Munro, who to his other qualities added thoseof a sturdy _bon-vivant_, together with Forrester, and a few who stillgirt in the lawyer as the prince of the small jest, discharged theirwitticisms upon the staggering condition of affairs; not forgetting intheir assaults the disputatious civilian himself. That worthy, we regretto add, though still unwilling to yield, and still striving to retort, had nevertheless suffered considerable loss of equilibrium. His speecheswere more than ever confused, and it was remarked that his eyes dancedabout hazily, with a most ineffectual expression. He looked about, however, with a stupid gaze of self-satisfaction; but his laugh andlanguage, forming a strange and most unseemly coalition, degenerated atlast into a dolorous sniffle, indicating the rapid departure of the fewmental and animal holdfasts which had lingered with him so long. Whilethus reduced, his few surviving senses were at once called into acuteactivity by the appearance of a sooty little negro, who thrust into hishands a misshapen fold of dirty paper, which a near examination made outto take the form of a letter. 

"Why, what the d----l, d----d sort of fist is this you've given me, youbird of blackness! where got you this vile scrawl?--faugh! you've had itin your jaws, you raven, have you not?"

The terrified urchin retreated a few paces while answering the inquiry. 

"No, mass lawyer--de pedler--da him gib um to me so. I bring um straightas he gib um. "

"The pedler! why, where is he?--what the devil can he have to writeabout?" was the universal exclamation. 

"The pedler!" said the lawyer, and his sobriety grew strengthened at thethought of business; he called to the waiter and whispered in his ears--

"Hark ye, cuffee; go bring out the pedler's horse, saddle him with mysaddle which lies in the gallery, bring him to the tree, and, look ye, make no noise about it, you scoundrel, as you value your ears. "

Cuffee was gone on his mission--and the whole assembly aroused by thename of the pedler and the mysterious influence of the communicationupon the lawyer, gathered, with inquiries of impatience, around him. Finding him slow, they clamored for the contents of the epistle, and theroute of the writer--neither of which did he seem desirous tocommunicate. His evasions and unwillingness were all in vain, and he wasat length compelled to undertake the perusal of the scrawl; a task hewould most gladly have avoided in their presence. He was in doubt andfear. What could the pedler have to communicate, on paper, which mightnot have been left over for their interview? His mind was troubled, and, pushing the crowd away from immediately about him, he tore open theenvelope and began the perusal--proceeding with a measured gait, theresult as well of the "damned cramp hand" as of the still foggyintellect and unsettled vision of the reader. But as the characters andtheir signification became more clear and obvious to his gaze, hisfeatures grew more and more sobered and intelligent--a blanknessoverspread his face--his hands trembled, and finally, his apprehensions, whatever they might have been, having seemingly undergone fullconfirmation, he crumpled the villanous scrawl in his hands, and dashingit to the floor in a rage, roared out in quick succession volley aftervolley of invective and denunciation upon the thrice-blasted head of thepedler. The provocation must have been great, no doubt, to impart suchanimation at such a time to the man of law; and the curiosity of one ofthe revellers getting the better of his scruples in such matters--if, indeed, scruples of any kind abode in such a section--prompting him toseize upon the epistle thus pregnant with mortal matter, in this way thewhole secret became public property. As, therefore, we shall violate noconfidence, and shock no decorum, we proceed to read it aloud for thebenefit of all:--

 "DEAR LAWYER: I guess I am pretty safe now from the _regilators_, and, saving my trouble of mind, well enough, and nothing to complain about. Your animal goes as slick as grease, and carried me in no time out of reach of rifle-shot--so you see it's only right to thank God, and you, lawyer, for if you hadn't lent me the nag, I guess it would have been a sore chance for me in the hands of them savages and beasts of prey. 

 "I've been thinking, lawyer, as I driv along, about what you said to me, and I guess it's no more than right and reasonable I should take the law on 'em; and so I put the case in your hands, to make the most on it; and seeing that the damages, as you say, may be over five hundred dollars, why, I don't see but the money is jest as good in my hands as theirs, for so it ought to be. The bill of particulars I will send you by post. In the meanwhile, you may say, having something to go upon, that the whole comes to five hundred and fifty dollars or thereabouts, for, with a little calculation and figering, I guess it won't be hard to bring it up to that. This don't count the vally of the cart, for, as I made it myself, it didn't cost me much; but, if you put it in the bill, which I guess you ought to, put it down for twenty dollars more--seeing that, if I can't trade for one somehow, I shall have to give something like that for another. 

 "And now, lawyer, there's one thing--I don't like to be in the reach of them 'ere regilators, and guess 'twouldn't be altogether the wisest to stop short of fifteen miles to-night: so, therefore, you see, it won't be in my way, no how, to let you have your nag, which is a main fine one, and goes slick as a whistle--pretty much as if he and the wagon was made for one another; but this, I guess, will be no difference to you, seeing that you can pay yourself his vally out of the damages. I'm willing to allow you one hundred dollars for him, though he a'n't worth so much, no how; and the balance of the money you can send to me, or my brother, in the town of Meriden, in the state of Connecticut. So no more, dear lawyer, at this writing, from

 "Your very humble sarvant "to command, &c. "

The dismay of the attorney was only exceeded by the chagrin with whichhe perceived his exposure, and anticipated the odium in consequence. Heleaped about the hall, among the company, in a restless paroxysm--nowdenouncing the pedler, now deprecating their dissatisfaction at findingout the double game which he had been playing. The trick of the runawayalmost gave him a degree of favor in their eyes, which did not find muchdiminution when Pippin, rushing forth from the apartment, encountered anew trial in the horse left him by the pedler; the miserable beast beingcompletely ruined, unable to move a step, and more dead than alive. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

NEW FRIENDS IN STRANGE PLACES. 

Ralph opened his eyes at a moderately late hour on the ensuing morning, and found Forrester in close attendance. He felt himself somewhat sorefrom his bruises in falling, but the wound gave him little concern. Indeed, he was scarcely conscious of it. He had slept well, and was notunwilling to enter into the explanatory conversation which the woodmanbegan. From him he learned the manner and situation in which he had beenfound, and was furnished with a partial history of his presentwhereabouts. In return, he gave a particular account of the assault madeupon him in the wood, and of his escape; all of which, already known tothe reader, will call for no additional details. In reply to theunscrupulous inquiry of Forrester, the youth, with as little hesitation, declared himself to be a native of the neighboring state of SouthCarolina, born in one of its middle districts, and now on his way toTennessee. He concluded with giving his name. 

"Colleton, Colleton, " repeated the other, as if reviving somerecollection of old time--"why, 'squire, I once knew a whole family ofthat name in Carolina. I'm from Carolina myself, you must know. Therewas an old codger--a fine, hearty buck--old Ralph Colleton--ColonelRalph, as they used to call him. He did have a power of money, and asmart chance of lands and field-niggers; but they did say he was goingbehindhand, for he didn't know how to keep what he had. He was alwaysbuying, and living large; but that can't last for ever. I saw him firstat a muster. I was then just eighteen, and went out with the rest, forthe first time. Maybe, 'squire, I didn't take the rag off the bush thatday. I belonged to Captain Williams's troop, called the 'Bush-Whackers. 'We were all fine-looking fellows, though I say it myself. I was nochicken, I tell you. From that day, Mark Forrester wrote himself down'_man_' And well he might, 'squire, and no small one neither. Six feetin stocking-foot, sound in wind and limb--could outrun, outjump, outwrestle, outfight, and outdo anyhow, any lad of my inches in thewhole district. There was Tom Foster, that for five long years countedhimself cock of the walk, and crowed like a chicken whenever he came outupon the ground. You never saw Tom, I reckon, for he went off toMississippi after I sowed him up. He couldn't stand it any longer, sinceit was no use, I licked him in sich short order: he wasn't a mouthful. After that, the whole ground was mine; nobody could stand before me, 'squire; though now the case may be different, for Sumter's a destrict, 'squire, that a'n't slow at raising game chickens. "

At the close of this rambling harangue, Mark Forrester, as we may now bepermitted to call him, looked down upon his own person with no smallshare of complacency. He was still, doubtless, all the man he boastedhimself to have been; his person, as we have already briefly describedit, offering, as well from its bulk and well-distributed muscle as fromits perfect symmetry, a fine model for the statuary. After theindulgence of a few moments in this harmless egotism, he returned to thepoint, as if but now recollected, from which he set out. 

"Well, then, Master Colleton, as I was saying, 'twas at this same musterthat I first saw the 'squire. He was a monstrous clever old buck now, Itell you. Why, he thought no more of money than if it growed in hisplantation--he almost throwed it away for the people to scramble after. That very day, when the muster was over, he called all the boys up toEben Garratt's tavern, and told old Eben to set the right stuff afloat, and put the whole score down to him. Maybe old Eben didn't take him athis word. Eben was a cunning chap, quite Yankee-like, and would skin hisshadow for a saddle-back, I reckon, if he could catch it. I tell youwhat, when the crop went to town, the old 'squire must have had a mightysmart chance to pay; for, whatever people might say of old Eben, he knewhow to calculate from your pocket into his with monstrous sartainty. Well, as I was saying, 'squire, I shouldn't be afraid to go you a alittle bet that old Ralph Colleton is some kin of your'n. You're both ofthe same stock, I reckon. "

"You are right in your conjecture, " replied the youth; "the person ofwhom you speak was indeed a near relative of mine--he was no other thanmy father. "

"There, now--I could have said as much, for you look for all the worldas if you had come out of his own mouth. There is a trick of the eyewhich I never saw in any but you two; and even if you had not told meyour name, I should have made pretty much the same calculation aboutyou. The old 'squire, if I rightly recollect, was something stiff in hisway, and some people did say he was proud, and carried himself ratherhigh; but, for my part, I never saw any difference 'twixt him and mostof our Carolina gentlemen, who, you know, generally walk pretty high inthe collar, and have no two ways about them. For that matter, however, Icouldn't well judge then; I may have been something too young to say, for certain, what was what, at that time of my life. "

"You are not even now so far advanced in years, Mr. Forrester, that youspeak of your youth as of a season so very remote. What, I pray, may beyour age? We may ask, without offence, such a question of men: the casewhere the other sex is concerned is, you are aware, somethingdifferent. "

The youth seemed studiously desirous of changing the direction of thedialogue. 

"Man or woman, I see, for my part, no harm in the question. But do callme Forrester, or Mark Forrester, whichever pleases you best, and notmister, as you just now called me. I go by no other name. Mister is agreat word, and moves people quite too far off from one another. I neverhave any concern with a man that I have to mister and sir. I call them'squire because that's a title the law gives them; and when I speak toyou, I say 'squire, or Master Colleton. You may be a 'squire yourself, but whether you are or are not, it makes no difference, for you get thename from your father, who is. Then, ag'in, I call you master--because, you see, you are but a youth, and have a long run to overtake my years, few as you may think them. Besides, master is a friendly word, and comeseasy to the tongue. I never, for my part, could see the sense in mister, except when people go out to fight, when it's necessary to do everythinga little the politest; and, then, it smells of long shot and coldbusiness, 'squire. 'Tisn't, to my mind, a good word among friends. "

The youth smiled slightly at the distinction drawn with such nicety byhis companion, between words which he had hitherto been taught toconceive synonymous, or nearly so; and the reasons, such as they were, by which the woodman sustained his free use of the one to the utterrejection of the other. He did not think it important, however, to makeup an issue on the point, though dissenting from the logic of hiscompanion; and contented himself simply with a repetition of thequestion in which it had originated. 

"Why, I take shame to answer you rightly, 'squire, seeing I am no wiserand no better than I am; but the whole secret of the matter lies in thehandle of this little hatchet, and this I made out of a live-oak saplingsome sixteen years ago--It's much less worn than I, yet I am twice itsage, I reckon. "

"You are now then about thirty-two?"

"Ay, just thirty-two. It don't take much calculating to make out that. My own schooling, though little enough for a large man, is more thanenough to keep me from wanting help at such easy arithmetic. "

With the exception of an occasional and desultory remark or two, theconversation had reached a close. The gravity--the almost haughtymelancholy which, at intervals, appeared the prevailing characteristicof the manners and countenance of the youth, served greatly todiscourage even the blunt freedom of Mark Forrester, who seemed piquedat length by the unsatisfactory issue of all his endeavors to enlist thefamiliarity and confidence of his companion. This Ralph soon discovered. He had good sense and feeling enough to perceive the necessity of somealteration in his habit, if he desired a better understanding with onewhose attendance, at the present time, was not only unavoidable butindispensable--one who might be of use, and who was not only willing andwell-intentioned, but to all appearance honest and harmless, and to whomhe was already so largely indebted. With an effort, therefore, not somuch of mind as of mood, he broke the ice which his own indifference hadsuffered to close, and by giving a legitimate excuse for the garrulityof his companion, unlocked once more the treasurehouse of his good-humorand volubility. 

From the dialogue thus recommenced, we are enabled to take a fartherglance into the history of Forrester's early life. He was, as he phrasedit, from "old So. Ca. " pronouncing the name of the state in the abridgedform of its written contraction. In one of the lower districts he stillheld, in fee, a small but inefficient patrimony; the profits of whichwere put to the use of a young sister. Times, however, had grown hard, and with the impatience and restlessness so peculiar to nearly allclasses of the people of that state, Mark set out in pursuit of hisfortune among strangers. He loved from his childhood all hardyenterprises; all employments calculated to keep his spirit fromslumbering in irksome quiet in his breast. He had no relish for thelabors of the plough, and looked upon the occupation of his forefathersas by no means fitted for the spirit which, with little besides, theyhad left him. The warmth, excitability, and restlessness which were hisprevailing features of temper, could not bear the slow process oftilling, and cultivating the earth--watching the growth and generationsof pigs and potatoes, and listening to that favorite music with thestaid and regular farmer, the shooting of the corn in the still nights, as it swells with a respiring movement, distending the contractedsheaves which enclose it. In addition to this antipathy to the pursuitsof his ancestors, Mark had a decided desire, a restless ambition, prompting him to see, and seek, and mingle with the world. He was fond, as our readers may have observed already, of his own eloquence, andhaving worn out the patience and forfeited the attention of all auditorsat home, he was compelled, in order to the due appreciation of hisfaculties, to seek for others less experienced abroad. Like wiser andgreater men, he, too, had been won away, by the desire of rule andreference, from the humble quiet of his native fireside; and if, inafter life, he did not bitterly repent of the folly, it was because ofthat light-hearted and sanguine temperament which never deserted himquite, and supported him in all events and through every vicissitude. Hehad wandered much after leaving his parental home, and was now engagedin an occupation and pursuit which our future pages must develop. Havingnarrated, in his desultory way to his companion, the facts which we havecondensed, he conceived himself entitled to some share of thatconfidence of which he had himself exhibited so fair an example; and thecross-examination which followed did not vary very materially from thatto which most wayfarers in this region are subjected, and of which, onmore than one occasion, they have been heard so vociferously tocomplain. 

"Well, Master Ralph--unless my eyes greatly miscalculate, you cannot bemore than nineteen or twenty at the most; and if one may be so bold, what is it that brings one of your youth and connections abroad intothis wilderness, among wild men and wild beasts, and we gold-hunters, whom men do say are very little, if any, better than them?"

"Why, as respects your first conjecture, Forrester, " returned the youth, "you are by no means out of the way. I am not much over twenty, and amfree to confess, do not care to be held much older. Touching yourfurther inquiry, not to seem churlish, but rather to speak frankly andin a like spirit with yourself, I am not desirous to repeat to othersthe story that has been, perhaps, but learned in part by myself. I donot exactly believe that it would promote my plans to submit my affairsto the examination of other people; nor do I think that any personwhomsoever would be very much benefited by the knowledge. You seem tohave forgotten, however, that I have already said that I am journeyingto Tennessee. "

"Left Carolina for good and all, heh?"

"Yes--perhaps for ever. But we will not talk of it. "

"Well, you're in a wild world now, 'squire. "

"This is no strange region to me, though I have lost my way in it. Ihave passed a season in the county of Gwinnett and the neighborhood, with my uncle's family, when something younger, and have passed, twice, journeying between Carolina and Tennessee, at no great distance fromthis very spot. But your service to me, and your Carolina birth, deserves that I should be more free in my disclosures; and to accountfor the sullenness of my temper, which you may regard as somethinginconsistent with our relationship, let me say, that whatever myprospects might have been, and whatever my history may be, I am at thismoment altogether indifferent as to the course which I shall pursue. Itmatters not very greatly to me whether I take up my abode among theneighboring Cherokees, or, farther on, along with them, pursue myfortunes upon the shores of the Red river or the Missouri. I havebecome, during the last few days of my life, rather reckless of humancircumstance, and, perhaps, more criminally indifferent to thenecessities of my nature, and my responsibilities to society and myself, than might well beseem one so youthful, and, as you say, with prospectslike those which you conjecture, and not erroneously, to have been mine. All I can say is, that, when I lost my way last evening, my firstfeeling was one of a melancholy satisfaction; for it seemed to me thatdestiny itself had determined to contribute towards my aim and desire, and to forward me freely in the erratic progress, which, in a gloomymood, I had most desperately and, perhaps, childishly undertaken. "

There was a stern melancholy in the deep and low utterance--the closecompression of lip--the steady, calm eye of the youth, that somewhattended to confirm the almost savage sentiment of despairing indifferenceto life, which his sentiments conveyed; and had the effect of elicitinga larger degree of respectful consideration from the somewhat uncouthbut really well-meaning and kind companion who stood beside him. Forrester had good sense enough to perceive that Ralph had been gentlynurtured and deferentially treated--that his pride or vanity, or perhapssome nobler emotion, had suffered slight or rebuke; and that it was morethan probable this emotion would, before long, give place to others, ifnot of a more manly and spirited, at least of a more subdued andreasonable character. Accordingly, without appearing to attach anyimportance to, or even to perceive the melancholy defiance contained inthe speech of the young man, he confined himself entirely to a passingcomment upon the facility with which, having his eyes open, and thebright sunshine and green trees for his guides, he had suffered himselfto lose his way--an incident excessively ludicrous in the contemplationof one, who, in his own words, could take the tree with the 'possum, thescent with the hound, the swamp with the deer, and be in at the deathwith all of them--for whom the woods had no labyrinth and the night nomystery. He laughed heartily at the simplicity of the youth, and enteredinto many details, not so tedious as long, of the various hairbreadthescapes, narrow chances, and curious enterprises of his own initiationinto the secrets of wood-craft, and to the trials and perils of which, in his own probation, his experience had necessarily subjected him. Atlength he concluded his narrative by seizing upon one portion of Ralph'slanguage with an adroitness and ingenuity that might have done credit toan older diplomatist; and went on to invite the latter to quarter uponhimself for a few weeks at least. 

"And now Master Colleton, as you are rambling, as you say, indifferentquite as to what quarter you turn the head of your creature--suppose nowyou take up lodgings with me. I have, besides this room, which I onlykeep for my use of a Saturday and Sunday when I come to the village--asnug place a few miles off, and there's room enough, and provisionsenough, if you'll only stop a while and take what's going. Plenty of hogand hominy at all times, and we don't want for other and better things, if we please. Come, stay with me for a month, or more, if you choose, and when you think to go, I can put you on your road at an hour'swarning. In the meantime, I can show you all that's to be seen. I canshow you where the gold grows, and may be had for the gathering. We'vesnug quarters for the woods, plenty of venison; and, as you must be agood shot coming from Carolina, you may bring down at day-dawn of amorning a sluggish wild turkey, so fat that he will split open themoment he strikes the ground. Don't fight shy, now, 'squire, and we'llhave sport just so long as you choose to stay with us. "

The free and hearty manner of the woodman, who, as he concluded hisinvitation, grasped the hand of the youth warmly in his own, spoke quiteas earnestly as his language; and Ralph, in part, fell readily into aproposal which promised something in the way of diversion. He gaveForrester to understand that he would probably divide his time for a fewdays between the tavern and his lodge, which he proposed to visitwhenever he felt himself perfectly able to manage his steed. Hesignified his acknowledgment of the kindness of his companion withsomething less of hauteur than had hitherto characterized him; and, remembering that, on the subject of the assault made upon him, Forresterhad said little, and that too wandering to be considered, he againbrought the matter up to his consideration, and endeavored to find aclue to the persons of the outlaws, whom he endeavored to describe. 

On this point, however, he procured but little satisfaction. Thedescription which he gave of the individual assailant whom alone he hadbeen enabled to distinguish, though still evidently under certaindisguises, was not sufficient to permit of Forrester's identification. The woodman was at a loss, though evidently satisfied that the partieswere not unknown to him in some other character. As for the Pony Club, he gave its history, confirming that already related by the outlawhimself; and while avowing his own personal fearlessness on the subject, did not withhold his opinion that the members were not to be trifledwith:--

"And, a word in your ear, 'squire--one half of the people you meet within this quarter know a leetle more of this same Pony Club than isaltogether becoming in honest men. So mind that you look about you, right and left, with a sharp eye, and be ready to let drive with a quickhand. Keep your tongue still, at the same time that you keep your eyesopen, for there's no knowing what devil's a listening when a poor weaksinner talks. The danger's not in the open daylight, but in the dark. There's none of them that will be apt to square off agin you whileyou're here; for they knew that, though we've got a mighty mixed nest, there's some honest birds in it. There's a few of us here, always readyto see that a man has fair play, and that's a sort of game that a scampnever likes to take a hand in. There's quite enough of us, when ascalp's in danger, who can fling a knife and use a trigger with thebest, and who won't wait to be asked twice to a supper of cold steel. Only you keep cool, and wide awake, and you'll have friends enoughalways within a single whoop. But, good night now. I must go and lookafter our horses. I'll see you soon--I reckon a leetle sooner than youcare to see me. "

Ralph Colleton good humoredly assured him that could not the case, andwith friendly gripe of the hand, they parted. 

CHAPTER IX. 

MORE OF THE DRAMATIS PERSONÆ. 

In a few days, so much for the proper nursing of Mark Forrester, and ofthe _soi-disant medico_ of the village, Ralph Colleton was able to makehis appearance below, and take his place among the _habitués_ of thehotel. His wound, slight at first, was fortunate in simple treatment andin his own excellent constitution. His bruises gave him infinitely moreconcern, and brought him more frequent remembrances of the adventure inwhich they were acquired. A stout frame and an eager spirit, impatientof restraint, soon enabled our young traveller to conquer much of thepain and inconvenience which his hurts gave him, proving how much thegood condition of the physical man depends upon the will. He liftedhimself about in five days as erectly as if nothing had occurred, andwas just as ready for supper, as if he had never once known the loss ofappetite. Still he was tolerably prudent and did not task nature toounreasonably. His exercises were duly moderated, so as not to irritateanew his injuries. Forrester was a rigid disciplinarian, and it was onlyon the fifth day after his arrival, and after repeated entreaties of hispatient, in all of which he showed himself sufficiently _impatient_, that the honest woodman permitted him to descend to the dinner-table ofthe inn, in compliance with the clamorous warning of the huge bell whichstood at the entrance. 

The company at the dinner-table was somewhat less numerous than thatassembled in the great hall at the trial of the pedler. Many of thepersons then present were not residents, but visiters in the villagefrom the neighboring country. They had congregated there, as was usuallythe case, on each Saturday of the week, with the view not less to theprocuring of their necessaries, than the enjoyment of good company. Having attended in the first place to the ostensible objects of theirvisit, the village tavern, in the usual phrase, "brought them up;" andin social, yet wild carousal, they commonly spent the residue of theday. It was in this way that they met their acquaintance--found society, and obtained the news; objects of primary importance, at all times, witha people whose insulated positions, removed from the busy mart and thestirring crowd, left them no alternative but to do this or rustaltogether. The regular lodgers of the tavern were not numeroustherefore, and consisted in the main of those laborers in the diggingswho had not yet acquired the means of establishing households of theirown. 

There was little form or ceremony in the proceedings of the repast. Colleton was introduced by a few words from the landlord to thelandlady, Mrs. Dorothy Munro, and to a young girl, her niece, who satbeside her. It does not need that we say much in regard to theformer--she interferes with no heart in our story; but Lucy, the niece, may not be overlooked so casually. She has not only attractions inherself which claim our notice, but occupies no minor interest in thestory we propose to narrate. Her figure was finely formed, slight anddelicate, but neither diminutive nor feeble--of fair proportionsymmetry, and an ease and grace of carriage and manner belonging to afar more refined social organization than that in which we find her. Butthis is easily accounted for; and the progress of our tale will save usthe trouble of dwelling farther upon it now. Her skin, though slightlytinged by the sun, was beautifully smooth and fair. Her features mightnot be held regular; perhaps not exactly such as in a criticalexamination we should call or consider handsome; but they wereattractive nevertheless, strongly marked, and well defined. Her eyeswere darkly blue; not languishingly so, but on the contrary ratherlively and intelligent in their accustomed expression. Her mouth, exquisitely chiselled, and colored by the deepest blushes of the rose, had a seductive persuasiveness about it that might readily win one's ownto some unconscious liberties; while the natural position of the lips, leaving them slightly parted, gave to the mouth an added attraction inthe double range which was displayed beneath of pearl-like andwell-formed teeth; her hair was unconfined, but short; and rendered theexpression of her features more youthful and girl-like than might havebeen the result of its formal arrangement--it was beautifully glossy, and of a dark brown color. 

Her demeanor was that of maidenly reserve, and a ladylike dignity, aquiet serenity, approaching--at periods, when any remark calculated toinfringe in the slightest degree upon those precincts with whichfeminine delicacy and form have guarded its possessor--a stern severityof glance, approving her a creature taught in the true school ofpropriety, and chastened with a spirit that slept not on a watch, alwaysof perilous exposure in one so young and of her sex. On more than oneoccasion did Ralph, in the course of the dinner, remark the indignantfire flashing from her intelligent eye, when the rude speech of someuntaught boor assailed a sense finely-wrought to appreciate the properboundaries to the always adventurous footstep of unbridledlicentiousness. The youth felt assured, from these occasional glimpses, that her education had been derived from a different influence, and thather spirit deeply felt and deplored the humiliation of her presentcondition and abode. 

The dinner-table, to which we now come, and which two or three negroeshave been busily employed in cumbering with well-filled plates anddishes, was most plentifully furnished; though but few of its contentscould properly be classed under the head of delicacies. There were eggsand ham, hot biscuits, hommony, milk, marmalade, venison, _Johnny_, orjourney cakes, and dried fruits stewed. These, with the preparatorysoup, formed the chief components of the repast. Everything was servedup in a style of neatness and cleanliness, that, after all, was perhapsthe best of all possible recommendations to the feast; and Ralph soonfound himself quite as busily employed as was consistent with prudence, in the destruction and overthrow of the tower of biscuits, the pile ofeggs, and such other of the edibles around him as were least likely toprove injurious to his debilitated system. 

The table was not large, and the seats were soon occupied. Villagerafter villager had made his appearance and taken his place withoutcalling for observation; and, indeed, so busily were all employed, thathe who should have made his _entrée_ at such a time with an emphasiscommanding notice, might, not without reason, have been set down astruly and indefensibly impertinent. So might one have thought, notemployed in like manner, and simply surveying the prospect. 

Forrester alone contrived to be less selfish than those about him, andour hero found his attentions at times rather troublesome. Whatever inthe estimation of the woodman seemed attractive, he studiously thrustinto the youth's plate, pressing him to eat. Chancing, at one of theseperiods of polite provision on the part of his friend, to direct hisglance to the opposite extreme of the table, he was struck with theappearance of a man whose eyes were fixed upon himself with anexpression which he could not comprehend and did not relish. The look ofthis man was naturally of a sinister kind, but now his eyes wore amalignant aspect, which not only aroused the youth's indignant retortthrough the same medium, but struck him as indicating a feeling ofhatred to himself of a most singular character. Meeting the look of theyouth, the stranger rose hurriedly and left the table, but stilllingered in the apartment. Ralph was struck with his features, which itappeared to him he had seen before, but as the person wore around hischeeks, encompassing his head, a thick handkerchief, it was impossiblefor him to decide well upon them. He turned to Forrester, who was busilyintent upon the dissection of a chicken, and in a low tone inquired thename of the stranger. The woodman looked up and replied--

"Who that?--that's Guy Rivers; though what he's got his head tied upfor, I can't say. I'll ask him;" and with the word, he did so. 

In answer to the question, Rivers explained his bandaging by charginghis jaws to have caught cold rather against his will, and to haveswelled somewhat in consequence. While making this reply, Ralph againcaught his glance, still curiously fixed upon himself, with anexpression which again provoked his surprise, and occasioned a gatheringsternness in the look of fiery indignation which he sent back in return. 

Rivers, immediately after this by-play, left the apartment. The eye ofRalph changing its direction, beheld that of the young maiden observinghim closely, with an expression of countenance so anxious, that he feltpersuaded she must have beheld the mute intercourse, if so we may callit, between himself and the person whose conduct had so ruffled him. Thecolor had fled from her cheek, and there was something of warning in hergaze. The polish and propriety which had distinguished her manners sofar as he had seen, were so different from anything that he had been ledto expect, and reminded him so strongly of another region, that, risingfrom the table, he approached the place where she sat, took a chairbeside her, and with a gentleness and ease, the due result of his owneducation and of the world he had lived in, commenced a conversationwith her, and was pleased to find himself encountered by a modestfreedom of opinion, a grace of thought, and a general intelligence, which promised him better company than he had looked for. The villagershad now left the apartment, all but Forrester; who, following Ralph'sexample, took up a seat beside him, and sat a pleased listener to adialogue, in which the intellectual charm was strong enough, except atvery occasional periods, to prevent him from contributing much. The oldlady sat silently by. She was a trembling, timid body, thin, pale, andemaciated, who appeared to have suffered much, and certainly stood in asmuch awe of the man whose name she bore as it was well fitting in such arelationship to permit. She said as little as Forrester, but seemedequally well pleased with the attentions and the conversation of theyouth. 

"Find you not this place lonesome, Miss Munro? You have been used, or Imistake much, to a more cheering, a more civilized region. "

"I have, sir; and sometimes I repine--not so much at the world I livein, as for the world I have lost. Had I those about me with whom myearlier years were passed, the lonely situation would trouble meslightly. "

She uttered these words with a sorrowful voice, and the moisturegathering in her eyes, gave them additional brightness. The youth, aftersome commonplace remark upon the vast difference between moral andphysical privations, went on--

"Perhaps, Miss Munro, with a true knowledge of all the conditions oflife, there may be thought little philosophy in the tears we shed atsuch privations. The fortune that is unavoidable, however, I have alwaysfound the more deplorable for that very reason. I shall have to watchwell, that I too be not surprised with regrets of a like nature withyour own, since I find myself constantly recurring, in thought, to aworld which perhaps I shall have little more to do with. "

Rising from her seat, and leaving the room as she spoke, with a smile ofstudied gayety upon her countenance, full also of earnestness and asignificance of manner that awakened surprise in the person addressed, the maiden replied--

"Let me suggest, sir, that you observe well the world you are in; and donot forget, in recurring to that which you leave, that, while deploringthe loss of friends in the one, you may be unconscious of the enemieswhich surround you in the other. Perhaps, sir, you will find myphilosophy in this particular the most useful, if not the mostagreeable. "

Wondering at her language, which, though of general remark, and fairlydeducible from the conversation, he could not avoid referring to somepeculiar origin, the youth rose, and bowed with respectful courtesy asshe retired. His eye followed her form for an instant, while hismeditations momentarily wrapped themselves up more and more ininextricable mysteries, from which his utmost ingenuity of thoughtfailed entirely to disentangle him. In a maze of conjecture he passedfrom the room into the passage adjoining, and, taking advantage of itslong range promenaded with steps, and in a spirit, equally moody anduncertain. In a little time he was joined by Forrester, who seemedsolicitous to divert his mind and relieve his melancholy, by describingthe country round, the pursuits, characters, and conditions of thepeople--the habits of the miners, and the productiveness of theiremploy, in a manner inartificial and modest, and sometimes highlyentertaining. 

While engaged in this way, the eye of Ralph caught the look of Rivers, again fixed upon him from the doorway leading into the great hall; andwithout a moment's hesitation, with impetuous step, he advanced towardshim, determined on some explanation of that curious interest which hadbecome offensive; but when he approached him with this object the latterhastily left the passage. 

Taking Forrester's arm, Ralph also left the house, in the hope toencounter this troublesome person again. But failing in this, theyproceeded to examine the village, or such portions of it as might besurveyed without too much fatigue to the wounded man--whose hurts, though superficial, might by imprudence become troublesome. They rambledtill the sun went down, and at length returned to the tavern. 

This building, as we have elsewhere said, was of the very humblestdescription, calculated, it would seem, rather for a temporary andoccasional than a lasting shelter. Its architecture, compared with thateven of the surrounding log-houses of the country generally, wasexcessively rude; its parts were out of all proportion, fitted seeminglyby an eye the most indifferent, and certainly without any, the mostdistant regard, to square and compass. It consisted of two stories, theupper being assigned to the sleeping apartments. Each floor containedfour rooms, accessible all, independently of one another, by entrancesfrom a great passage, running both above and below, through the centreof the structure. In addition to the main building, a shed in the rearof the main work afforded four other apartments, rather more closelyconstructed, and in somewhat better finish than the rest of thestructure: these were in the occupation of the family exclusively. Thelogs, in this work, were barbarously uneven, and hewn only to a degreebarely sufficient to permit of a tolerable level when placed one uponthe other. Morticed together at the ends, so very loosely had the workbeen done, that a timid observer, and one not accustomed to the surveyof such fabrics, might entertain many misgivings of its security duringone of those severe hurricanes which, in some seasons of the year, sodreadfully desolate the southern and southwestern country. Chimneys ofclay and stone intermixed, of the rudest fashion, projected from the twoends of the building, threatening, with the toppling aspect which theywore, the careless wayfarer, and leaving it something more than doubtfulwhether the oblique and outward direction which they took, was not theresult of a wise precaution against a degree of contiguity with thefabric they were meant to warm, which, from the liberal fires of thepine woods, might have proved unfavorable to the protracted existence ofeither. 

The interior of the building aptly accorded with its outline. It wasuncoiled, and the winds were only excluded from access through theinterstices between the remotely-allied logs, by the free use of thesoft clay easily attainable in all that range of country. The light oneach side of the building was received through a few small windows, oneof which only was allotted to each apartment, and this was generallyfound to possess as many modes of fastening as the jail opposite--aprecaution referable to the great dread of the Indian outrages, andwhich their near neighborhood and irresponsible and vicious habits werewell calculated to inspire. The furniture of the hotel amply accordedwith all its other features. A single large and two small tables; a fewold oaken chairs, of domestic manufacture, with bottoms made of ox ordeer skin, tightly drawn over the seat, and either tied below with smallcords or tacked upon the sides; a broken mirror, that stoodostentatiously over the mantel, surmounted in turn by a well-smokedpicture of the Washington family in a tarnished gilt frame--assertingthe Americanism of the proprietor and place--completed the contents ofthe great hall, and were a fair specimen of what might be found in allthe other apartments. The tavern itself, in reference to the obviouspursuit of many of those who made it their home, was entitled "TheGolden Egg"--a title made sufficiently notorious to the spectator, froma huge signboard, elevated some eight or ten feet above the buildingitself, bearing upon a light-blue ground a monstrous egg of the deepestyellow, the effect of which was duly heightened by a strong and thickshading of sable all round it--the artist, in this way, calculating nodoubt to afford the object so encircled its legitimate relief. Lest, however, his design in the painting itself should be at allquestionable, he had taken the wise precaution of showing what was meantby printing the words "Golden Egg" in huge Roman letters, beneath it;these, in turn, being placed above another inscription, promising"Entertainment for man and horse. "

But the night had now closed in, and coffee was in progress. Ralph tookhis seat with the rest of the lodgers, though without partaking of thefeast. Rivers did not make his appearance, much to the chagrin of theyouth, who was excessively desirous to account for the curiousobservance of this man. He had some notion, besides, that the former wasnot utterly unknown to him; for, though unable to identify him with anyone recollection, his features (what could be seen of them) werecertainly not unfamiliar. After supper, requesting Forrester's companyin his chamber, he left the company--not, however, without a fewmoments' chat with Lucy Munro and her aunt, conducted with some spiritby the former, and seemingly to the satisfaction of all. As they leftthe room, Ralph spoke:--

"I am not now disposed for sleep, Forrester, and, if you please, Ishould be glad to hear further about your village and the country atlarge. Something, too, I would like to know of this man Rivers, whoseface strikes me as one that I should know, and whose eyes have beenhaunting me to-day rather more frequently than I altogether like, orshall be willing to submit to. Give me an hour, then, if not fatigued, in my chamber, and we will talk over these matters together. "

"Well, 'squire, that's just what pleases me now. I like good company, and 'twill be more satisfaction to me, I reckon, than to you. As forfatigue, that's out of the question. Somehow or other, I never feelfatigued when I've got somebody to talk to. "

"With such a disposition, I wonder, Forrester, you have not been moreintimate with the young lady of the house. Miss Lucy seems quite anintelligent girl, well-behaved, and virtuous. "

"Why, 'squire, she is all that; but, though modest and not proud, as youmay see, yet she's a little above my mark. She is book-learned, and I amnot; and she paints, and is a musician too and has all theaccomplishments. She was an only child, and her father was quite anothersort of person from his brother who now has her in management. "

"She is an orphan, then?"

"Yes, poor girl, and she feels pretty clearly that this isn't the sortof country in which she has a right to live. I like her very well, but, as I say, she's a little above me; and, besides, you must know, 'squire, I'm rather fixed in another quarter. "

They had now reached the chamber of our hero, and the servant havingplaced the light and retired, the parties took seats, and theconversation recommenced. 

"I know not how it is, Forrester, " said the youth, "but there are fewmen whose looks I so little like, and whom I would more willingly avoid, than that man Rivers. What he is I know not--but I suspect him ofmischief. I may be doing wrong to the man, and injustice to hischaracter; but, really, his eye strikes me as singularly malicious, almost murderous; and though not apt to shrink from men at any time, itprovoked something of a shudder to-day when it met my own. He may be, and perhaps you may be able to say, whether he is a worthy person ornot; for my part, I should only regard him as one to be watchedjealously and carefully avoided. There is something creepingly malignantin the look which shoots out from his glance, like that of therattlesnake, when coiled and partially concealed in the brake. When Ilooked upon his eye, as it somewhat impertinently singled me out forobservation, I almost felt disposed to lift my heel as if the venomousreptile were crawling under it. "

"You are not the only one, 'squire, that's afraid of Guy Rivers. "

"Afraid of him! you mistake me, Forrester; I fear no man, " replied theyouth, somewhat hastily interrupting the woodman. "I am not apt to fear, and certainly have no such feeling in regard to this person. I distrust, and would avoid him, merely as one who, while possessing none of thebeauty, may yet have many of the propensities and some of the poison ofthe snake to which I likened him. "

"Well, 'squire, I didn't use the right word, that's certain, when I saidafraid, you see; because 'tan't in Carolina and Georgia, and hereabouts, that men are apt to get frightened at trifles. But, as you say, GuyRivers is not the right kind of man, and everybody here knows it, andkeeps clear of him. None cares to say much to him, except when it's amatter of necessity, and then they say as little as may be. Nobody knowsmuch about him--he is here to-day and gone to-morrow--and we never seemuch of him except when there's some mischief afoot. He is thick withMunro, and they keep together at all times, I believe. He has money, andknows how to spend it. Where he gets it is quite another thing. "

"What can be the source of the intimacy between himself and Munro? Is heinterested in the hotel?"

"Why, I can't say for that, but I think not. The fact is, the tavern isnothing to Munro; he don't care a straw about it, and some among us dowhisper that he only keeps it a-going as a kind of cover for otherpractices. There's no doubt that they drive some trade together, thoughwhat it is I can't say, and never gave myself much trouble to inquire. Ican tell you what, though, there's no doubt on my mind that he's tryingto get Miss Lucy--they say he's fond of her--but I know for myself shehates and despises him, and don't stop to let him see it. "

"She will not have him, then, you think?"

"I know she won't if she can help it. But, poor girl, what can she do?She's at the mercy, as you may see, of Munro, who is her father'sbrother; and he don't care a straw for her likes or dislikes. If he saysthe word, I reckon she can have nothing to say which will help her outof the difficulty. I'm sure he won't regard prayers, or tears, or any ofher objections. "

"It's a sad misfortune to be forced into connection with one in whom wemay not confide--whom we can have no sympathy with--whom we can notlove!"

"'Tis so, 'squire; and that's just her case, and she hates to see thevery face of him, and avoids him whenever she can do so without givingoffence to her uncle, who, they say, has threatened her bitterly aboutthe scornful treatment which she shows him. It's a wonder to me how anyperson, man or woman, can do otherwise than despise the fellow; for, look you, 'squire, over and above his sulky, sour looks, and his haughtyconduct, would you believe it, he won't drink himself, yet he's alwaysfor getting other people drunk. But that's not all: he's a quarrelsome, spiteful, sore-headed chap, that won't do as other people. He neverlaughs heartily like a man, but always in a half-sniffling sort ofmanner that actually makes me sick at my stomach. Then, he never playsand makes merry along with us, and, if he does, harm is always sure, somehow or other, to come of it. When other people dance and frolic, hestands apart, with scorn in his face, and his black brows gatheringclouds in such a way, that he would put a stop to all sport if peoplewere only fools enough to mind him. For my part, I take care to havejust as little to say to him as possible, and he to me, indeed; for heknows me just as well as I know him: and he knows, too, that if he onlydared to crook his finger, I'm just the man that would mount him on thespot. "

Ralph could not exactly comprehend the force of some of the objectionsurged by his companion to the character of Rivers: those, in particular, which described his aversion to the sports common to the people, onlyindicated a severer temper of mind and habit, and, though rather in badtaste, were certainly not criminal. Still there was enough to confirmhis own hastily-formed suspicions of this person, and to determine himmore fully upon a circumspect habit while in his neighborhood. He sawthat his dislike and doubt were fully partaken of by those who, fromcircumstance and not choice, were his associates; and feltsatisfied--though, as we have seen, without the knowledge of any oneparticular which might afford a reasonable warranty for hisantipathy--that a feeling so general as Forrester described it could notbe altogether without foundation. He felt assured, by an innateprediction of his own spirit, unuttered to his companion, that, at someperiod, he should find his anticipations of this man's guilt fullyrealized; though, at that moment, he did not dream that he himself, inbecoming his victim, should furnish to his own mind an almostirrefutable argument in support of that incoherent notion of relativesympathies and antipathies to which he had already, seemingly, givenhimself up. 

The dialogue, now diverted to other topics, was not much longerprotracted. The hour grew late, and the shutting up of the house, andthe retiring of the family below, warned Forrester of the propriety ofmaking his own retreat to the little cabin in which he lodged. He shookRalph's hand warmly, and, promising to see him at an early hour of themorning, took his departure. A degree of intimacy, rather inconsistentwith our youth's wonted haughtiness of habit, had sprung up betweenhimself and the woodman--the result, doubtless, on the part of theformer, of the loneliness and to him novel character of his situation. He was cheerless and melancholy, and the association of a warm, well-meaning spirit had something consolatory in it. He thought too, andcorrectly, that, in the mind and character of Forrester, he discovered alarge degree of sturdy, manly simplicity, and a genuine honesty--coloreddeeply with prejudices and without much polish, it is true, but highlysusceptible of improvement, and by no means stubborn or unreasonable intheir retention. He could not but esteem the possessor of suchcharacteristics, particularly when shown in such broad contrast withthose of his associates; and, without any other assurance of theirpossession by Forrester than the sympathies already referred to, he wasnot unwilling to recognise their existence in his person. That he camefrom the same part of the world with himself may also have had itseffect--the more particularly, indeed, as the pride of birthplace wasevidently a consideration with the woodman, and the praises of Carolinawere rung, along with his own, in every variety of change through almostall his speeches. 

The youth sat musing for some time after the departure of Forrester. Hewas evidently employed in chewing the cud of sweet and bitter thought, and referring to memories deeply imbued with the closely-associatedtaste of both these extremes. After a while, the weakness of heart gotseemingly the mastery, long battled with; and tearing open his vest, hedisplayed the massive gold chain circling his bosom in repeated folds, upon which hung the small locket containing Edith's and his ownminiature. Looking over his shoulder, as he gazed upon it, we areenabled to see the fair features of that sweet young girl, just enteringher womanhood--her rich, brown, streaming hair, the cheek delicatelypale, yet enlivened with a southern fire, that seems not improperlyborrowed from the warm eyes that glisten above it. The ringlets gatherin amorous clusters upon her shoulder, and half obscure a neck and bosomof the purest and most polished ivory. The artist had caught from hissubject something of inspiration, and the rounded bust seemed to heavebefore the sight, as if impregnated with the subtlest and sweetest life. The youth carried the semblance to his lips, and muttered words of loveand reproach so strangely intermingled and in unison, that, could shehave heard to whom they were seemingly addressed, it might have beendifficult to have determined the difference of signification betweenthem. Gazing upon it long, and in silence, a large but solitary teargathered in his eye, and finally finding its way through his fingers, rested upon the lovely features that appeared never heretofore to havebeen conscious of a cloud. As if there had been something of impiety andpollution in this blot upon so fair an outline, he hastily brushed thetear away; then pressing the features again to his lips, he hurried thejewelled token again into his bosom, and prepared himself for thoseslumbers upon which we forbear longer to intrude. 

CHAPTER X. 

THE BLACK DOG. 

While this brief scene was in progress in the chamber of Ralph, another, not less full of interest to that person, was passing in theneighborhood of the village-tavern; and, as this portion of ournarrative yields some light which must tend greatly to our own, and theinstruction of the reader, we propose briefly to record it. It will beremembered, that, in the chapter preceding, we found the attention ofthe youth forcibly attracted toward one Guy Rivers--an attention, theresult of various influences, which produced in the mind of the youth adegree of antipathy toward that person for which he himself could not, nor did we seek to account. 

It appears that Ralph was not less the subject of consideration with theindividual in question. We have seen the degree and kind of espionagewhich the former had felt at one time disposed to resent; and how he wasdefeated in his design by the sudden withdrawal of the obnoxiouspresence. On his departure with Forrester from the gallery, Riversreappeared--his manner that of doubt and excitement; and, after hurryingfor a while with uncertain steps up and down the apartment, he passedhastily into the adjoining hall, where the landlord sat smoking, drinking, and expatiating at large with his guests. Whispering somethingin his ear, the latter rose, and the two proceeded into the adjoiningcopse, at a point as remote as possible from hearing, when theexplanation of this mysterious caution was opened by Rivers. 

"Well, Munro, we are like to have fine work with your accursed andblundering good-nature. Why did you not refuse lodgings to thisyoungster? Are you ignorant who he is? Do you not know him?"

"Know him?--no, I know nothing about him. He seems a clever, good-looking lad, and I see no harm in him. What is it frightens you?"was the reply and inquiry of the landlord. 

"Nothing frightens me, as you know by this time, or should know atleast. But, if you know not the young fellow himself you shouldcertainly not be at a loss to know the creature he rides; for it is notlong since your heart was greatly taken with him. He is the youth we setupon at the Catcheta pass, where your backwardness and my forwardnessgot me this badge--it has not yet ceased to bleed--the marks of whichpromise fairly to last me to my grave. "

As he spoke he raised the handkerchief which bound his cheeks, andexposed to view a deep gash, not of a serious character indeed, butwhich, as the speaker asserted, would most probably result in a markwhich would last him his life. The exposure of the face confirms thefirst and unfavorable impression which we have already received from hisappearance, and all that we have any occasion now to add in this respectwill be simply, that, though not beyond the prime of life, there wereages of guilt, of vexed and vexatious strife, unregulated pride, withoutaim or elevation, a lurking malignity, and hopeless discontent--allembodied in the fiendish and fierce expression which that single glimpsedeveloped to the spectator. He went on--

"Had it been your lot to be in my place, I should not now have to tellyou who he is; nor should we have had any apprehensions of his crossingour path again. But so it is. You are always the last to yourplace;--had you kept your appointment, we should have had no difficulty, and I should have escaped the mortification of being foiled by a merestripling, and almost stricken to death by the heel of his horse. "

"And all your own fault and folly, Guy. What business had you to advanceupon the fellow, as you did, before everything was ready, and when wecould have brought him, without any risk whatever; into the snare, fromwhich nothing could have got him out? But no! You must be at your oldtricks of the law--you must make speeches before you cut purses, as wasyour practice when I first knew you at Gwinnett county-court; a practicewhich you seem not able to get over. You have got into such a trick ofmaking fun of people, that, for the life of me, I can't be sorry thatthe lad has turned the tables so handsomely upon you. "

"You would no doubt have enjoyed the scene with far more satisfaction, had the fellow's shot taken its full effect on my skull--since, besidesthe failure of our object, you have such cause of merriment in what hasbeen done. If I did go something too much ahead in the matter, it is butsimple justice to say you were quite as much aback. "

"Perhaps so, Guy; but the fact is, I was right and you wrong, and thething's beyond dispute. This lesson, though a rough one, will do youservice; and a few more such will perhaps cure you of that vile trickyou have of spoiling not only your own, but the sport of others, byrunning your head into unnecessary danger; and since this youth, who gotout of the scrape so handsomely, has beat you at your own game, it maycure you of that cursed itch for tongue-trifling, upon which you so muchpride yourself. 'Twould have done, and it did very well at the countysessions, in getting men out of the wood; but as you have commenced anew business entirely, it's but well to leave off the old, particularlyas it's now your policy to get them into it. "

"I shall talk as I please, Munro, and see not why, and care not whether, my talk offends you or not. I parleyed with the youth only to keep himin play until your plans could be put in operation. "

"Very good--that was all very well, Guy--and had you kept to yourintention, the thing would have done. But he replied smartly to yourspeeches, and your pride and vanity got to work. You must answer smartlyand sarcastically in turn, and you see what's come of it. You forgot theknave in the wit; and the mistake was incurable. Why tell him that youwanted to pick his pocket, and perhaps cut his throat?"

"That was a blunder, I grant; but the fact is, I entirely mistook theman. Besides, I had a reason for so doing, which it is not necessary tospeak about now. "

"Oh, ay--it wouldn't be lawyer-like, if you hadn't a reason foreverything, however unreasonable, " was the retort. 

"Perhaps not, Munro; but this is not the matter now. Our present objectmust be to put this youth out of the way. We must silence suspicion, for, though we are pretty much beyond the operation of law in thisregion, yet now and then a sheriff's officer takes off some of the club;and, as I think it is always more pleasant to be out of the halter thanin it, I am clear for making the thing certain in the only practicableway. "

"But, are you sure that he is the man? I should know his horse, andshall look to him, for he's a fine creature, and I should like to securehim; which I think will be the case, if you are not dreaming as usual. "

"I am sure--I do not mistake. "

"Well, I'm not; and I should like to hear what it is you know him by?"

A deeper and more malignant expression overspread the face of Rivers, as, with a voice in which his thought vainly struggled for mastery witha vexed spirit, he replied:--

"What have I to know him by? you ask. I know him by many things--andwhen I told you I had my reason for talking with him as I did, I mighthave added that he was known to me, and fixed in my lasting memory, bywrongs and injuries before. But there is enough in this forrecollection, " pointing again to his cheek--"this carries with it answersufficient. You may value a clear face slightly, having known none otherthan a blotted one since you have known your own, but I have a differentfeeling in this. He has written himself here, and the damned writing isperpetually and legibly before my eyes. He has put a brand, a Cain-like, accursed brand upon my face, the language of which can not be hiddenfrom men; and yet you ask me if I know the executioner? Can I forgethim? If you think so, Munro, you know little of Guy Rivers. "

The violence of his manner as he spoke well accorded with the spirit ofwhat he said. The landlord, with much coolness and precision, replied:--

"I confess I do know but little of him, and have yet much to learn. Ifyou have so little temper in your speech, I have chosen you badly as aconfederate in employments which require so much of that quality. Thisgash, which, when healed, will be scarcely perceptible, you speak ofwith all the mortification of a young girl, to whom, indeed, such wouldbe an awful injury. How long is it, Guy, since you have become soparticularly solicitous of beauty, so proud of your face and features?"

"You will spare your sarcasm for another season, Munro, if you would nothave strife. I am not now in the mood to listen to much, even from you, in the way of sneer or censure. Perhaps, I am a child in this, but I cannot be otherwise. Besides, I discover in this youth the person of one towhom I owe much in the growth of this very hell-heart, which embitterseverything about and within me. Of this, at another time, you shall hearmore. Enough that I know this boy--that it is more than probable heknows me, and may bring us into difficulty--that I hate him, and willnot rest satisfied until we are secure, and I have my revenge. "

"Well, well, be not impatient, nor angry. Although I still doubt thatthe youth in the house is your late opponent, you may have sufferedwrong at his hands, and you may be right in your conjecture. "

"I am right--I do not conjecture. I do not so readily mistake my man, and I was quite too near him on that occasion not to see every featureof that face, which, at another and an earlier day, could come betweenme and my dearest joys--but why speak I of this? I know him: not toremember would be to forget that I am here; and that he was a part ofthat very influence which made me league, Munro, with such as you, andbecome a creature of, and a companion with, men whom even now I despise. I shall not soon forget his stern and haughty smile of scorn--his proudbearing--his lofty sentiment--all that I most admire--all that I do notpossess--and when to-day he descended to dinner, guided by that meddlingbooby, Forrester, I knew him at a glance. I should know him among tenthousand. "

"It's to be hoped that he will have no such memory. I can't see, indeed, how he should recognise either of us. Our disguises were complete. Yourwhiskers taken off, leave you as far from any resemblance to what youwere in that affair, as any two men can well be from one another; and Iam perfectly satisfied he has little knowledge of me. "

"How should he?" retorted the other. "The better part of valor saved youfrom all risk of danger or discovery alike; but the case is differentwith me. It may be that, enjoying the happiness which I have lost, hehas forgotten the now miserable object that once dared to aspire--but nomatter--it may be that I am forgotten by him--he can never be by me. "

This speech, which had something in it vague and purposeless to the mindof Munro, was uttered with gloomy emphasis, more as a soliloquy than areply, by the speaker. His hands were passed over his eyes as if inagony, and his frame seemed to shudder at some remote recollection whichhad still the dark influence upon him. Munro was a dull man in allmatters that belong to the heart, and those impulses which characterizesouls of intelligence and ambition. He observed the manner of hiscompanion, but said nothing in relation to it; and the latter, unable toconceal altogether, or to suppress even partially his emotions, did notdeign to enter into any explanation in regard to them. 

"Does he suspect anything yet, Guy, think you?--have you seen anythingwhich might sanction a thought that he knew or conjectured more than heshould?" inquired Munro, anxiously. 

"I will not say that he does, but he has the perception of a lynx--he isan apt man, and his eyes have been more frequently upon me to-day than Ialtogether relish or admire. It is true, mine were upon him--as how, indeed, if death were in the look, could I have kept them off! I caughthis glance frequently; turning upon me with that stern, stillexpression, indifferent and insolent--as if he cared not even while hesurveyed. I remember that glance three years ago, when he was indeed aboy--I remembered it when, but a few days since, he struck me to theearth, and would have ridden me to death with the hoofs of his horse, but for your timely appearance. "

"It may be as you believe, Guy; but, as I saw nothing in his manner orcountenance affording ground for such a belief, I can not but conceiveit to have been because of the activity of your suspicions that youdiscovered his. I did not perceive that he looked upon you with morecuriosity than upon any other at table; though, if he had done so, Ishould by no means have been disposed to wonder; for at this time, andsince your face has been so tightly bandaged, you have a mostvillanously attractive visage. It carries with it, though you do regardit with so much favor, a full and satisfactory reason for observance, without rendering necessary any reference to any more serious matterthan itself. On the road, I take it, he saw quite too little of eitherof us to be able well to determine what was what, or who was who, eitherthen or now. The passage was dark, our disguises good, and the long hairand monstrous whiskers which you wore did the rest. I have noapprehensions, and see not that you need have any. "

"I would not rest in this confidence--let us make sure that if he knowsanything he shall say nothing, " was the significant reply of Rivers. 

"Guy, you are too fierce and furious. When there's a necessity, do yousee, for using teeth, you know me to be always ready; but I will not befor ever at this sort of work. If I were to let you have your way you'dbring the whole country down upon us. There will be time enough when wesee a reason for it to tie up this young man's tongue. "

"I see--I see!--you are ever thus--ever risking our chance uponcontingencies when you might build strongly upon certainties. You areperpetually trying the strength of the rope, when a like trouble wouldrender it a sure hold-fast. Rather than have the possibility of thisthing being blabbed, I would--"

"Hush--hark!" said Munro, placing his hand upon the arm of hiscompanion, and drawing him deeper into the copse, at the moment thatForrester, who had just left the chamber of Ralph, emerged from thetavern into the open air. The outlaw had not placed himself within theshadow of the trees in time sufficient to escape the searching gaze ofthe woodman, who, seeing the movement and only seeing one person, leapednimbly forward with a light footstep, speaking thus as he approached:

"Hello! there--who's that--the pedler, sure. Have at you, Bunce!"seizing as he spoke the arm of the retreating figure, who briefly andsternly addressed him as follows:--

"It is well, Mr. Forrester, that he you have taken in hand is almost asquiet in temper as the pedler you mistake him for else your positionmight prove uncomfortable. Take your fingers from my arm, if youplease. "

"Oh, it's you, Guy Rivers--and you here too, Munro, making love to oneanother, I reckon, for want of better stuff. Well, who'd have thought tofind you two squatting here in the bushes! Would you believe it now, Itook you for the Yankee--not meaning any offence though. "

"As I am not the Yankee, however, Mr. Forrester, you will I suppose, withdraw your hand, " said the other, with a manner sufficiently haughtyfor the stomach of the person addressed. 

"Oh, to be sure, since you wish it, and are not the pedler, " returnedthe other, with a manner rather looking, in the country phrase, to "asquaring off for a fight"--"but you needn't be so gruff about it. Youare on business, I suppose, and so I leave you. "

"A troublesome fool, who is disposed to be insolent, " said Rivers, afterForrester's departure. 

"Damn him!" was the exclamation of the latter, on leaving the copse--"Ifeel very much like putting my fingers on his throat; and shall do it, too, before he gets better manners!"

The dialogue between the original parties was resumed. 

"I tell you again, Munro--it is not by any means the wisest policy toreckon and guess and calculate that matters will go on smoothly, when wehave it in our own power to make them certainly go on so. We must leavenothing to guess-work, and a single blow will readily teach this youththe proper way to be quiet. "

"Why, what do you drive at, Guy. What would you do--what should bedone?"

"Beef--beef--beef! mere beef! How dull you are to-night! were you in yongloomy and thick edifice (pointing to the prison which frowned inperspective before them), with irons on your hands, and with theprospect through its narrow-grated loopholes, of the gallows-tree, atevery turning before you, it might be matter of wonder even to yourselfthat you should have needed any advice by which to avoid such a risk andprospect. "

"Look you, Guy--I stand in no greater danger than yourself of theprospect of which you speak. The subject is, at best, an ugly one, and Ido not care to hear it spoken of by you, above all other people. If youwant me to talk civilly with you, you must learn yourself to keep acivil tongue in your head. I don't seek to quarrel with anybody, but Iwill not submit to be threatened with the penalties of the rogue by onewho is a damned sight greater rogue than myself. "

"You call things by their plainest names, Wat, at least, " said theother, with a tone moderated duly for the purpose of soothing down thebristles he had made to rise--"but you mistake me quite. I meant nothreat; I only sought to show you how much we were at the mercy of asingle word from a wanton and head-strong youth. I will not sayconfidently that he remembers me, but he had some opportunities forseeing my face, and looked into it closely enough. I can meet any fatewith fearlessness, but should rather avoid it, at all risks, when it'sin my power to do so. "

"You are too suspicious, quite, Guy, even for our business. I am olderthan you, and have seen something more of the world: suspicion andcaution are not the habit with young men like this. They are freeenough, and confiding enough, and in this lies our success. It is onlythe old man--the experienced in human affairs, that looks out for trapsand pitfalls. It is for the outlaw--for you and me--to suspect all; tolook with fear even upon one another, when a common interest, andperhaps a common fate, ought to bind us together. This being our habit, arising as it must from our profession, it is natural but not reasonableto refer a like spirit to all other persons. We are wrong in this, andyou are wrong in regard to this youth--not that I care to save him, forif he but looks or winks awry, I shall silence him myself, withoutspeech or stroke from you being necessary. But I do not think he madeout your features, and do not think he looked for them. He had no timefor it, after the onset, and you were well enough disguised before. Ifhe had made out anything, he would have shown it to-night; but, saving alittle stiffness, which belongs to all these young men from Carolina, Isaw nothing in his manner that looked at all out of the way. "

"Well, Munro, you are bent on having the thing as you please. You willfind, when too late, that your counsel will end in having us all in ahobble. "

"Pshaw! you are growing old and timid since this adventure. You begin todoubt your own powers of defence. You find your arguments failing; andyou fear that, when the time comes, you will not plead with your oldspirit, though for the extrication of your own instead of the neck ofyour neighbor. "

"Perhaps so--but, if there be no reason for apprehension, there issomething due to me in the way of revenge. Is the fellow to hurl medown, and trench my cheek in this manner, and escape without hurt?"

The eyes of the speaker glared with a deadly fury, as he indicated inthis sentence another motive for his persevering hostility toColleton--an hostility for which, as subsequent passages will show, hehad even a better reason than the unpleasing wound in his face; which, nevertheless, was in itself, strange as it may appear, a considerableeyesore to its proprietor. Munro evidently understood this only in part;and, unaccustomed to attribute a desire to shed blood to any other thana motive of gain or safety, and without any idea of mortified pride orpassion being productive of a thirst unaccountable to his mind, exceptin this manner, he proceeded thus, in a sentence, the dull simplicity ofwhich only the more provoked the ire of his companion--

"What do you think to do, Guy--what recompense would you seek tohave--what would satisfy you?"

The hand of Rivers grasped convulsively that of the questioner as hespoke, his eyes were protruded closely into his face, his voice wasthick, choking and husky, and his words tremulous, as he replied, "His blood--his blood!"

The landlord started back with undisguised horror from his glance. Though familiar with scenes of violence and crime, and callous in theirperformance, there was more of the Mammon than the Moloch in his spirit, and he shuddered at the fiendlike look that met his own. The otherproceeded:--

"The trench in my cheek is nothing to that within my soul. I tell you. Munro, I hate the boy--I hate him with a hatred that must have atiger-draught from his veins, and even then I will not be satisfied. Butwhy talk I to you thus, when he is almost in my grasp; and there isneither let nor hinderance? Sleeps he not in yon room to the northeast?"

"He does, Guy--but it must not be! I must not risk all for your passion, which seems to me, as weak as it is without adequate provocation. I carenothing for the youth, and you know it; but I will not run the thousandrisks which your temper is for ever bringing upon me. There is nothingto be gained, and a great deal to be lost by it, at this time. As forthe scar--that, I think, is fairly a part of the business, and is notproperly a subject of personal revenge. It belongs to the adventure, andyou should not have engaged in it, without a due reference to itspossible consequences. "

"You shall not keep me back by such objections as these. Do I not knowhow little you care for the risk--how little you can lose by it?"

"True, I can lose little, but I have other reasons; and, however it maysurprise you, those reasons spring from a desire for your good ratherthan my own. "

"For my good?" replied the other, with an inquiring sneer. 

"Yes, for your good, or rather for Lucy's. You wish to marry her. She isa sweet child, and an orphan. She merits a far better man than you; and, bound as I am to give her to you, I am deeply bound to myself and toher, to make you as worthy of her as possible, and to give her as manychances for happiness as I can. "

An incredulous smile played for a second upon the lips of the outlaw, succeeded quickly, however, by the savage expression, which, from beingthat most congenial to his feelings, had become that most habitual tohis face. 

"I can not be deceived by words like these, " was his reply, as hestepped quickly from under the boughs which had sheltered them and madetoward the house. 

"Think not to pursue this matter, Guy, on your life. I will not permitit; not now, at least, if I have to strike for the youth myself. "

Thus spoke the landlord, as he advanced in the same direction. Both weredeeply roused, and, though not reckless alike, Munro was a man quite asdecisive in character as his companion was ferocious and vindictive. What might have been the result of their present position, had it notundergone a new interruption, might not well be foreseen. The sash ofone of the apartments of the building devoted to the family was suddenlythrown up, and a soft and plaintive voice, accompanying the wanderingand broken strains of a guitar, rose sweetly into song upon the ear. 

"'Tis Lucy--the poor girl! Stay, Guy, and hear her music. She does notoften sing now-a-days. She is quite melancholy, and it's a long timesince I've heard her guitar. She sings and plays sweetly; her poorfather had her taught everything before he failed, for he was very proudof her, as well he might be. "

They sunk again into the covert, the outlaw muttering sullenly at theinterruption which had come between him and his purposes. The musictouched him not, for he betrayed no consciousness; when, after a fewbrief preliminary notes on the instrument, the musician breathed forththe little ballad which follows:--

 LUCY'S SONG. 

 I. 

 "I met thy glance of scorn, And then my anguish slept, But, when the crowd was gone, I turned away and wept. 

 II. 

 "I could not bear the frown Of one who thus could move, And feel that all my fault, Was only too much love. 

 III. 

 "I ask not if thy heart Hath aught for mine in store, Yet, let me love thee still, If thou canst yield no more. 

 IV. 

 "Let me unchidden gaze, Still, on the heaven I see, Though all its happy rays Be still denied to me. "

A broken line of the lay, murmured at intervals for a few minutes afterthe entire piece was concluded, as it were in soliloquy, indicated thesad spirit of the minstrel. She did not remain long at the window; in alittle while the song ceased, and the light was withdrawn from theapartment. The musician had retired. 

"They say, Guy, that music can quiet the most violent spirit, and itseems to have had its influence upon you. Does she not sing like amocking-bird?--is she not a sweet, a true creature? Why, man! so forwardand furious but now, and now so lifeless! bestir ye! The night wanes. "

The person addressed started from his stupor, and, as if utterlyunconscious of what had been going on, _ad interim_, actually replied tothe speech of his companion made a little while prior to the appearanceand music of the young girl, whose presence at that moment had mostprobably prevented strife and, possibly, bloodshed. He spoke as if theinterruption had made only a momentary break in the sentence which henow concluded:--

"He lies at the point of my knife, under my hands, within my power, without chance of escape, and I am to be held back--kept fromstriking--kept from my revenge--and for what? There may be little gainin the matter--it may not bring money, and there may be some risk! If itbe with you, Munro, to have neither love nor hate, but what you do, todo only for the profit and spoil that come of it, it is not so with me. I can both love and hate; though it be, as it has been, that I entertainthe one feeling in vain, and am restrained from the enjoyment of theother. "

"You were born in a perverse time, and are querulous, for the sake ofthe noise it makes, " rejoined his cool companion. "I do not desire torestrain your hands from this young man, but take your time for it. Letnothing be done to him while in this house. I will run, if I can helpit, no more risk for your passions; and I must confess myself anxious, if the devil will let me, of stopping right short in the old life andbeginning a new one. I have been bad enough, and done enough, to keep meat my prayers all the rest of my days, were I to live on to eternity. "

"This new spirit, I suppose, we owe to your visit to the lastcamp-meeting. You will exhort, doubtless, yourself, before long, if youkeep this track. Why, what a prophet you will make among thecrop-haired, Munro! what a brand from the burning!"

"Look you, Guy, your sarcasm pleases me quite as little as it did theyoung fellow, who paid it back so much better than I can. Be wise, ifyou can, while you are wary; if your words continue to come from thesame nest, they will beget something more than words, my good fellow. "

"True, and like enough, Munro; and why do you provoke me to say them?"replied Rivers, something more sedately. "You see me in a passion--youknow that I have cause--for is not this cause enough--this vile scar onfeatures, now hideous, that were once surely not unpleasing. "

As he spoke he dashed his fingers into the wound, which he still seemedpleased to refer to, though the reference evidently brought with itbitterness and mortification. He proceeded--his passion again risingpredominant--

"Shall I spare the wretch whose ministry defaced me--shall I not haverevenge on him who first wrote villain here--who branded me as anaccursed thing, and among things bright and beautiful gave me the badge, the blot, the heel-stamp, due the serpent? Shall I not have myatonement--my sacrifice--and shall you deny me--you, Walter Munro, whoowe it to me in justice?"

"I owe it to you, Guy--how?"

"You taught me first to be the villain you now find me. You first tookme to the haunts of your own accursed and hell-educated crew. You taughtme all their arts, their contrivances, their lawlessness, and crime. Youencouraged my own deformities of soul till they became monsters, and myown spirit such a monster that I no longer knew myself. You thrust theweapon into my hand, and taught me its use. You put me on the scent ofblood, and bade me lap it. I will not pretend that I was not ready andpliable enough to your hands. There was, I feel, little difficulty inmoulding me to your own measure. I was an apt scholar, and soon ceasedto be the subordinate villain. I was your companion, and too valuable toyou to be lost or left. When I acquired new views of man, and began, inanother sphere, that new life to which you would now turn your owneyes--when I grew strong among men, and famous, and public opinion growenamored with the name, which your destiny compelled me to exchange foranother, you sought me out--you thrust your enticements upon me; and, inan hour of gloom, and defeat, and despondency, you seized upon me withthose claws of temptation which are even now upon my shoulders, and Igave up all! I made the sacrifice--name, fame, honor, troops offriends--for what? Answer _you_! You are rich--you own slaves inabundance--secure from your own fortunes, you have wealth hourlyincreasing. What have I? This scar, this brand, that sends me among menno longer the doubtful villain--the words are written there in full!"

The speaker paused, exhausted. His face was pale and livid--his formtrembled with convulsion--and his lips grew white and chalky, whilequivering like a troubled water. The landlord, after a gloomy pause, replied:--

"You have spoken but the truth, Guy, and anything that I can do--"

"You will not do!" responded the other, passionately, and interruptingthe speaker in his speech. "You will do nothing! You ruin me in the loveand esteem of those whom I love and esteem--you drive me into exile--youlead me into crime, and put me upon a pursuit which teaches me practicesthat brand me with man's hate and fear, and--if the churchmen speaktruth, which I believe not--with heaven's eternal punishment! What haveI left to desire but hate--blood--the blood of man--who, in driving meaway from his dwelling, has made me an unrelenting enemy--his handeverywhere against me, and mine against him! While I had this pursuit, Idid not complain; but you now interpose to deny me even this. The boywhom I hate, not merely because of his species, but, in addition, with ahate incurred by himself, you protect from my vengeance, thoughaffecting to be utterly careless of his fate--and all this you concludewith a profession of willingness to do for me whatever you can! Whatmiserable mockery is this?"

"And have I done nothing--and am I seeking to do nothing for you, Guy, by way of atonement? Have I not pledged to you the person of my niece, the sweet young innocent, who is not unworthy to be the wife of thepurest and proudest gentleman of the southern country? Is thisnothing--is it nothing to sacrifice such a creature to such a creature?For well I know what must be her fate when she becomes your wife. Well Iknow you! Vindictive, jealous, merciless, wicked, and fearless inwickedness--God help me, for it will be the very worst crime I have everyet committed! These are all your attributes, and I know the sweet childwill have to suffer from the perpetual exercise of all of them. "

"Perhaps so! and as she will then be mine, she must suffer them, if I sodecree; but what avails your promise, so long as you--in this matter achild yourself--suffer her to protract and put off at her pleasure. Meshe receives with scorn and contempt, you with tears and entreaties; andyou allow their influence; in the hope, doubtless, that some luckychance--the pistol-shot or the hangman's collar--will rid you of myimportunities. Is it not so, Munro?" said the ruffian, with a sneer ofcontemptuous bitterness. 

"It would be, indeed, a lucky event for both of us, Guy, were you safelyin the arms of your mother; though I have not delayed in this affairwith any such hope. God knows I should be glad, on almost any terms, tobe fairly free from your eternal croakings--never at rest, neversatisfied, unless at some new deviltry and ill deed. If I did give youthe first lessons in your education, Guy, you have long since gonebeyond your master; and I'm something disposed to think that Old Nickhimself must have taken up your tuition, where, from want ofcorresponding capacity, I was compelled to leave it off. "

And the landlord laughed at his own humor, in despite of the hyena-glareshot forth from the eye of the savage he addressed. He continued:--

"But, Guy, I'm not for letting the youth off--that's as you please. Youhave a grudge against him, and may settle it to your own liking and inyour own way. I have nothing to say to that. But I am determined to doas little henceforth toward hanging myself as possible; and, therefore, the thing must not take place _here_. Nor do I like that it should bedone at all without some reason. When he blabs, there's a necessity forthe thing, and self-preservation, you know, is the first law of nature. The case will then be as much mine as yours, and I'll lend a helpinghand willingly. "

"My object, Munro, is scarcely the same with yours. It goes beyond it;and, whether he knows much or little, or speaks nothing or everything, it is still the same thing to me. I must have my revenge. But, for yourown safety--are you bent on running the risk?"

"I am, Guy, rather than spill any more blood unnecessarily. I havealready shed too much, and my dreams begin to trouble me as I getolder, " was the grave response of the landlord. 

"And how, if he speaks out, and you have no chance either to stop hismouth or to run for it?"

"Who'll believe him, think you?--where's the proof? Do you mean toconfess for both of us at the first question?"

"True--, " said Rivers, "there would be a difficulty in conviction, buthis oath would put us into some trouble. "

"I think not; our people know nothing about him, and would scarcely lendmuch aid to have either of us turned upon our backs, " replied Munro, without hesitation. 

"Well, be it then as you say. There is yet another subject, Munro, onwhich I have just as little reason to be satisfied as this. How longwill you permit this girl to trifle with us both? Why should you carefor her prayers and pleadings--her tears and entreaties? If you aredetermined upon the matter, as I have your pledge, these are childishand unavailing; and the delay can have no good end, unless it be thatyou do in fact look, as I have said, and as I sometimes think, for somechance to take me off, and relieve you of my importunities and from yourpledges. "

"Look you, Guy, the child is my own twin-brother's only one, and a sweetcreature it is. I must not be too hard with her; she begs time, and Imust give it. "

"Why, how much time would she have? Heaven knows what she considersreasonable, or what you or I should call so; but to my mind she has hadtime enough, and more by far than I was willing for. You must bring herto her senses, or let me do so. To my thought, she is making fools of usboth. "

"It is, enough, Guy, that you have my promise. She shall consent, and Iwill hasten the matter as fast as I can; but I will not drive her, norwill I be driven myself. Your love is not such a desperate affair as toburn itself out for the want of better fuel; and you can wait for theproper season. If I thought for a moment that you did or could have anyregard for the child, and she could be happy or even comfortable withyou, I might push the thing something harder than I do; but, as itstands, you must be patient. The fruit drops when it is ripe. "

"Rather when the frost is on it, and the worm is in the core, and decayhas progressed to rottenness! Speak you in this way to the hungry boy, whose eyes have long anticipated his appetite, and he may listen to youand be patient--I neither can nor will. Look to it, Munro: I will notmuch longer submit to be imposed upon. "

"Nor I, Guy Rivers. You forget yourself greatly, and entirely mistakeme, when you take these airs upon you. You are feverish now, and I willnot suffer myself to grow angry; but be prudent in your speech. We shallsee to all this to-morrow and the next day--there is quite timeenough--when we are both cooler and calmer than at present. The night issomething too warm for deliberation; and it is well we say no more onthe one subject till we learn the course of the other. The hour is late, and we had best retire. In the morning I shall ride to hear old ParsonWitter, in company with the old woman and Lucy. Ride along with us, andwe shall be able better to understand one another. "

As he spoke, Munro emerged from the cover of the tree under which theirdialogue had chiefly been carried on, and reapproached the dwelling, from which they had considerably receded. His companion lingered in therecess. 

"I will be there, " said Rivers, as they parted, "though I still proposea ride of a few miles to-night. My blood is hot, and I must quiet itwith a gallop. "

The landlord looked incredulous as he replied--"Some more deviltry: Iwill take a bet that the cross-roads see you in an hour. "

"Not impossible, " was the response, and the parties were both lost tosight--the one in the shelter of his dwelling, the other in the dimshadow of the trees which girdled it. 

CHAPTER XI. 

FOREST PREACHING. 

At an early hour of the ensuing morning, Ralph was aroused from hisslumbers, which had been more than grateful from the extra degree offatigue he had the day before undergone, by the appearance of Forrester, who apologized for the somewhat unseasonable nature of his visit, bybringing tidings of a preacher and of a preaching in the neighborhood onthat day. It was the sabbath--and though, generally speaking, very farfrom being kept holy in that region, yet, as a day of repose fromlabor--a holyday, in fact--it was observed, at all times, with more thanreligious scrupulosity. Such an event among the people of this quarterwas always productive of a congregation. The occurrence beingunfrequent, its importance was duly and necessarily increased in theestimation of those, the remote and insulated position of whom renderedsociety, whenever it could be found, a leading and general attraction. No matter what the character of the auspices under which it wasattained, they yearned for its associations, and gathered where theywere to be enjoyed. A field-preaching, too, is a legitimate amusement;and, though not intended as such, formed a genuine excuse and apologyfor those who desired it less for its teaching than its talk--who soughtit less for the word which it brought of God than that which itfurnished from the world of man. It was a happy cover for those who, cultivating a human appetite, and conscious of a human weakness, weresolicitous, in respecting and providing for these, not to offend theCreator in the presence of his creatures. 

The woodman, as one of this class, was full of glee, and promised Ralphan intellectual treat; for Parson Witter, the preacher in reference, hadmore than once, as he was pleased to acknowledge and phrase it, won hisears, and softened and delighted his heart. He was popular in thevillage and its neighborhood, and where regular pastor was none, hemight be considered to have made the strongest impression upon hisalmost primitive and certainly only in part civilized hearers. Hismerits of mind were held of rather an elevated order, and in standardfar over topping the current run of his fellow-laborers in the samevineyard; while his own example was admitted, on all hands, to keep paceevenly with the precepts which he taught, and to be not unworthy of thefaith which he professed. He was of the methodist persuasion--a sectwhich, among those who have sojourned in our southern and westernforests, may confidently claim to have done more, and with motives aslittle questionable as any, toward the spread of civilization, goodhabits, and a proper morality, with the great mass, than all other knownsects put together. In a word, where men are remotely situated from oneanother, and can not well afford to provide for an established place ofworship and a regular pastor, their labors, valued at the loweststandard of human want, are inappreciable. We may add that never didlaborers more deserve, yet less frequently receive, their hire, than thepreachers of this particular faith. Humble in habit, moderate in desire, indefatigable in well-doing, pure in practice and intention, withoutpretence or ostentation of any kind, they have gone freely andfearlessly into places the most remote and perilous, with an emptyscrip, but with hearts filled to overflowing with love of God andgood-will to men--preaching their doctrines with a simple and anunstudied eloquence, meetly characteristic of, and well adapted to, theold groves, deep primitive forests, and rudely-barren wilds, in which itis their wont most commonly to give it utterance: day after day, weekafter week, and month after month, finding them wayfarers still--neverslumbering, never reposing from the toil they have engaged in, untilthey have fallen, almost literally, into the narrow grave by thewayside; their resting-places unprotected by any other mausoleum orshelter than those trees which have witnessed their devotions; theirnames and worth unmarked by any inscription; their memories, however, closely treasured up and carefully noted among human affections, andwithin the bosoms of those for whom their labors have been taken; whiletheir reward, with a high ambition cherished well in their lives, isfound only in that better abode where they are promised a cessation fromtheir labors, but where their good works still follow them. This, without exaggeration, applicable to the profession at large, wasparticularly due to the individual member in question; and among thesomewhat savage and always wild people whom he exhorted, Parson Witterwas in many cases an object of sincere affection, and in all commandedtheir respect. 

As might readily be expected, the whole village and as much of thesurrounding country as could well be apprized of the affair were for thegathering; and Colleton, now scarcely feeling his late injuries, anearly breakfast having been discussed, mounted his horse, and, under theguidance of his quondam friend Forrester, took the meandering path, or, as they phrase it in those parts, the old _trace_, to the place ofmeeting and prayer. 

The sight is something goodly, as well to the man of the world as to theman of God, to behold the fairly-decked array of people, drawn from acircuit of some ten or even fifteen miles in extent, on the sabbath, neatly dressed in their choicest apparel, men and women alike wellmounted, and forming numerous processions and parties, from three tofive or ten in each, bending from every direction to a given point, andassembling for the purposes of devotion. No chiming and chattering bellswarn them of the day or of the duty--no regularly-constituted andwell-salaried priest--no time-honored fabric, round which the oldforefathers of the hamlet rest--reminding them regularly of therecurring sabbath, and the sweet assemblage of their fellows. We are toassume that the teacher is from their own impulses, and that the heartcalls them with due solemnity to the festival of prayer. The preachercomes when the spirit prompts, or as circumstances may impel or permit. The news of his arrival passes from farm to farm, from house to house;placards announce it from the trees on the roadside, parallel, it maybe, with an advertisement for strayed oxen, as we have seen itnumberless times; and a day does not well elapse before it is inpossession of everybody who might well avail themselves of its promisefor the ensuing Sunday. The parson comes to the house of one of hisauditory a night or two before; messages and messengers are despatchedto this and that neighbor, who despatch in turn to other neighbors. Thenegroes, delighting in a service and occasion of the kind--in which, by-the-way, they generally make the most conspicuous figures--thoughsomewhat sluggish as couriers usually, are now not merely ready, butactually swift of foot. The place of worship and the preacher are dulydesignated, and, by the time appointed, as if the bell had tolled fortheir enlightenment, the country assembles at the stated place; andthough the preacher may sometimes fail of attendance, the people neverdo. 

The spot appointed for the service of the day was an old grove ofgigantic oaks, at a distance of some five or six miles from the villageof Chestatee. The village itself had not been chosen, though having theconvenience of a building, because of the liberal desire entertained bythose acting on the occasion to afford to others living at an equaldistance the same opportunities without additional fatigue. The morningwas a fine one, all gayety and sunshine--the road dry, elevated, andshaded luxuriantly with the overhanging foliage--the woods having theair of luxury and bloom which belonged to them at such a season, and theprospect, varied throughout by the wholesome undulations of valley andhill, which strongly marked the face of the country, greatly enlivenedthe ride to the eye of our young traveller. Everything contributed toimpart a cheering influence to his senses; and with spirits and a framenewly braced and invigorated, he felt the bounding motion of the steedbeneath him with an animal exultation, which took from his countenancethat look of melancholy which had hitherto clouded it. 

As our two friends proceeded on their way, successive and frequentgroups crossed their route, or fell into it from other roads--somecapriciously taking the by-paths and Indian tracks through the woods, but all having the same object in view, and bending to the same point ofassemblage. Here gayly pranced on a small cluster of the young of bothsexes, laughing with unqualified glee at the jest of some of theircompanions--while in the rear, the more staid, the antiques and thoserapidly becoming so, with more measured gait, paced on in suite. On theroad-side, striding on foot with step almost as rapid as that of theriders, came at intervals, and one after the other, the nowtrimly-dressed slaves of this or that plantation--all devoutly bent onthe place of meeting. Some of the whites carried their double-barrelledguns, some their rifles--it being deemed politic, at that time, toprepare for all contingencies, for the Indian or for the buck, as wellas for the more direct object of the journey. 

At length, in a rapidly approaching group, a bright but timid glance metthat of Colleton, and curbing in the impetuous animal which he rode, ina few moments he found himself side by side with Miss Munro, whoanswered his prettiest introductory compliment with a smile and speech, uttered with a natural grace, and with the spirit of a dame of chivalry. 

"We have a like object to-day, I presume, " was, after a fewcomplimentary sentences, the language of Ralph--"yet, " he continued, "Ifear me, that our several impulses at this time scarcely so far resembleeach other as to make it not discreditable to yours to permit of thecomparison. "

"I know not what may be the motive which impels you, sir to the courseyou take; but I will not pretend to urge that, even in my own thoughts, my route is any more the result of a settled conviction of its highnecessity than it may be in yours, and the confession which I shame tomake, is perhaps of itself, a beginning of that very kind ofself-examination which we seek the church to awaken. "

"Alas, Miss Lucy, even this was not in my thought, so much are we menignorant of or indifferent to those things which are thought of so muchreal importance. We seldom regard matters which are not of presentenjoyment. The case is otherwise with you. There is far more truth, myown experience tells me, in the profession of your sex, whether in loveor in religion, than in ours--and believe me, I mean this as no idlecompliment--I feel it to be true. The fact is, society itself puts youinto a sphere and condition, which, taking from you much of yourindividuality, makes you less exclusive in your affections, and moresingle in their exercise. Your existence being merged in that of thestronger sex, you lose all that general selfishness which is the strictresult of our pursuits. Your impulses are narrowed to a single point ortwo, and there all your hopes, fears and desires, become concentrated. You acquire an intense susceptibility on a few subjects, by the loss ofthose manifold influences which belong to the out-door habit of mankind. With us, we have so many resources to fly to for relief, so manyattractions to invite and seduce, so many resorts of luxury and life, that the affections become broken up in small, the heart is dividedamong the thousand; and, if one fragment suffers defeat or denial, why, the pang scarcely touches, and is perhaps unfelt by all the rest. Youhave but few aims, few hopes. With these your very existence is boundup, and if you lose these you are yourselves lost. Thus I find that yoursex, to a certain age, are creatures of love--disappointment invariablybegets devotion--and either of these passions, for so they should becalled, once brought into exercise, forbids and excludes every other. "

"Really, Mr. Colleton, you seem to have looked somewhat into thephilosophy of this subject, and you may be right in the inferences towhich you have come. On this point I may say nothing; but, do youconceive it altogether fair in you thus to compliment us at our ownexpense? You give us the credit of truth, a high eulogium, I grant, inmatters which relate to the the affections and the heart; but this isdone by robbing us entirely of mental independence. You are a kind ofgenerous outlaw, a moral Robin Hood, you compel us to give up everythingwe possess, in order that you may have the somewhat equivocal merit ofrestoring back a small portion of what you take. "

"True, and this, I am afraid, Miss Lucy, however by the admission Iforfeit for my sex all reputation for chivalry, is after all the preciserelationship between us. The very fact that the requisitions made by oursex produce immediate concession from yours, establishes the dependenceof which you complain. "

"You mistake me, sir. I complain not of the robbery---far from it; for, if we do lose the possession of a commodity so valuable, we are at leastfreed from the responsibility of keeping it. The gentlemen, nowadays, seldom look to us for intellectual gladiatorship; they are content thatour weakness should shield us from the war. But, I conceive the reproachof our poverty to come unkindly from those who make us poor. It is ofthis, sir, that I complain. "

"You are just, and justly severe, Miss Munro; but what else have you toexpect? Amazon-like, your sex, according to the quaint old story, soughtthe combat, and were not unwilling to abide the conditions of thewarfare. The taunt is coupled with the triumph--the spoil follows thevictory--and the captive is chained to the chariot-wheel of hisconqueror, and must adorn the march of his superior by his own shame andsorrows. But, to be just to myself, permit me to say, that what you haveconsidered a reproach was in truth designed as a compliment. I mustregret that my modes of expression are so clumsy, that, in the utteranceof my thought, the sentiment so changed its original shape as entirelyto lose its identity. It certainly deserved the graceful swordsmanshipwhich foiled it so completely. "

"Nay, sir, " said the animated girl, "you are bloodily-minded towardyourself, and it is matter of wonder to me how you survive your ownrebuke. So far from erring in clumsy phrase, I am constrained to admitthat I thought, and think you, excessively adroit and happy in itsmanagement. It was only with a degree of perversity, intended solely toestablish our independence of opinion, at least for the moment, that Ichose to mistake and misapprehend you. Your remark, clothed in any otherlanguage, could scarcely put on a form more consistent with yourmeaning. "

Ralph bowed at a compliment which had something equivocal in it, andthis branch of the conversation having reached its legitimate close, apause of some few moments succeeded, when they found themselves joinedby other parties, until the cortege was swollen in number to the goodlydimensions of a cavalcade or caravan designed for a pilgrimage. 

"Report speaks favorably of the preacher we are to hear to-day, MissMunro--have you ever heard him?" was the inquiry of the youth. 

"I have, sir, frequently, and have at all times been much pleased andsometimes affected by his preaching. There are few persons I would moredesire to hear than himself--he does not offend your ears, nor assailyour understanding by unmeaning thunders. His matter and manner, alike, are distinguished by modest good sense, a gentle and dignified ease andspirit, and a pleasing earnestness in his object that is neveroffensive. I think, sir, you will like him. "

"Your opinion of him will certainly not diminish my attention, I assureyou, to what he says, " was the reply. 

At this moment the cavalcade was overtaken and joined by Rivers andMunro, together with several other villagers. Ralph now taking advantageof a suggestion of Forrester's, previously made--who proposed, as therewould be time enough, a circuitous and pleasant ride through aneighboring valley--avoided the necessity of being in the company of onewith respect to whom he had determined upon a course of the most jealousprecaution. Turning their horses' heads, therefore, in the proposeddirection, the two left the procession, and saw no more of the partyuntil their common arrival at the secluded grove--druidically conceivedfor the present purpose--in which the teacher of a faith as simple as itwas pleasant was already preparing to address them. 

The venerable oaks--a goodly and thickly clustering assemblage--forminga circle around, and midway upon a hill of gradual ascent, had left anopening in the centre, concealed from the eye except when fairlypenetrated by the spectator. Their branches, in most part meeting above, afforded a roof less regular and gaudy, indeed, but far more grand, majestic, and we may add, becoming, for purposes like the present, thanthe dim and decorated cathedral, the workmanship of human hands. Itsapplication to this use, at this time, recalled forcibly to the mind ofthe youth the forms and features of that primitive worship, when thetrees bent with gentle murmurs above the heads of the rapt worshippers, and a visible Deity dwelt in the shadowed valleys, and whispered anauspicious acceptance of their devotions in every breeze. He could nothelp acknowledging, as, indeed, must all who have ever been under theinfluence of such a scene, that in this, more properly and perfectlythan in any other temple, may the spirit of man recognise and holdfamiliar and free converse with the spirit of his Creator. Here, indeed, without much effort of the imagination; might be beheld the presentGod--the trees, hills and vales, the wild flower and the murmuringwater, all the work of his hands, attesting his power, keeping theirpurpose, and obeying, without scruple, the order of those seasons, forthe sphere and operation of which he originally designed them. They weremute lessoners, and the example which, in the progress of theirexistence, year after year, they regularly exhibited, might wellpersuade the more responsible representative of the same power thepropriety of a like obedience. 

A few fallen trees, trimmed of their branches and touched with the adze, ranging at convenient distances under the boughs of those along withwhich they had lately stood up in proud equality, furnished seats forthe now rapidly-gathering assemblage. A rough stage, composed of logs, rudely hewn and crossing each other at right angles, covered, when at aheight of sufficient elevation, formed the pulpit from which thepreacher was to exhort. A chair, brought from some cottage in theneighborhood, surmounted the stage. This was all that art had done toaccommodate nature to the purposes of man. 

In the body of the wood immediately adjacent, fastened to theoverhanging branches, were the goodly steeds of the company; forming, inthemselves, to the unaccustomed and inexperienced eye, a grouping themost curious. Some, more docile than the rest; were permitted to rove atlarge, cropping the young herbage and tender grass; occasionally, it istrue, during the service, overleaping their limits in a literal sense;neighing, whinnying and kicking up their heels to the manifest confusionof the pious and the discomfiture of the preacher. 

The hour at length arrived. The audience was numerous if not select. Allpersuasions--for even in that remote region sectarianism had done muchtoward banishing religion--assembled promiscuously together and withoutshow of discord, excepting that here and there a high stickler forchurch aristocracy, in a better coat than his neighbor, thrust himaside; or, in another and not less offensive form of pride, in theexternals of humility and rotten with innate malignity, groaned audiblythrough his clenched teeth; and with shut eyes and crossed hands, as inprayer, sought to pass a practical rebuke upon the less devoutexhibitions of those around him. The cant and the clatter, as itprevails in the crowded mart, were here in miniature; and Charity wouldhave needed something more than a Kamschatka covering to have shut outfrom her eyes the enormous hypocrisy of many among the clamorousprofessors of that faith of which they felt little and knew less. If sheshut her eyes to the sight, their groans were in her ears; and if sheturned away, they took her by the elbow, and called her a backsliderherself. Forrester whispered in the ears of Ralph, as his eyeencountered the form of Miss Munro, who sat primly amid a flock ofvenerables--

"Doesn't she talk like a book? Ah, she's a smart, sweet girl; it's apity there's no better chance for her than Guy Rivers. But where'she--the rascal? Do you know I nearly got my fingers on his throat lastnight. I felt deusedly like it, I tell you. "

"Why, what did he to you?"

"Answered me with such impudence! I took him for the pedler in the dark, and thought I had got a prize; it wasn't the pedler, but somethingworse--for in my eyes he's no better than a polecat. "

But, the preacher had risen in his place, and all was silence andattention. We need scarcely seek to describe him. His appearance wasthat of a very common man; and the anticipations of Colleton, as he wasone of those persons apt to be taken by appearances, suffered somethinglike rebuke. His figure was diminutive and insignificant; his shoulderswere round, and his movements excessively awkward; his face was thin andsallow, his eyes dull and inexpressive, and too small seemingly forcommand. A too-frequent habit of closing them in prayer contributed, nodoubt, greatly to this appearance. A redeeming expression in the highforehead, conically rising, and the strong character exhibited in hisnose, neutralized in some sort the generally-unattractive outline. Hishair, which was of a deep black, was extremely coarse, and closelycropped: it gave to his look that general expression which associatedhim at once in the mind of Ralph, whose reading in those matters wasfresh, with the commonwealth history of England--with the puritans, andthose diseased fanatics of the Cromwell dynasty, not omitting thatprofound hypocrite himself. What, then, was the surprise of the youth, having such impressions, to hear a discourse unassuming in its dictates, mild in its requisitions, and of a style and temper the most soothingand persuasive!

The devotions commenced with a hymn, two lines of which, at a time, having been read and repeated by the preacher, furnished a guide to thecongregation; the female portion of which generally united to sing, andin a style the sweetness of which was doubly effective from the utterabsence of all ornament in the music. The strains were just such as theold shepherds, out among the hills, tending their charges, might havebeen heard to pour forth, almost unconsciously, to that God whosometimes condescended to walk along with them. After this was over, thepreacher rose, and read, with a voice as clear as unaffected, thetwenty-third psalm of David, the images of which are borrowed chieflyfrom the life in the wilderness, and were therefore not unsuited to theears of those to whom it was now addressed. Without proposing any oneportion of this performance as a text or subject of commentary, andwithout seeking, as is quite too frequently the case with smallteachers, to explain doubtful passages of little meaning and noimportance, he delivered a discourse, in which he simply dilated uponand carried out, for the benefit of those about him, and with a directreference to the case of all of them, those beautiful portraits of agood shepherd and guardian God which the production which he readfurnished to his hands. He spoke of the dependence of thecreature--instanced, as it is daily, by a thousand wants and exigencies, for which, unless by the care and under the countenance of Providence, he could never of himself provide. He narrated the dangers of theforest--imaging by this figure the mazes and mysteries of life--thedifficulty, nay, the almost utter impossibility, unless by His sanction, of procuring sustenance, and of counteracting those innumerableincidents by fell and flood, which, in a single moment, defeat the caresof the hunter and the husbandman--setting at naught his industry, destroying his fields and cattle, blighting his crops, and tearing upwith the wing of the hurricane even the cottage which gives shelter tohis little ones. He dwelt largely and long upon those numberless andsudden events in the progress of life and human circumstance, overwhich, as they could neither be foreseen nor combated with by man, hehad no control; and appealed for him to the Great Shepherd, who alonecould do both. Having shown the necessity of such an appeal andreference, he next proceeded to describe the gracious willingness whichhad at all times been manifested by the Creator to extend the requiredprotection. He adverted to the fortunes of all the patriarchs in supportof this position; and, singling out innumerable instances of thisdescription, confidently assured them, in turn, from these examples, that the same Shepherd was not unwilling to provide for them in likemanner. Under his protection, he assured them, "they should not want. "He dilated at length, and with a graceful dexterity, upon thetruths--the simple and mere truths of God's providence, and the historyof his people--which David had embodied in the beautiful psalm which hehad read them. It was poetry, indeed--sweet poetry--but it was thepoetry of truth and not of fiction. Did not history sustain its everyparticular? Had not the Shepherd made them to lie down in greenpastures--had he not led them beside the still waters--restored he nottheir souls--did he not lead them, for his name's sake, in the paths ofrighteousness--and though at length they walked through the valley whereDeath had cast his never-departing shadow, was he not with them still, keeping them even from the fear of evil? He furnished them with the rodand staff; he prepared the repast for them, even in the presence oftheir enemies; he anointed their heads with oil, and blessed them withquiet and abundance, until the cup of their prosperity was runningover--until they even ceased to doubt that goodness and mercy shouldfollow them all the days of their life; and, with a proper consciousnessof the source whence this great good had arisen, they determined, withthe spirit not less of wise than of worthy men, to follow his guidance, and thus dwell in the house of the Lord for ever. Such did the old mandescribe the fortunes of the old patriarchs to have been; and such, having first entered into like obligations, pursuing them with the samefond fixedness of purpose, did he promise should be the fortunes of allwho then listened to his voice. 

As he proceeded to his peroration, he grew warmed with the broad andboundless subject before him, and his declamation became alike bold andbeautiful. All eyes were fixed upon him, and not a whisper from thestill-murmuring woods which girded them in was perceptible to the sensesof that pleased and listening assembly. The services of the morning wereclosed by a paraphrase, in part, of the psalm from which his discoursehad been drawn; and as this performance, in its present shape, is not tobe found, we believe, in any of the books devoted to such purposes, itis but fair to conclude that the old man--not unwilling, in hisprofession, to employ every engine for the removal of all stubbornnessfrom the hearts of those he addressed--sometimes invoked Poetry to smileupon his devotions, and wing his aspirations for the desired flight. Itwas sung by the congregation, in like manner with the former--thepreacher reading two lines at a time, after having first gone throughthe perusal aloud of the piece entire. With the recognised privilege ofthe romancer, who is supposed to have a wizard control over men, events, and things alike, we are enabled to preserve the paraphrase here:--

 "SHEPHERD'S HYMN"

 "Oh, when I rove the desert waste, and 'neath the hot sun pant, The Lord shall be my shepherd then--he will not let me want-- He'll lead me where the pastures are of soft and shady green, And where the gentle waters rove the quiet hills between. 

 "And when the savage shall pursue, and in his grasp I sink, He will prepare the feast for me, and bring the cooling drink-- And save me harmless from his hands, and strengthen me in toil, And bless my home and cottage-lands, and crown my head with oil. 

 "With such a Shepherd to protect--to guide and guard me still, And bless my heart with every good, and keep from every ill-- Surely I shall not turn aside, and scorn his kindly care, But keep the path he points me out, and dwell for ever there. "

The service had not yet been concluded--the last parting offices ofprayer and benediction had yet to be performed--when a boy, aboutfourteen years of age, rushed precipitately into the assembly. Hisclothes were torn and bloody, and he was smeared with dirt from head tofoot. He spoke, but his words were half intelligible only, andcomprehended by but one or two of the persons around him. Munroimmediately rose and carried him out. He was followed by Rivers, who hadbeen sitting beside him. 

The interruption silenced everything like prayer; there was no furtherattention for the preacher; and accordingly a most admired disorderoverspread the audience. One after another rose and left the area, andthose not the first to withdraw followed in rapid succession; until, under the influence of that wild stimulant, curiosity, the preacher soonfound himself utterly unattended, except by the female portion of hisauditory. These, too, or rather the main body of them at least, were nowonly present in a purely physical sense; for, with the truecharacteristic of the sex, their minds were busily employed in thewilderness of reflection which this movement among the men hadnecessarily inspired. 

Ralph Colleton, however, with praiseworthy decorum, lingered to thelast--his companion Forrester, under the influence of a whisper from oneover his shoulder, having been among the first to retire. He, too, couldnot in the end avoid the general disposition, and at length took his wayto the animated and earnest knot which he saw assembled in the shade ofthe adjoining thicket, busied in the discussion of some concern of morethan common interest. In his departure from the one gathering to theother, he caught a glance from the eye of Lucy Munro, which had in it somuch of warning, mingled at the same time with an expression of so muchinterest, that he half stopped in his progress, and, but for the seemingindecision and awkwardness of such a proceeding, would havereturned--the more particularly, indeed, when, encountering her gazewith a corresponding fixedness--though her cheek grew to crimson withthe blush that overspread it--her glance was not yet withdrawn. He feltthat her look was full of caution, and inwardly determined upon duecircumspection. The cause of interruption may as well be reserved forthe next chapter. 

CHAPTER XII. 

TROUBLE AMONG THE TRESPASSERS. 

Ralph now made his way into the thick of the crowd, curious to ascertainthe source of so much disquiet and tumult as now began to manifestitself among them. The words of peace which they had just heard seemedto have availed them but little, for every brow was blackened, and everytongue tipped with oaths and execrations. His appearance attracted noattention, if, indeed, it were not entirely unobserved. The topic inhand was of an interest quite too fresh and absorbing to permit of asingle glance toward any other of more doubtful importance, and it wasonly after much delay that he was enabled at length to get the leastinsight into the mystery. All were speakers, counsellors, orators--oldand young, big and little, illustrious and obscure--all but thelegitimate and legal counsellor Pippin, who, to the surprise of theyouth, was to be seen galloping at the uttermost stretch of his horse'slegs toward the quiet of his own abode. The lawyer was known to have aparticular care of number one, and such a movement excited no remark inany of the assembly. There was danger at hand, and he knew hisvalue--besides, there might be business for the sessions, and he valuedtoo highly the advantages, in a jury-case, of a clean conscience, not tobe solicitous to keep his honor clear of any art or part in criminalmatters, saving only such connection as might come professionally. 

That the lawyer was not without reason for his precaution, Ralph hadsoon abundant testimony himself. Arms and the munitions of war, as if bymagic, had been rapidly collected. Some of the party, it is true, hadmade their appearance at the place of prayer with rifles and fowlingpieces, a practice which occasioned no surprise. But the managers of thepresent movement had seemingly furnished all hands with weapons, offensive and defensive, of one kind or another. Some were caparisonedwith pistols, cutlasses, and knives; and, not to speak of pickaxes andclubs, the array was sufficiently formidable. The attitude of allparties was warlike in the extreme, and the speeches of those who, fromtime to time, condescended to please themselves by haranguing theirneighbors, teemed with nothing but strife and wounds, fight and furiousperformance. 

The matter, as we have already remarked, was not made out by the youthwithout considerable difficulty. He obtained, however, some particularsfrom the various speakers, which, taken in connection with the brokenand incoherent sentences of Forrester, who dashed into speech atintervals with something of the fury of a wounded panther in acane-brake, contributed at length to his full enlightenment. 

"Matter enough--matter enough! and you will think so too--to he robbedof our findings by a parcel of blasted 'coons, that haven't soul enoughto keep them freezing. Why, this is the matter, you must know: only lastweek, we miners of Tracy's diggings struck upon a fine heap of the goodstuff, and have been gathering gold pretty freely ever since. All theboys have been doing well at it; better than they ever did before--andeven Munro there, and Rivers, who have never been very fond of work, neither of them, have been pretty busy ever since; for, as I tell you, we were making a sight of money, all of us. Well now, somehow or other, our good luck got to the ears of George Dexter and his men, who havebeen at work for some time past upon old Johnson's diggings aboutfourteen miles up on the Sokee river. They could never make much out ofthe place, I know; for what it had good in it was pretty much cleanedout of it when I was there, and I know it can't get better, seeing thatgold is not like trees, to grow out every year. Well, as I say, GeorgeDexter, who would just as lief do wrong as right, and a great dealrather, got tired, as well as all his boys, of working for the fun ofthe thing only; and so, hearing as I say of our good luck, what did theydo but last night come quietly down upon our trace, and when Jones, theold man we kept there as a kind of safeguard, tried to stop 'em, theyshot him through the body as if he had been a pig. His son got away whenhis father was shot, though they did try to shoot him too, and come posthaste to tell us of the transaction. There stands the lad, his clothesall bloody and ragged. He's had a good run of it through the bushes, Ireckon. "

"And they are now in possession of your lands?"

"Every fellow of 'em, holding on with gun in hand, and swearing to bethe death of us, if we try for our own. But we'll show them what's what, or I can't fling a hatchet or aim a rifle. This, now, Master Colleton, is the long and the short of the matter. "

"And what do you propose to do?" asked Ralph, of his informant. 

"Why, what should we do, do you think, but find out who the best menare, and put them in possession. There's not a two-legged creature amongus that won't be willing to try that question, any how, and at any time, but more particularly now, when everything depends upon it. "

"And when do you move, Forrester?"

"Now, directly--this very minute. The boys have just sent for some morepowder, and are putting things in readiness for a brush. "

The resolution of Ralph was at once adopted. He had nothing, it is true, to do with the matter--no interest at stake, and certainly no sympathywith the lawless men who went forth to fight for a property, to whichthey had not a jot more of right than had those who usurped it fromthem. But here was a scene--here was incident, excitement--and with allthe enthusiasm of the southern temper, and with that uncalculatingwarmth which so much distinguishes it, he determined, without muchregard to the merits of the question, to go along with the party. 

"I'll ride with you, Forrester, and see what's going on. "

"And stand up with us, 'squire, and join in the scuffle?" inquired hiscompanion. 

"I say not that, Forrester. I have no concern in this matter, and solong as I am let alone myself, I see no reason for taking part in anaffair, of the merits of which I am almost entirely ignorant. "

"You will take your arms with you, I suppose. You can lend them to thosewho fight, though you make no use of them yourself. "

"Yes--I never go without arms in travelling, but I shall not lend them. A man should no more lend his arms than he should lend his coat. Everyman should have his own weapons. "

"Yes; but, 'squire, if you go along with us, you may be brought into thescrape. The other party may choose to consider you one of us. "

"It is for this reason, not less than others, that I would carry and notlend my arms. "

"Well, 'squire, you might lend them to some of us, and I would answerfor them. It's true, as you say, that every man should have his ownweapons; but some among us, you see, ha'n't got 'em, and it's for thatwe've been waiting. But come, it's time to start; the boys are beginningto be in motion; and here come Munro and that skunk Rivers. I reckonMunro will have the command, for he's thought to be the most cunningamong us. "

The party was now ready for departure, when a new interruption wasexperienced. The duties of the pastor were yet to begin, and, accordingly, sallying forth at the head of his remaining congregation, Parson Witter placed himself in front of the seceders. It is unnecessarythat we should state his purpose; it is as little necessary that weshould say that it was unavailing. Men of the kind of whom we speak, though perhaps not insensible to some of the bolder virtues, have nosympathy or love for a faith which teaches forbearance under wrong andinsult, and meekness under blows. If they did not utterly laugh in hisface, therefore, at his exhortations, it was because, at the very first, they had to a man turned their backs upon him, and were now generallymounted. Following the common lead, Ralph approached the group wherestood his fair friend of the morning; and acknowledged, in anunder-tone, to herself, the correctness of her opinion in regard to themerits of the sermon. She did not reply to the observation, but seeinghis hand upon the bridle, asked hurriedly--

"Do you, sir--does Mr. Colleton go with this party?"

"I do; the circumstance are all so novel, and I am curious to see asmuch of manners and events foreign to those to which I have beenaccustomed, as may be practicable. "

"I fear, sir, that those which you may behold on occasions such asthese, and in this country, though they may enlighten you, will dolittle toward your gratification. You have friends, sir, who might notbe willing that you should indulge in unnecessary exposure, for thesatisfaction of a curiosity so unpromising. "

Her manner was dignified, and though as she spoke a something of rebukecame mingled with the caution which her language conveyed, yet there wasevidently such an interest in his fortunes embodied in what she said, that the listener whom she addressed could not feel hurt at the wordsthemselves, or the accompanying expression. 

"I shall be a mere looker-on, Miss Munro, and dare to disregard thecaution which you bestow, though duly sensible of the kindness whichgives it utterance. Perhaps, too, I may be of service in the way ofpeace-making. I have neither interest nor wish which could prompt me toany other course. "

"There is every need for caution among young travellers, sir; and thoughno astrologer, it seems to me your planet is full of unfavorableauguries. If you will be headstrong, see that you have your eyes aboutyou. You have need of them both. "

This was all in by-play. The group had passed on, and a single nod ofthe head and a doubtful smile, on her part, concluded the brief dialoguewe have just narrated. The youth was puzzled to understand thesignificant warnings, which, from time to time, she had given him. Hefelt unconscious of any foe in particular, and though at that timesojourning with a people in whom he could repose but little confidence, he yet saw no reason to apprehend any danger. If her manner and wordshad reference simply to the general lawlessness of the settlement, theprecaution evidently conveyed no compliment to his own capacities forobservation. Whatever might have been her motive, the youth felt itskindness; and she rose not a little in his esteem, when he reflectedwith how much dignity and ladylike propriety she had given, to acomparative stranger, the counsel which she evidently thought necessaryto his well-being. With a free rein he soon overtook Forrester, and withhim took his place in the rear of the now rapidly advancing cavalcade. 

As Forrester had conjectured, the command of the party, such as it was, was assigned to the landlord. There might have been something like fortyor fifty men in all, the better portion of them mounted and wellarmed--some few on foot struggling to keep pace with the riders--all inhigh spirits, and indignant at the invasion of what they consideredtheir own. These, however, were not all hunters of the precious metal, and many of them, indeed, as the reader has by this time readilyconjectured, carried on a business of very mixed complexion. The wholevillage--blacksmith, grocer, baker, and clothier included, turned out_en masse_, upon the occasion; for, with an indisputable position inpolitical economy, deriving their gains directly or indirectly from thispursuit, the cause was, in fact, a cause in common. 

The scene of operations, in view of which they had now come, had to theeye all the appearance of a moderate encampment. The intruding force haddone the business completely. They had made a full transfer, from theirold to their new quarters, of bag and baggage; and had possessedthemselves of all the log-houses in and about the disputed region. Theirfires were in full heat, to use the frontier phrase, and the water washissing in their kettles, and the dry thorns crackling under the pot. Never had usurpers made themselves more perfectly at home; and the rageof the old incumbents was, of course, duly heightened at a prospect ofso much ease and felicity enjoyed at their expense. 

The enemy were about equal in point of number with those whom they hadso rudely dispossessed. They had, however, in addition to theirdisposable force, their entire assemblage of wives, children, slaves, and dependants, cattle and horses, enough, as Forrester bitterlyremarked, "to breed a famine in the land. " They had evidently settledthemselves _for life_, and the ousted party, conscious of the fact, prepared for the _dernier_ resort. Everything on the part of theusurpers indicated a perfect state of preparedness for an issue whichthey never doubted would be made; and all the useless baggage, interspersed freely with rocks and fallen trees, had been well-employedin increasing the strength of a position for which, such an objectconsidered, nature had already done much. The defences, as they nowstood, precluded all chance of success from an attack by mounted men, unless the force so employed were overwhelming. The defenders stoodready at their posts, partly under cover, and so arrayed as easily toput themselves so, and were armed in very nearly the same manner withthe assailing party. In this guise of formidable defence, they waitedpatiently the onset. 

There was a brief pause after their arrival, on the part of the invadingforce, which was employed principally in consultation as to the propermode of procedure, and in examination of the ground. Their plan ofattack, depending altogether upon the nature of circumstances yet to beseen, had not been deliberated upon before. The consultation lasted notlong, however, and no man's patience was too severely tried. Havingdeputed the command to the landlord, they left the matter pretty much tothat person; nor was their choice unhappy. 

Munro had been a partisan well-taught in Indian warfare, and it was saidof him, that he knew quite as well how to practise all their subtletiesas themselves. The first object with him, therefore, in accordance withhis reputation, was to devise some plot, by which not only to destroythe inequality of chances between the party assailing and that defendinga post now almost impregnable, but to draw the latter entirely out oftheir defences. Still, it was deemed but courteous, or prudent at least, to see what could be done in the way of negotiation; and their leader, with a white handkerchief attached to a young sapling, hewn down for thepurpose, by way of apology for a flag, approached the besieged, and infront of his men demanded a conference with the usurping chief. 

The demand was readily and at once answered by the appearance of thealready named George Dexter; a man who, with little sagacity and butmoderate cunning, had yet acquired a lead and notoriety among hisfellows, even in that wild region, simply from the reckless boldness andfierce impetuosity of his character. It is useless to describe such aperson. He was a ruffian--in look and manner, ruffianly--huge of frame, strong and agile of limb, and steeled against all fear, simply from abrute unconsciousness of all danger. There was little of preliminarymatter in this conference. Each knew his man, and the business in hand. All was direct, therefore, and to the point. Words were not to be wastedwithout corresponding fruits, though the colloquy began, on the part ofMunro, in terms of the most accredited courtesy. 

"Well, George Dexter, a pleasant morning to you in your newaccommodations. I see you have learned to make yourself perfectly athome when you visit your neighbors. "

"Why, thank you, Wat--I generally do, I reckon, as you know of old. It'snot now, I'm inclined to think, that you're to learn the ways of GeorgeDexter. He's a man, you see, Wat, that never has two ways about him. "

"That's true, friend George, I must say that for you, were I to have toput it on your tombstone. "

"It's a long ride to the Atlantic, Wat; and the time is something offyet, I reckon, when my friends will be after measuring me for a six-footaccommodation. But, look you, Wat, why are all your family here?--I didthink, when I first saw them on the trail, some with their twisted andsome with smooth bores, tomahawks, and scalping-knives, that they tookus for Indians. If you hadn't come forward now, civilly, I should havebeen for giving your boys some mutton-chops, by way of a cold cut. "

"Well, George, you may do that yet, old fellow, for here we have allcome to take our Sunday dinner. You are not in the notion that we shalllet you take possession here so easily, without even sending us word, and paying us no rent--no compensation?"

"Why, no, Wat--I knew you and your boys too well for that. I did look, you see, to have a bit of a brush, and have made some few preparationsto receive you with warmth and open arms, " was the response of Dexter, pointing as he spoke to the well-guarded condition of his intrenchments, and to his armed men, who were now thickly clustering about him. 

Munro saw plainly that this was no idle boast, and that the dispositionof his enemy's force, without some stratagem, set at defiance any attackunder present circumstances. Still he did not despair, and taught inIndian warfare, such a position was the very one to bring out hisenergies and abilities. Falling back for a moment, he uttered a fewwords in the ear of one of his party, who withdrew unobserved from hiscompanions, while he returned to the parley. 

"Well, George, I see, as you have said, that you have made somepreparations to receive us, but they are not the preparations that Ilike exactly, nor such as I think we altogether deserve. "

"That may be, Wat--and I can't help it. If you will invite yourselves todinner, you must be content with what I put before you. "

"It is not a smart speech, Dexter, that will give you free walk on thehigh road; and something is to be said about this proceeding of yours, which, you must allow, is clearly in the teeth of all the practicesprevailing among the people of the frontier. At the beginning, andbefore any of us knew the value of this or that spot, you chose yourground, and we chose ours. If you leave yours or we ours, then either ofus may take possession--not without. Is not this the custom?"

"I tell you what, Munro, I have not lived so long in the woods to listento wind-guns, and if such is the kind of argument you bring us, yourdumpy lawyer--what do you call him?--little Pippin, ought to have beenhead of your party. He will do it all day long--I've heard him myself, at the sessions, from mid-day till clean dark, and after all he saidnothing. "

"If you mean to persuade yourself, George, that we shall do no more than_talk_ for our lands and improvements, you are likely to suffersomething for your mistake. "

"Your 'lands and improvements!' Well, now, I like that--that's verygood, and just like you. Now, Wat, not to put you to too much trouble, I'd like to look a little into your title to the lands; as to theimprovements, they're at your service whenever you think proper to sendfor them. There's the old lumber-house--there's the squatter'shouse--there's where the cow keeps, and there's the hogsty, and half adozen more, all of which you're quite welcome to. I'm sure none of youwant 'em, boys--do you?"

A hearty laugh, and cries in the negative, followed this somewhattechnical retort and reply of the speaker--since, in trespass, accordingto the received forms of law, the first duty of the plaintiff is toestablish his own title. 

"Then, George, you are absolutely bent on having us show our title? Youwon't deliver up peaceably, and do justice?"

"Can't think of such a thing--we find the quarters here quite toocomfortable, and have come too far to be in a hurry to return. We aretired, too, Wat; and it's not civil in you to make such a request. Whenyou can say 'must' to us, we shall hear you, but not till then; so, myold fellow, if you be not satisfied, why, the sooner we come to shortsixes the better, " was the response of the desperado. 

The indifferent composure with which he uttered a response which was infact the signal for bloodshed, not less than the savage ferocity of hispreparations generally, amply sustained his pretension to thisappellative. Munro knew his man too well not to perceive that to this"fashion must they come at last;" and simply assuring Dexter that hewould submit his decision to his followers, he retired back upon theanxious and indignant party, who had heard a portion, and now eagerlyand angrily listened to the rest of the detail. 

Having gone over the matter, he proceeded to his arrangements for theattack with all the coolness, and certainly much of the conduct of aveteran. In many respects he truly deserved the character of one; hiscourage was unquestionable, and aroused; though he still preserved hiscoolness, even when coupled with the vindictive ferocity of the savage. His experience in all the modes of warfare, commonly known to the whiteman and Indian alike, in the woods, was complete; everything, indeed, eminently fitted and prepared him for the duties which, by commonconsent, had been devolved upon him. He now called them around him, under a clump of trees and brushwood which concealed them from sight, and thus addressed them, in a style and language graduated to theirpursuits and understandings:--

"And now, my fine fellows, you see it is just as I told you all along. You will have to fight for it, and with no half spirit. You must justuse all your strength and skill in it, and a little cunning besides. Wehave to deal with a man who would just as lief fight as eat; indeed, heprefers it. As he says himself, there's no two ways about him. He willcome to the scratch himself, and make everybody else do so. So, then, you see what's before you. It's no child's play. They count more menthan we--not to speak of their entrenchments and shelter. We mustdislodge them if we can; and to begin, I have a small contrivance in myhead which may do some good. I want two from among you to go upon a nicebusiness. I must have men quick of foot, keen of sight, and cunning as ablack-snake; and they mustn't be afraid of a knock on the head either. Shall I have my men?"

There was no difficulty in this, and the leader was soon provided. Heselected two from among the applicants for this distinction, upon whosecapacities he thought he could best rely, and led them away from theparty into the recess of the wood, where he gave them their directions, and then returned to the main body. He now proceeded to the division, into small parties, of his whole force--placing them under guides ratherthan leaders, and reserving to himself the instruction and command ofthe whole. There was still something to be done, and conceiving this tobe a good opportunity for employing a test, already determined upon, heapproached Ralph Colleton, who surveyed the whole affair with intensecuriosity. 

"And now, young 'squire, you see what we're driving at, and as ourpresent business wo'nt permit of neutrality, let us hear on which sideyou stand. Are you for us or against us?"

The question was one rather of command than solicitation, but the mannerof the speaker was sufficiently deferential. 

"I see not why you should ask the question, sir. I have no concern inyour controversy--I know not its merits, and propose simply to contentmyself with the position of a spectator. I presume there is nothingoffensive in such a station. "

"There may be, sir; and you know that when people's blood's up, theydon't stand on trifles. They are not quick to discriminate between foesand neutrals; and, to speak the truth, we are apt, in this part of thecountry, to look upon the two, at such moments, as the same. You willjudge, therefore, for yourself, of the risk you run. "

"I always do, Mr. Munro, " said the youth. "I can not see that the riskis very considerable at this moment, for I am at a loss to perceive thepolicy of your making an enemy of me, when you have already a sufficientnumber to contend with in yonder barricade. Should your men, in theirfolly, determine to do so, I am not unprepared, and I think notunwilling, to defend myself. "

"Ay, ay--I forgot, sir, you are from Carolina, where they make nothingof swallowing Uncle Sam for a lunch. It is very well, sir; you take yourrisk, and will abide the consequences though I look not to find you whenthe fray begins. "

"You shall not provoke me, sir, by your sneer; and may assure yourself, if it will satisfy you, that though I will not fight for you, I shallhave no scruple of putting a bullet through the scull of the firstruffian who gives me the least occasion to do so. "

The youth spoke indignantly, but the landlord appeared not to regard theretort. Turning to the troop, which had been decorously attentive, hebade them follow, saying

"Come on, boys--we shall have to do without the stranger; he does notfight, it seems, for the fun of the thing. If Pippin was here, doubtless, we should have arguments enough from the pair to keep _them_in whole bones, at least, if nobody else. "

A laugh of bitter scorn followed the remark of Munro, as the party wenton its way. 

Though inwardly assured of the propriety of his course, Ralph could nothelp biting his lip with the mortification he felt from thiscircumstance, and which he was compelled to suppress; and we hazardnothing in the assertion when we say, that, had his sympathies been atall enlisted with the assailing party, the sarcasm of its leader wouldhave hurried him into the very first rank of attack. As it was, such wasits influence upon him, that, giving spur to his steed, he advanced to aposition which, while it afforded him a clear survey of the whole field, exposed his person not a little to the shot of either party, as wellfrom without as from within the beleaguered district. 

The invading force soon commenced the affair. They came to the attackafter the manner of the Indians. The nature of forest-life, and itsnecessities, of itself teaches this mode of warfare. Each man took histree, his bush, or stump, approaching from cover to cover until withinrifle-reach, then patiently waiting until an exposed head, a side orshoulder, leg or arm, gave an opportunity for the exercise of his skillin marksmanship. To the keen-sighted and quick, rather than to thestrong, is the victory; and it will not be wondered at, if, educatedthus in daily adventure, the hunter is enabled to detect the slightestand most transient exhibition, and by a shot, which in most cases isfatal, to avail himself of the indiscretion of his enemy. If, however, this habit of life begets skill in attack and destruction, it has notthe less beneficial effect in creating a like skill and ingenuity in thematter of defence. In this way we shall account for the limited amountof injury done in the Indian wars, in proportion to the noise andexcitement which they make, and the many terrors they occasion. 

The fight had now begun in this manner, and, both parties being at theoutset studiously well sheltered, with little or no injury--the shotdoing no more harm to the enemy on either side than barking the branchof the tree or splintering the rock behind which they happenedindividually to be sheltered. In this fruitless manner the affray hadfor a little time been carried on, without satisfaction to anyconcerned, when Munro was beheld advancing, with the apology for a flagwhich he had used before, toward the beleaguered fortress. The parley hecalled for was acceded to, and Dexter again made his appearance. 

"What, tired already, Wat? The game is, to be sure, a shy one; but havepatience, old fellow--we shall be at close quarters directly. "

It was now the time for Munro to practise the subtlety which he haddesigned, and a reasonable prospect of success he promised himself fromthe bull-headed stupidity of his opponent. He had planned a stratagem, upon which parties, as we have seen, were despatched; and he nowcalculated his own movement in concert with theirs. It was his object toprotract the parley which he had begun, by making propositions for anarrangement which, from a perfect knowledge of the men he had to dealwith, he felt assured would not be listened to. In the meantime, pendingthe negotiation, each party left its cover, and, while they severallypreserved their original relationships, and were so situated as, at agiven signal, to regain their positions, they drew nearer to oneanother, and in some instances began a conversation. Munro was cautiousyet quick in the discussion, and, while his opponent with rough sarcasmstaunted him upon the strength of his own position, and the utterinadequacy of his strength to force it, he contented himself with sundryexhortations to a peaceable arrangement--to a giving up of thepossessions they had usurped, and many other suggestions of a likenature, which he well knew would be laughed at and rejected. Still, theobject was in part attained. The invaders, becoming more confident oftheir strength from this almost virtual abandonment of their firstresort by their opponents, grew momently less and less cautious. Therifle was rested against the rock, the sentinel took out his tobacco, and the two parties were almost intermingled. 

At length the hour had come. A wild and sudden shriek from that part ofthe beleaguered district in which the women and children werecongregated, drew all eyes in that direction where the whole line oftents and dwellings were in a bright conflagration. The emissaries haddone their work ably and well, and the devastation was complete; whilethe women and children, driven from their various sheltering-places, ranshrieking in every direction. Nor did Munro, at this time, forget hisdivision of the labor: the opportunity was in his grasp, and it was notsuffered to escape him. As the glance of Dexter was turned in thedirection of the flames, he forgot his precaution, and the moment wasnot lost. Availing himself of the occasion, Munro dashed his flag oftruce into the face of the man with whom he had parleyed, and, in theconfusion which followed, seizing him around the body with a strengthequal to his own, he dragged him, along with himself, over the low tableof rock on which they had both stood, upon the soft earth below. Herethey grappled with each other, neither having arms, and relying solelyupon skill and muscle. 

The movement was too sudden, the surprise too complete, not to give anascendency to the invaders, of which they readily availed themselves. The possession of the fortress was now in fact divided between them; anda mutual consciousness of their relative equality determined the twoparties, as if by common consent, quietly to behold the result of theaffair between the leaders. They had once recovered their feet, but wereboth of them again down, Munro being uppermost. Every artifice known tothe lusty wrestlers of this region was put in exercise, and the strugglewas variously contested. At one time the ascendency was clearly with theone, at another moment it was transferred to his opponent; victory, likesome shy arbiter, seeming unwilling to fix the palm, from an equalregard for both the claimants. Munro still had the advantage; but amomentary pause of action, and a sudden evolution of his antagonist, nowmaterially altered their position, and Dexter, with the sinuous agilityof the snake, winding himself completely around his opponent, nowwhirled him suddenly over and brought himself upon him. Extricating hisarms with admirable skill, he was enabled to regain his knee, which wasnow closely pressed upon the bosom of the prostrate man, who struggled, but in vain, to free himself from the position. 

The face of the ruffian, if we may so call the one in contradistinctionto the other, was black with fury; and Munro felt that his violation ofthe flag of truce was not likely to have any good effect upon hisdestiny. Hitherto, beyond the weapons of nature's furnishing, they hadbeen unarmed. The case was no longer so; for Dexter, having a momentaryuse of his hand, provided himself with a huge dirk-knife, guarded by astring which hung around his neck, and was usually worn in his bosom: asudden jerk threw it wide, and fixed the blade with a spring. 

It was a perilous moment for the fallen man, for the glance of thevictor, apart from the action, indicated well the vindictive spiritwithin him; and the landlord averted his eyes, though he did not speak, and upraised his hands as if to ward off the blow. The friends of Munronow hurried to his relief, but the stroke was already descending--when, on a sudden, to the surprise of all, the look of Dexter was turned fromthe foe beneath him, and fixed upon the hills in the distance--his blowwas arrested--his grasp relaxed--he released his enemy, and rosesullenly to his feet, leaving his antagonist unharmed. 

[Transcriber's note: The following chapter was misnumbered in theoriginal book. It is actually Chapter XIII. ]

CHAPTER IX. 

NEW PARTIES TO THE CONFLICT. 

This sudden and unlooked-for escape of Munro, from a fate held soinevitable as well by himself as all around him, was not more a matterof satisfaction than surprise with that experienced personage. He didnot deliberate long upon his release, however, before recovering hisfeet, and resuming his former belligerent attitude. 

The circumstance to which he owed the unlooked-for and most unwontedforbearance of his enemy was quickly revealed. Following the now commondirection of all eyes, he discerned a body of mounted and armed men, winding on their way to the encampment, in whose well-known uniform herecognised a detachment of the "Georgia Guard, " a troop kept, as theyall well knew, in the service of the state, for the purpose not merelyof breaking up the illegal and unadvised settlements of the squattersupon the frontiers, upon lands now known to be valuable, but also ofrepressing and punishing their frequent outlawries. Such a course hadbecome essential to the repose and protection of the more quiet and morehonest adventurer whose possessions they not only entered upon anddespoiled, but whose lives, in numerous instances, had been made to paythe penalty of their enterprise. Such a force could alone meet theexigency, in a country where the sheriff dared not often show himself;and, thus accoutred, and with full authority, the guard, either _enmasse_, or in small divisions like the present, was employed, at alltimes, in scouring, though without any great success, the infesteddistricts. 

The body now approaching was readily distinguishable, though yet at aconsiderable distance--the road over which it came lying upon a longridge of bald and elevated rocks. Its number was not large, comprisingnot more than forty persons; but, as the squatters were most commonlydistrustful of one another, not living together or in much harmony, andhaving but seldom, as in the present instance, a community of interestor unity of purpose, such a force was considered adequate to all theduties assigned it. There was but little of the pomp or circumstance ofmilitary array in their appearance or approach. Though dressed uniformlythe gray and plain stuffs which they wore were more in unison with thehabit of the hunter than the warrior; and, as in that country, the rifleis familiar as a household thing, the encounter with an individual ofthe troop would perhaps call for no remark. The plaintive note of asingle bugle, at intervals reverberating wildly among the hills overwhich the party wound its way, more than anything beside, indicated itscharacter; and even this accompaniment is so familiar as an appendagewith the southron--so common, particularly to the negroes, who acquire asingular and sweet mastery over it, while driving their wagons throughthe woods, or poling their boats down the streams, that one might fairlydoubt, with all these symbols, whether the advancing array were in factmore military than civil in its character. They rode on briskly in thedirection of our contending parties--the sound of the bugle seeming notonly to enliven, but to shape their course, since the stout negro whogave it breath rode considerably ahead of the troop. 

Among the squatters there was but little time for deliberation, yetnever were their leaders more seriously in doubt as to the course mostproper for their adoption in the common danger. They well knew theassigned duties of the guard, and felt their peril. It was necessary forthe common safety--or, rather, the common spoil--that something shouldbe determined upon immediately. They were now actually in arms, andcould no longer, appearing individually and at privileged occupations, claim to be unobnoxious to the laws; and it need occasion no surprise inthe reader, if, among a people of the class we have described, themeasures chosen in the present exigency were of a character the mostdesperate and reckless. Dexter, whose recent triumph gave him somethingin the way of a title to speak first, thus delivered himself:--

"Well, Munro--you may thank the devil and the Georgia guard for gettingyou out of that scrape. You owe both of them more now than you evercalculated to owe them. Had they not come in sight just at the luckymoment, my knife would have made mighty small work with your windpipe, Itell you--it did lie so tempting beneath it. "

"Yes--I thought myself a gone chick under that spur, George, and so Ibelieve thought all about us; and when you put off the finishing strokeso suddenly, I took it for granted that you had seen the devil, or someother matter equally frightful, " was the reply of Munro, in a spirit andstyle equally unique and philosophical with that which preceded it. 

"Why, it was something, though not the devil, bad enough for us in allconscience, as you know just as well as I. The Georgia guard won't givemuch time for a move. "

"Bad enough, indeed, though I certainly ought not to complain of theirappearance, " was the reply of Munro, whose recent escape seemed to runmore in his mind than any other subject. He proceeded:--

"But this isn't the first time I've had a chance so narrow for my neck;and more than once it has been said to me, that the man born for onefate can't be killed by another; but when you had me down and your knifeover me, I began to despair of my charm. "

"You should have double security for it now, Wat, and so keep yourprayers till you see the cross timbers, and the twisted trouble. There'ssomething more like business in hand now, and seeing that we shan't beable to fight one another, as we intended, all that we can do now is tomake friends as fast as possible, and prepare to fight somebody else. "

"You think just as I should in this matter, and that certainly is thewisest policy left us. It's a common cause we have to take care of, forI happen to know that Captain Fullam--and this I take to be histroop--has orders from the governor to see to us all, and clear thelands in no time. The state, it appears, thinks the land quite too goodfor such as we, and takes this mode of telling us so. Now, as I carevery little about the state--it has never done me any good, and I havealways been able to take care of myself without it--I feel just in thehumor, if all parties are willing, to have a tug in the matter before Idraw stakes. "

"That's just my notion, Wat; and d--n 'em, if the boys are only true tothe hub, we can row this guard up salt river in no time and less. Lookyou now--let's put the thing on a good footing, and have no furtherdisturbance. Put all the boys on shares--equal shares--in the diggings, and we'll club strength, and can easily manage these chaps. There's noreason, indeed, why we shouldn't; for if we don't fix them, we are doneup, every man of us. We have, as you see and have tried, a pretty strongfence round us, and, if our men stand to it, and I see not why theyshouldn't, Fullam can't touch us with his squad of fifty, ay, and ahundred to the back of 'em. "

The plan was feasible enough in the eyes of men to whom ulteriorconsequences were as nothing in comparison with the excitement of thestrife; and even the most scrupulous among them were satisfied, in alittle time, and with few arguments, that they had nothing to gain andeverything to lose by retiring from the possessions in which they hadtoiled so long. There was nothing popular in the idea of a stateexpelling them from a soil of which it made no use itself; and few amongthe persons composing the array had ever given themselves much if anytrouble, in ascertaining the nice, and with them entirely metaphysicaldistinction, between the _mine_ and _thine_ of the matter. Theproposition, therefore, startled none, and prudence having long sincewithdrawn from their counsels, not a dissenting voice was heard to thesuggestion of a union between the two parties for the purpose of commondefence. The terms, recognising all of both sides, as upon an equalfooting in the profits of the soil, were soon arranged and completed;and in the space of a few moments, and before the arrival of thenew-comers, the hostile forces, side by side, stood up for the newcontest as if there had never been any other than a community ofinterest and feeling between them. A few words of encouragement andcheer, given to their several commands by Munro and Dexter, werescarcely necessary, for what risk had their adherents to run--what tofear--what to lose? The courage of the desperado invariably increases inproportion to his irresponsibility. In fortune, as utterly destitute asin character, they had, in most respects, already forfeited the shelter, as in numberless instances they had not merely gone beyond the sanction, but had violated and defied the express interdict, of the laws; and now, looking, as such men are apt most usually to do, only to the immediateissue, and to nothing beyond it, the banditti--for such they were--withdue deliberation and such a calm of disposition as might well comportwith a life of continued excitement, proceeded again, most desperately, to set them at defiance. 

The military came on in handsome style. They were all fine-looking men;natives generally of a state, the great body of whose population arewell-formed, and distinguished by features of clear, open intelligence. They were well-mounted, and each man carried a short rifle, a sword, andpair of pistols. They rode in single file, following their commander; agentleman, in person, of great manliness of frame, possessed of muchgrace and ease of action. They formed at command, readily, in front ofthe post, which may be now said to have assumed the guise of a regularmilitary station; and Fullam, the captain, advancing with much seemingsurprise in his countenance and manner, addressed the squattersgenerally, without reference to the two leaders, who stood forth asrepresentatives of their several divisions. 

"How is this, my good fellows? what is meant by your present militaryattitude? Why are you, on the sabbath, mustering in thisguise--surrounded by barricades, arms in your hands, and placingsentinels on duty. What does all this mean?"

"We carry arms, " replied Dexter, without pause, "because it suits us todo so; we fix barricades to keep out intruders; our sentinels have alike object; and if by attitude you mean our standing here and standingthere--why, I don't see in what the thing concerns anybody butourselves!"

"Indeed!" said the Georgian; "you bear it bravely, sir. But it is not toyou only that I speak. Am I to understand you, good people, as assembledhere for the purpose of resisting the laws of the land?"

"We don't know, captain, what you mean exactly by the laws of the land, "was the reply of Munro; "but, I must say, we are here, as you see usnow, to defend our property, which the laws have no right to take fromus--none that I can see. "

"So! and is that your way of thinking, sir; and pray who are you thatanswer so freely for your neighbors?"

"One, sir, whom my neighbors, it seems, have appointed to answer forthem. "

"I am then to understand, sir, that you have expressed theirdetermination on this subject, and that your purpose is resistance toany process of the state compelling you to leave these possessions!"

"You have stated their resolution precisely, " was the reply. "They hadnotice that unauthorized persons, hearing of our prosperity, were makingpreparations to take them from us by force; and they prepared forresistance. When we know the proper authorities, we shall answerfairly--but not till then. "

"Truly, a very manful determination; and, as you have so expressedyourself, permit me to exhibit my authority, which I doubt not you willreadily recognise. This instrument requires you, at once, to remove fromthese lands--entirely to forego their use and possession, and withinforty-eight hours to yield them up to the authority which now claimsthem at your hands. " Here the officer proceeded to read all thoseportions of his commission to which he referred, with considerable showof patience. 

"All that's very well in your hands, and from your mouth, good sir; buthow know we that the document you bear is not forged and false--and thatyou, with your people there, have not got up this fetch to trick us outof those possessions which you have not the heart to fight for? We're upto trap, you see. "

With this insolent speech, Dexter contrived to show his impatience ofthe parley, and that brutal thirst which invariably prompted him toprovoke and seek for extremities. The eye of the Georgian flashed outindignant fires, and his fingers instinctively grasped the pistol at hisholster, while the strongly-aroused expression of his features indicatedthe wrath within. With a strong and successful effort, however, thoughinwardly chafed at the necessity of forbearance, he contrived, for awhile longer, to suppress any more decided evidence of emotion, while hereplied:--

"Your language, sirrah, whatever you may be, is ruffianly and insolent;yet, as I represent the country and not myself in this business, and asI would perform my duties without harshness, I pass it by. I am notbound to satisfy you, or any of your company, of the truth of thecommission under which I act. It is quite enough if I myself amsatisfied. Still, however, for the same reason which keeps me frompunishing your insolence, and to keep you from any treasonableopposition to the laws, you too shall be satisfied. Look here, foryourselves, good people--you all know the great seal of the state!"

He now held up the document from which he had read, and which containedhis authority; the broad seal of the state dangling from the parchment, distinctly in the sight of the whole gang. Dexter approached somewhatnearer, as if to obtain a more perfect view; and, while the Georgian, without suspicion, seeing his advance, and supposing that to be hisobject, held it more toward him, the ruffian, with an active and suddenbound, tore it from his hands, and leaping, followed by all his group, over his defences, was in a moment close under cover, and out of alldanger. Rising from his concealment, however, in the presence of theofficer, he tore the instrument into atoms, and dashing them towardtheir proprietor, exclaimed--

"Now, captain, what's the worth of your authority? Be off now in ahurry, or I shall fire upon you in short order!"

We may not describe the furious anger of the Georgian. Irritated beyondthe control of a proper caution, he precipitately--and without that duedegree of deliberation which must have taught him the madness andinefficacy of any assault by his present force upon an enemy soadmirably disposed of--gave the command to fire; and after theineffectual discharge, which had no other result than to call forth ashout of derision from the besieged, he proceeded to charge the barrier, himself fearlessly leading the way. The first effort to break throughthe barricades was sufficient to teach him the folly of the design and adischarge from the defences bringing down two of his men warned him ofthe necessity of duly retrieving his error. He saw the odds, andretreated with order and in good conduct, until he sheltered the wholetroop under a long hill, within rifle-shot of the enemy, whence, suddenly filing a detachment obliquely to the left, he made hisarrangements for the passage of a narrow gorge, having something of thecharacter of a road, and, though excessively broken and uneven, havingbeen frequently used as such. It wound its way to the summit of a largehill, which stood parallel with the defences, and fully commanded them;and the descent of the gorge, on the opposite side, afforded him as goodan opportunity, in a charge, of riding the squatters down, as the summitfor picking them off singly with his riflemen. 

He found the necessity of great circumspection, however, in the briefsample of controversy already given him; and with a movement in front, therefore, of a number of his force--sufficient, by employing theattention of the enemy in that quarter, to cover and disguise hispresent endeavor--he marshalled fifteen of his force apart from therest, leading them himself, as the most difficult enterprise, boldly upthe narrow pass. The skirmishing was still suffered, therefore, tocontinue on the ground where it had begun, whenever a momentary exposureof the person of besieged or besieger afforded any chance for asuccessful shot. Nor was this game very hazardous to either party. Thebeleaguered force, as we have seen, was well protected. The assailants, having generally dismounted, their horses being placed out of reach ofdanger, had, in the manner of their opponents, taken the cover of therising ground, or the fallen tree, and in this way, awaiting theprogress of events, were shielded from unnecessary exposure. It was onlywhen a position became awkward or irksome, that the shoulder or the legof the unquiet man thrust itself too pertinaciously above its shelter, and got barked or battered by a bullet; and as all parties knew too wellthe skill of their adversaries, it was not often that a shoulder or legbecame so indiscreetly prominent. 

As it was, however, the squatters, from a choice of ground, and aperfect knowledge of it, together with the additional guards anddefences which they had been enabled to place upon it, had evidently theadvantage. Still, no event, calculated to impress either party with anydecisive notion of the result, had yet taken place; and beyond theinjury done to the assailants in their first ill-advised assault, theyhad suffered no serious harm. They were confident in themselves andtheir leader--despised the squatters heartily--and, indeed, did notsuffer themselves for a moment to think of the possibility of theirdefeat. 

Thus the play proceeded in front of the defences, while Fullam silentlyand industriously plied his way up the narrow gorge, covered entirelyfrom sight by the elevated ridges of rock, which, rising up boldly oneither side of the pass, had indeed been the cause of its formation. Buthis enemy was on the alert; and the cunning of Munro--whom hiscompanions, with an Indian taste, had entitled the "Black Snake"--hadalready prepared for the reception of the gallant Georgian. With a quickeye he had observed the diminished numbers of the force in front, andreadily concluded, from the sluggishness of the affair in that quarter, that a finesse was in course of preparation. Conscious, too, from aknowledge of the post, that there was but a single mode of enfiladinghis defences, he had made his provision for the guardianship of theall-important point. Nothing was more easy than the defence of thispass, the ascent being considerable, rising into a narrow gorge, and assuddenly and in like manner descending on the point opposite that onwhich Fullam was toiling up his way. In addition to this, the gulley waswinding and brokenly circuitous--now making a broad sweep of thecircle--then terminating in a zigzag and cross direction, which, untilthe road was actually gained, seemed to have no outlet; and at no timewas the advancing force enabled to survey the pass for any distanceahead. 

Everything in the approach of the Georgian was conducted with theprofoundest silence: not the slightest whisper indicated to theassailants the presence or prospect of any interruption; and, from thefield of strife below, nothing but an occasional shot or shout gavetoken of the business in which at that moment all parties were engaged. This quiet was not destined to continue long. The forlorn hope had nowreached midway of the summit--but not, as their leader had fondlyanticipated, without observation from the foe--when the sound of a humanvoice directly above warned him of his error; and, looking up, hebeheld, perched upon a fragment of the cliff, which hung directly overthe gorge, the figure of a single man. For the first time led toanticipate resistance in this quarter, he bade the men prepare for theevent as well as they might; and calling out imperatively to theindividual, who still maintained his place on the projection of the rockas if in defiance, he bade him throw down his arms and submit. 

"Throw down my arms! and for what?" was the reply. "I'd like to know bywhat right you require us to throw down our arms. It may do in England, or any other barbarous country where the people don't know their rightsyet, to make them throw down their arms; but I reckon there's no law forit in these parts, that you can show us, captain. "

"Pick that insolent fellow off, one of you, " was the order; and in aninstant a dozen rifles were lifted, but the man was gone. A hatappearing above the cliff, was bored with several bullets; and thespeaker, who laughed heartily at the success of his trick, now resumedhis position on the cliff, with the luckless hat perched upon the staffon which it had given them the provocation to fire. He laughed andshouted heartily at the contrivance, and hurled the victim of theirwasted powder down among them. Much chagrined, and burning withindignation, Fullam briefly cried out to his men to advance quickly. Theperson who had hitherto addressed him was our old acquaintanceForrester, to whom, in the division of the duties, this post had beenassigned. He spoke again:--

"You'd better not, captain, I advise you. It will be dangerous if youcome farther. Don't trouble us, now; and be off, as soon as you can, outof harm's way. Your bones will be all the better for it; and I declare Idon't like to hurt such a fine-looking chap if I can possibly avoid it. Now take a friend's advice; 'twill be all the better for you, I tellyou. "

The speaker evidently meant well, so far as it was possible for one tomean well who was commissioned to do, and was, in fact, doing ill. TheGeorgian, however, only the more indignant at the impertinence of theaddress, took the following notice of it, uttered in the same breathwith an imperative command to his own men to hasten their advance:--

"Disperse yourselves, scoundrels, and throw down your arms!--on theinstant disperse! Lift a hand, or pull a trigger upon us, and every manshall dangle upon the branches of the first tree!"

As he spoke, leading the way, he drove his rowels into the sides of hisanimal; and, followed by his troop, bounded fearlessly up the gorge. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

CATASTROPHE--COLLETON'S DISCOVERY. 

It is time to return to Ralph Colleton, who has quite too long escapedour consideration. The reader will doubtless remember, with littledifficulty, where and under what circumstances we left him. Provoked bythe sneer and sarcasm of the man whom at the same moment he mostcordially despised, we have seen him taking a position in thecontroversy, in which his person, though not actually within theimmediate sphere of action, was nevertheless not a little exposed tosome of its risks. This position, with fearless indifference, hecontinued to maintain, unshrinkingly and without interruption, throughout the whole period and amid all the circumstances of theconflict. There was something of a boyish determination in this way toassert his courage, which his own sense inwardly rebuked; yet such isthe nature of those peculiarities in southern habits and opinions, towhich we have already referred, on all matters which relate to personalprowess and a masculine defiance of danger, that, even whileentertaining the most profound contempt for those in whose eye theexhibition was made, he was not sufficiently independent of popularopinion to brave its current when he himself was its subject. He mayhave had an additional motive for this proceeding, which most probablyenforced its necessity. He well knew that fearless courage, among thispeople, was that quality which most certainly won and secured theirrespect; and the policy was not unwise, perhaps which represented thisas a good opportunity for a display which might have the effect ofprotecting him from wanton insult or aggression hereafter. To a certainextent he was at their mercy; and conscious, from what he had seen, ofthe unscrupulous character of their minds, every exhibition of the kindhad some weight in his favor. 

It was with a lively and excited spirit that he surveyed, from themoderate eminence on which he stood, the events going on around him. Though not sufficiently near the parties (and scrupulous not to exposehimself to the chance of being for a moment supposed to be connectedwith either of them) to ascertain their various arrangements, from whathad met his observation, he had been enabled to form a very correctinference as to the general progress of affairs. He had beheld theproceedings of each array while under cover, and contending with oneanother, to much the same advantage as the spectator who surveys thegame in which two persons are at play. He could have pointed out themistakes of both in the encounter he had witnessed, and felt assuredthat he could have ably and easily amended them. His frame quivered withthe "rapture of the strife, " as Attila is said to have called theexcitation of battle; and his blood, with a genuine southern fervor, rushed to and from his heart with a bounding impulse, as some newachievement of one side or the other added a fresh interest to, and insome measure altered the face of, the affair. But when he beheld the newarray, so unexpectedly, yet auspiciously for Munro, make its appearanceupon the field, the excitement of his spirit underwent proportionateincrease; and with deep anxiety, and a sympathy now legitimate with theassailants, he surveyed the progress of an affray for which his judgmentprepared him to anticipate a most unhappy termination. As the strifeproceeded, he half forgot his precaution, and unconsciously continued, at every moment, to approach more nearly to the scene of strife. Hisheart was now all impulse, his spirit all enthusiasm; and with anunquiet eye and restless frame, he beheld the silent passage of thelittle detachment under the gallant Georgian, up the narrow gorge. Atsome distance from the hill, and on an eminence, his position enabledhim to perceive, when the party had made good their advance nearly tothe summit, the impending danger. He saw the threatening cliff, hangingas it were in mid air above them; and all his sympathies, warmly excitedat length by the fearfulness of the peril into a degree of activepartisanship which, at the beginning, a proper prudence had wellcounselled him to avoid, he put spurs to his steed, and rushing forwardto the foot of the hill, shouted out to the advancing party the natureof the danger which awaited them. He shouted strenuously, but invain--and with a feeling almost amounting to agony, he beheld the littletroop resolutely advance beneath the ponderous rock, which, held in itsplace by the slightest purchase, needed but the most moderate effort toupheave and unfix it for ever. 

It was fortunate for the youth that the situation in which he stood wasconcealed entirely from the view of those in the encampment. It had beenno object with him to place himself in safety, for the consideration ofhis own chance of exposure had never been looked to in his mind, when, under the noble impulse of humanity, he had rushed forward, if possible, to recall the little party, who either did not or were unwilling to hearhis voice of warning and prevention. Had he been beheld, there wouldhave been few of the squatters unable, and still fewer unwilling, topick him off with their rifles; and, as the event will show, the goodProvidence alone which had hitherto kept with him, rather than theforbearance of his quondam acquaintance, continued to preserve his life. 

Apprized of the ascent of the pass, and not disposed to permit of theescape of those whom the defenders of it above might spare, unobservedby his assailants in front, Dexter, with a small detachment, sallyingthrough a loophole of his fortress, took an oblique course toward thefoot of the gorge, by which to arrest the flight of the fugitives. Thiscourse brought him directly upon, and in contact with, Ralph, who stoodimmediately at its entrance, with uplifted eye, and busily engaged inshouting, at intervals, to the yet advancing assailants. The squattersapproached cautiously and unperceived; for so deeply was the youthinterested in the fate of those for whom his voice and hands were alikeuplifted, that he was conscious of nothing else at that moment ofdespair and doubt. The very silence which at that time hung over allthings, seemed of itself to cloud and obstruct, while they lulled thesenses into a corresponding slumber. 

It was well for the youth, and unlucky for the assassin, that, asDexter, with his uplifted hatchet--for fire-arms at that period he darednot use, for fear of attracting the attention of his foes--struck at hishead, his advanced foot became entangled in the root of a tree which ranabove the surface, and the impetus of his action occurring at the veryinstant in which he encountered the obstruction, the stroke fell shortof his victim, and grazed the side of his horse; while the ruffianhimself, stumbling forward and at length, fell headlong upon the ground. 

The youth was awakened to consciousness. His mind was one of that castwith which to know, to think, and to act, are simultaneous. Of readydecision, he was never at a loss, and seldom surprised into evenmomentary incertitude. With the first intimation of the attack uponhimself, his pistol had been drawn, and while the prostrate ruffian wasendeavoring to rise, and before he had well regained his feet, theunerring ball was driven through his head, and without word or effort hefell back among his fellows, the blood gushing from his mouth andnostrils in unrestrained torrents. 

The whole transaction was the work of a single instant; and before thesquatters, who came with their slain leader, could sufficiently recoverfrom the panic produced by the event to revenge his death, the youth wasbeyond their reach; and the assailing party of the guard, in front ofthe post, apprized of the sally by the discharge of the pistol, madefearful work among them by a general fire, while obliquing to theentrance of the pass just in time to behold the catastrophe, nowsomewhat precipitated by the event which had occurred below. Ralph, greatly excited, regained his original stand of survey, and withfeelings of unrepressed horror beheld the catastrophe. The Georgian hadalmost reached the top of the hill--another turn of the road gave him aglimpse of the table upon which rested the hanging and disjointed cliffof which we have spoken, when a voice was heard--a single voice--ininquiry:--

"All ready?"

The reply was immediate--

"Ay, ay; now prize away, boys, and let go. "

The advancing troop looked up, and were permitted a momentary glance ofthe terrible fate which awaited them before it fell. That moment wasenough for horror. A general cry burst from the lips of those in front, the only notice which those in the rear ever received of the dangerbefore it was upon them. An effort, half paralyzed by the awful emotionwhich came over them, was made to avoid the down-coming ruin; but withonly partial success; for, in an instant after, the ponderous mass, which hung for a moment like a cloud above them, upheaved from its bedof ages, and now freed from all stays, with a sudden, hurricane-like andwhirling impetus, making the solid rock tremble over which it rushed, came thundering down, swinging over one half of the narrow trace, bounding from one side to the other along the gorge, and with theheadlong fury of a cataract sweeping everything from before its pathuntil it reached the dead level of the plain below. The involuntaryshriek from those who beheld the mass, when, for an instant impendingabove them, it seemed to hesitate in its progress down, was more full ofhuman terror than any utterance which followed the event. With theexception of a groan, wrung forth here and there from the half-crushedvictim, in nature's agony, the deep silence which ensued was painful andappalling; and even when the dust had dissipated, and the eye wasenabled to take in the entire amount of the evil deed, the prospectfailed in impressing the senses of the survivors with so distinct asentiment of horror, as when the doubt and death, suspended in air, wereyet only threatened. 

Though prepared for the event, in one sense of the word, the great bodyof the squatters were not prepared for the unusual emotions whichsucceeded it in their bosoms. The arms dropped from the hands of many ofthem--a speechless horror was the prevailing feature of all, and allfight was over, while the scene of bloody execution was now one ofindiscriminate examination and remark with friend and foe. Ralph was thefirst to rush up the fatal pass, and to survey the horrible prospect. 

One half of the brave little corps had been swept to instant death bythe unpitying rock, without having afforded the slightest obstacle toits fearful progress. In one place lay a disembowelled steed panting itslast; mangled in a confused and unintelligible mass lay beside himanother, the limbs of his rider in many places undistinguishable fromhis own. One poor wretch, whom he assisted to extricate from beneath thebody of his struggling horse, cried to him for water, and died in theprayer. Fortunately for the few who survived the catastrophe--among whomwas their gallant but unfortunate young leader--they had, at the firstglimpse of the danger, urged on their horses with redoubled effort, andby a close approach to the surface or the rock, taking an obliquedirection wide of its probable course, had, at the time of itsprecipitation, reached a line almost parallel with the place upon whichit stood, and in this way achieved their escape without injury. Theirnumber was few, however; and not one half of the fifteen, who commencedthe ascent, ever reached or survived its attainment. 

Ralph gained the summit just in time to prevent the completion of thefoul tragedy by its most appropriate climax. As if enough had not yetbeen done in the way of crime, the malignant and merciless Rivers, ofwhom we have seen little in this affair, but by whose black and devilishspirit the means of destruction had been hit upon, which had so wellsucceeded, now stood over the body of the Georgian, with uplifted hand, about to complete the deed already begun. There was not a moment fordelay, and the youth sprung forward in time to seize and wrest theweapon from his grasp. With a feeling of undisguised indignation, heexclaimed, as the outlaw turned furiously upon him--

"Wretch--what would you? Have you not done enough? would you strike theunresisting man?"

Rivers, with undisguised effort, now turned his rage upon the intruder. His words, choked by passion, could scarce find utterance; but he spokewith furious effort at length, as he directed a wild blow with abattle-axe at the head of the youth. 

"You come for your death, and you shall have it!". 

"Not yet, " replied Ralph, adroitly avoiding the stroke and closing withthe ruffian--"you will find that I an not unequal to the struggle, though it be with such a monster as yourself. "

What might have been the event of this combat may not be said. Theparties were separated in a moment by the interposition of Forrester, but not till our hero, tearing off in the scuffle the handkerchief whichhad hitherto encircled the cheeks of his opponent, discovered thefriendly outlaw who collected toll for the Pony Club, and upon whoseface the hoof of his horse was most visibly engraven--who had so boldlyavowed his design upon his life and purse, and whom he had sofortunately and successfully foiled on his first approach to thevillage. 

The fight was over after this catastrophe; the survivors of the guard, who were unhurt, had fled; and the parties with little stir were all nowassembled around the scene of it. There was little said upon theoccasion. The wounded were taken such care of as circumstances wouldpermit; and wagons having been provided, were all removed to thevillage. Begun with too much impulse, and conducted with too littleconsideration, the struggle between the military and the outlaws had nowterminated in a manner that left perhaps but little satisfaction in theminds of either party. The latter, though generally an unlicensedtribe--an Ishmaelitish race--whose hands were against all men, were notso sure that they had not been guilty of a crime, not merely against thelaws of man and human society, but against the self-evident decrees anddictates of God; and with this doubt, at least, if not its conviction, in their thoughts, their victory, such as it was, afforded a source ofvery qualified rejoicing. 

CHAPTER XV. 

CLOSE QUARTERS. 

Colleton was by no means slow in the recognition of the ruffian, andonly wondered at his own dullness of vision in not having made thediscovery before. Nor did Rivers, with all his habitual villany, seem sowell satisfied with his detection. Perceiving himself fully known, amomentary feeling of inquietude came over him; and though he did notfear, he began to entertain in his mind that kind of agitation and doubtwhich made him, for the first time, apprehensive of the consequences. Hewas not the cool villain like Munro--never to be taken by surprise, orat disadvantage; and his eye was now withdrawn, though but for a moment, beneath the stern and searching glance which read him through. 

That tacit animal confession and acknowledgment were alone sufficient tomadden a temper such as that of Rivers. Easily aroused, his ferocity wasfearless and atrocious, but not measured or methodical. His mind was notmarked--we had almost said tempered--by that wholesome indifference ofmood which, in all matters of prime villany, is probably the mostdesirable constituent. He was, as we have seen, a creature of strongpassions, morbid ambition, quick and even habitual excitement; though, at times, endeavoring to put on that air of sarcastic superiority to allemotion which marked the character of the ascetic philosopher--acharacter to which he had not the slightest claim of resemblance, andthe very affectation of which, whenever he became aroused or irritated, was completely forgotten. Without referring--as Munro would have done, and, indeed, as he subsequently did--to the precise events which hadalready just taken place and were still in progress about him, and whichmade all parties equally obnoxious with himself to human punishment, andfor an offence far more criminal in its dye than that which the youthlaid to his charge--he could not avoid the momentary apprehension, which--succeeding with the quickness of thought the intelligent andconscious glance of Colleton--immediately came over him. His eye, seldomdistinguished by such a habit, quailed before it; and the deep malignityand festering hatred of his soul toward the youth, which it sounaccountably entertained before, underwent, by this mortification ofhis pride, a due degree of exaggeration. 

Ralph, though wise beyond his years, and one who, in a thought borrowedin part from Ovid, we may say, could rather compute them by events thanordinary time, wanted yet considerably in that wholesome, though ratherdowdyish virtue, which men call prudence. He acted on the presentoccasion precisely as he might have done in the college campus, with allthe benefits of a fair field and a plentiful crowd of backers. Withoutduly reflecting whether an accusation of the kind he preferred, at sucha time, to such men, and against one of their own accomplices, wouldavail much, if anything, toward the punishment of the criminal--not tospeak of his own risk, necessarily an almost certain consequence fromsuch an implied determination not to be _particeps criminis_ with any ofthem, he approached, and boldly denounced Rivers as a murderous villain;and urgently called upon those around him to aid in his arrest. 

But he was unheard--he had no auditors; nor did this fact result fromany unwillingness on their part to hear and listen to the charge againstone so detested as the accused. They could see and hear but of onesubject--they could comprehend no other. The events of such fresh andrecent occurrence were in all minds and before all eyes; and few, besides Forrester, either heard to understand, or listened for a momentto the recital. 

Nor did the latter and now unhappy personage appear to give it much moreconsideration than the rest. Hurried on by the force of associatingcircumstances, and by promptings not of himself or his, he had been anactive performer in the terrible drama we have already witnessed, andthe catastrophe of which he could now only, and in vain, deplore. Leaning with vacant stare and lacklustre vision against the neighboringrock, he seemed indifferent to, and perhaps ignorant of, the occurrencestaking place around him. He had interfered when the youth and Riverswere in contact, but so soon after the event narrated, that time forreflection had not then been allowed. The dreadful process of thinkinghimself into an examination of his own deeds was going on; and remorse, with its severe but salutary stings, was doing, without restraint, herrigorous duties. 

Though either actually congregated or congregating around him, andwithin free and easy hearing of his voice, now stretched to its utmost, the party were quite too busily employed in the discussion of theevents--too much immersed in the sudden stupor which followed, in nearlyall minds, their termination--to know or care much what were the hardwords which our young traveller bestowed upon the detected outlaw. Theyhad all of them (their immediate leaders excepted) been hurried on, asis perfectly natural and not unfrequently the case, by the rapidsuccession of incidents (which in their progress of excitement gave themno time for reflection), from one act to another; without perceiving, ina single pause, the several gradations by which they insensibly passedon from crime to crime;--and it was only now, and in a survey of theseveral foot-prints in their progress, that they were enabled toperceive the vast and perilous leaps which they had taken. As in theascent of the elevation, step by step, we can judge imperfectly of itsheight, until from the very summit we look down upon our place ofstarting, so with the wretched outcasts of society of whom we speak. Flushed with varying excitements, they had deputed the task ofreflection to another and a calmer time; and with the reins of soberreason relaxed, whirled on by their passions, they lost all control overtheir own impetuous progress, until brought up and checked, as we haveseen, by a catastrophe the most ruinous--the return of reason being thesignal for the rousing up of those lurking furies--terror, remorse, andmany and maddening regrets. From little to large events, we experienceor behold this every day. It is a history and all read it. It belongs tohuman nature and to society: and until some process shall be discoveredby which men shall be compelled to think by rule and under regulation, as in a penitentiary their bodies are required to work, we despair ofhaving much improvement in the general condition of human affairs. Theignorant and uneducated man is quite too willing to depute to othersthe task of thinking for him and furnishing his opinions. The greatmass are gregarious, and whether a lion or a log is chosen for theirguidance, it is still the same--they will follow the leader, ifregularly recognised as such, even though he be an ass. As if consciousof their own incapacities, whether these arise from deficiencies ofeducation or denials of birth, they forego the only habit--that ofself-examination--which alone can supply the deficiency; and with ablind determination, are willing, on any terms, to divest themselves ofthe difficulties and responsibilities of their own government. Theycrown others with all command, and binding their hands with cords, placethemselves at the disposal of those, who, in many cases, not satisfiedwith thus much, must have them hookwinked also. To this they alsoconsent, taking care, in their great desire to be slaves, to be foremostthemselves in tying on the bandage which keeps them in darkness and inchains for ever. Thus will they be content to live, however wronged, ifnot absolutely bruised and beaten; happy to escape from the cares of anindependent mastery of their own conduct, if, in this way, they can alsoescape from the noble responsibilities of independence. 

The unhappy men, thus led on, as we have seen, from the commission ofmisdemeanor to that of crime, in reality, never for a moment thoughtupon the matter. The landlord, Dexter, and Rivers, had, time out ofmind, been their oracles; and, without referring to the distinctcondition of those persons, they reasoned in a manner not uncommon withthe ignorant. Like children at play, they did not perceive the narrowboundaries which separate indulgence from licentiousness; and in thehurried excitement of the mood, inspired by the one habit, they hadpassed at once, unthinkingly and unconsciously, into the excesses of theother. They now beheld the event in its true colors, and there were butfew among the squatters not sadly doubtful upon the course taken, andsuffering corresponding dismay from its probable consequences. To a few, such as Munro and Rivers, the aspect of the thing was unchanged--theyhad beheld its true features from the outset, and knew the course, anddefied the consequences. They had already made up their minds uponit--had regarded the matter in all its phases, and suffered no surpriseaccordingly. Not so with the rest--with Forrester in particular, whosemental distress, though borne with manliness, was yet most distressing. He stood apart, saying nothing, yet lamenting inwardly, with theself-upbraidings of an agonized spirit, the easy facility with which hehad been won, by the cunning of others, into the perpetration of a crimeso foul. He either for a time heard not or understood not the chargesmade by Ralph against his late coadjutor, until brought to hisconsciousness by the increased stir among the confederates, who nowrapidly crowded about the spot, in time to hear the denial of the latterto the accusation, in language and a manner alike fierce andunqualified. 

"Hear me!" was the exclamation of the youth--his voice rising in dueeffect, and illustrating well the words he uttered, and the purpose ofhis speech:--"I charge this born and branded villain with an attemptupon my life. He sought to rob and murder me at the Catcheta pass but afew days ago. Thrown between my horse's feet in the struggle, hereceived the brand of his hoof, which he now wears upon his cheek. Therehe stands, with the well-deserved mark upon him, and which, but for theappearance of his accomplices, I should have made of a yet deepercharacter. Let him deny it if he can or dare. "

The face of Rivers grew alternately pale and purple with passion, and hestruggled in vain, for several minutes, to speak. The words came fromhim hoarsely and gratingly. Fortunately for him, Munro, whose coolvillany nothing might well discompose, perceiving the necessity ofspeech for him who had none, interfered with the following inquiry, uttered in something like a tone of surprise. 

"And what say you to this accusation, Guy Rivers? Can you not find ananswer?"

"It is false--false as hell! and you know it, Munro, as well as myself. I never saw the boy until at your house. "

"That I know, and why you should take so long to say it I can'tunderstand. It appears to me, young gentleman, " said Munro, with mostcool and delightful effrontery, "that I can set all these matters right. I can show you to be under a mistake; for I happen to know that, at thevery time of which you speak, we were both of us up in the Chestateefork, looking for a runaway slave--you know the fellow, boys--BlackTom--who has been _out_ for six months and more, and of whom I gotinformation a few weeks ago. Well, as everybody knows, the Chestateefork is at least twenty miles from the Catcheta pass; and if we were inone place, we could not, I am disposed to think, very well be inanother. "

"An _alibi_, clearly established, " was the remark of Counsellor Pippin, who now, peering over the shoulders of the youth, exhibited his face forthe first time during the controversies of the day. Pippin wasuniversally known to be possessed of an admirable scent for finding outa danger when it is well over, and when the spoils, and not the toils, of the field are to be reaped. His appearance at this moment had theeffect of arousing, in some sort, the depressed spirits of those aroundhim, by recalling to memory and into exercise the jests upon hisinfirmities, which long use had made legitimate and habitual. Calculating the probable effect of such a joke, Munro, without seemingto observe the interruption, looking significantly round among theassembly, went on to say--

"If you have been thus assaulted, young man, and I am not disposed tosay it is not as you assert, it can not have been by any of our village, unless it be that Counsellor Pippin and his fellow Hob were the persons:they were down, now I recollect, at the Catcheta pass, somewhere aboutthe time; and I've long suspected Pippin to be more dangerous thanpeople think him. "

"I deny it all--I deny it. It's not true, young man. It's not true, myfriends; don't believe a word of it. Now, Munro, how can you speak so?Hob--Hob--Hob--I say--where the devil are you? Hob--say, you rascal, wasI within five miles of the Catcheta pass to-day?" The negro, a black ofthe sootiest complexion, now advanced:--

"No, maussa. "

"Was I yesterday?"

The negro put his finger to his forehead, and the lawyer began to fretat this indication of thought, and, as it promised to continue, exclaimed--

"Speak, you rascal, speak out; you know well enough without reflecting. "The slave cautiously responded--

"If maussa want to be dere, maussa dere--no 'casion for ax Hob. "

"You black rascal, you know well enough I was not there--that I was notwithin five miles of the spot, either to-day, yesterday, or for ten daysback!"

"Berry true, maussa; if you no dere, you no dere. Hob nebber say oneting when maussa say 'noder. "

The unfortunate counsellor, desperate with the deference of hisbody-servant, now absolutely perspired with rage; while, to the infiniteamusement of all, in an endeavor to strike the pliable witness, whoadroitly dodged the blow, the lawyer, not over-active of frame, plungedincontinently forward, and paused not in his headlong determinationuntil he measured himself at length upon the ground. The laugh whichsucceeded was one of effectual discomfiture, and the helpless barristermade good his retreat from a field so unpromising by a pursuit of theswift-footed negro, taking care not to return from the chase. 

Colleton, who had regarded this interlude with stern brow and wrathfulspirit, now spoke, addressing Munro:--

"You affirm most strongly for this villain, but your speech is vain ifits object be to satisfy my doubts. What effect it may have upon ourhearers is quite another matter. You can not swear me out of myconviction and the integrity of my senses. I am resolute in the onebelief, and do not hesitate here, and in the presence of himself and allof you, to pronounce him again all the scoundrel I declared him to be atfirst--in the teeth of all your denials not less than of his! But, perhaps--as you answer for him so readily and so well--let us know, fordoubtless you can, by what chance he came by that brand, that fineimpress which he wears so happily upon his cheek. Can you not inform himwhere he got it--on what road he met with it, and whether the devil's ormy horse's heel gave it him!"

"If your object be merely to insult me, young man, I forgive it. You arequite too young for me to punish, and I have only pity for theindiscretion that moves you to unprofitable violence at this time and inthis place, where you see but little respect is shown to those whoinvade us with harsh words or actions. As for your charge againstRivers, I happen to know that it is unfounded, and my evidence alonewould be sufficient for the purpose of his defence. If, however, he wereguilty of the attempt, as you allege, of what avail is it for you tomake it? Look around you, young man!"--taking the youth aside as hespoke in moderated terms--"you have eyes and understanding, and cananswer the question for yourself. Who is here to arrest him? Who woulddesire, who would dare to make the endeavor? We are all here equallyinterested in his escape, were he a criminal in this respect, because weare all here"--and his voice fell in such a manner as to be accommodatedto the senses of the youth alone--"equally guilty of violating the samelaws, and by an offence in comparison with which that against you wouldbe entirely lost sight of. There is the courthouse, it is true--andthere the jail; but we seldom see sheriff, judge, or jailer. When theydo make their appearance, which is not often, they are glad enough toget away again. If we here suffer injury from one another, we takejustice into our own hands--as you allege yourself partly to have donein this case--and there the matter generally ends. Rivers, you think, assaulted you, and had the worst of it. You got off with but little harmyourself, and a reasonable man ought to be satisfied. Nothing more needbe said of it. This is the wisest course, let me advise you. Be quietabout the matter, go on your way, and leave us to ourselves. Bettersuffer a little wrong, and seem to know nothing of it, than risk aquarrel with those who, having once put themselves out of the shelter ofthe laws, take every opportunity of putting them at defiance. And whatif you were to push the matter, where will the sheriff or the militaryfind us? In a week and the judge will arrive, and the court will be insession. For that week we shall be out of the way. Nobody shallknow--nobody can find us. This day's work will most probably give us alla great itch for travel. "

Munro had, in truth, made out a very plain case; and hisrepresentations, in the main, were all correct. The youth felt theirforce, and his reason readily assented to the plain-sense course whichthey pointed out. Contenting himself, therefore, with reiterating thecharge, he concluded with saying that, for the present, he would let theaffair rest. "Until the ruffian"--thus he phrased it--"had answered thepenalties of the laws for his subsequent and more heinous offenceagainst them, he should be silent. "

"But I have not done with _you_, young sir, " was the immediate speech ofRivers--his self-confidence and much of his composure returned, as, witha fierce and malignant look, and a quick stride, he approached theyouth. "You have thought proper to make a foul charge against me, whichI have denied. It has been shown that your assertion is unfounded, yetyou persist in it, and offer no atonement. I now demand redress--theredress of a gentleman. You know the custom of the country, and regardyour own character, I should think, too highly to refuse mesatisfaction. You have pistols, and here are rifles and dirks. Take yourchoice. "

The youth looked upon him with ineffable scorn as he replied--

"You mistake me, sirrah, if you think I can notice your call withanything but contempt. "

"What! will you not fight--not fight? not back your words?"

"Not with you!" was the calm reply. 

"You refuse me satisfaction, after insulting me!"

"I always took him for a poor chicken, from the first time I set eyes onhim, " said one of the spectators. 

"Yes, I didn't think much of him, when he refused to join us, " was theremark of another. 

"This comes of so much crowing; Brag is a good dog, but Holdfast isbetter, " went on a third, and each man had his remark upon Colleton'sseeming timidity. Scorn and indignation were in all faces around him;and Forrester, at length awakened from his stupor by the tide of fiercecomment setting in upon his friend from all quarters, now thought ittime to interfere. 

"Come, 'squire, how's this? Don't give way--give him satisfaction, as hecalls it, and send the lead into his gizzard. It will be no harm done, in putting it to such a creature as that. Don't let him crow over oldCarolina--don't, now, squire! You can hit him as easy as a barndoor, forI saw your shot to-day; don't be afraid, now--stand up, and I'll backyou against the whole of them. "

"Ay, bring him forward, Forrester. Let him be a man, if he can, " was thespeech of one of the party. 

"Come, 'squire, let me say that you are ready. I'll mark off the ground, and you shall have fair play, " was the earnest speech of the woodman interms of entreaty. 

"You mistake me greatly, Forrester, if you suppose for a moment that Iwill contend on equal terms with such a wretch. He is a common robberand an outlaw, whom I have denounced as such, and whom I can nottherefore fight with. Were he a gentleman, or had he any pretensions tothe character, you should have no need to urge me on, I assure you. "

"I know that, 'squire, and therefore it provokes me to think that theskunk should get off. Can't you, now, lay aside the gentleman just longenough to wing him? Now, do try!"

The youth smiled as he shook his head negatively. Forrester, with greatanxiety, proceeded:--

"But, 'squire, they won't know your reason for refusing, and they willset you down as afear'd. They will call you a coward!"

"And what if they do, Forrester? They are not exactly the people aboutwhose opinions I give myself any concern. I am not solicitous to gaincredit for courage among them. If any of them doubt it, let him try me. Let one of them raise a hand or lift a finger upon me, and make theexperiment. They will then find me ready and willing enough to defendmyself from any outrage, come from what quarter it may. "

"I'm afraid, 'squire, they can't be made to understand the differencebetween a gentleman and a squatter. Indeed, it isn't reasonable thatthey should, seeing that such a difference puts them out of any chanceof dressing a proud fellow who carries his head too high. If you don'tfight, 'squire, I must, if it's only for the honor of old Carolina. Sohere goes. "

The woodman threw off his coat, and taking up his rifle, substituted anew for the old flint, and furnishing the pan with fresh priming, beforeour hero could well understand the proposed and novel arrangement so asto interpose in its arrest, he advanced to the spot where Rivers stood, apparently awaiting the youth's decision, and, slapping him upon theshoulder, thus addressed him:--

"I say, Guy Rivers, the 'squire thinks you too great a black guard forhim to handle, and leaves all the matter to me. Now, you see, as I'vedone _that_ to-day which makes me just as great a blackguard asyourself, I stand up in his place. So here's for you. You needn't makeany excuse, and say you have no quarrel with me, for, as I am to handleyou in his place, you will consider me to say everything that he hassaid--every word of it; and, in addition to that, if more be necessary, you must know I think you a mere skunk, and I've been wanting to have afair lick at you for a monstrous long season. "

"You shall not interfere, Forrester, and in this manner, on anypretence, for the shelter of the coward, who, having insulted me, nowrefuses to give me satisfaction. If you have anything to ask at myhands, when I have done with him, I shall be ready for you, " was thereply of Rivers. 

"You hear that 'squire? I told you so. He has called you a coward, andyou will have to fight him at last. "

"I do not see the necessity for that, Forrester, and beg that you willundertake no fighting on my account. When my honor is in danger, I amman enough to take care of it myself; and, when I am not, my friend cando me no service by taking my place. As for this felon, the hangman forhim--nobody else. "

Maddened, not less by the cool determination of Colleton than by thecontemptuous conclusion of his speech, Rivers, without a word, sprangfiercely upon him with a dirk, drawn from his bosom with concertedmotion as he made the leap--striking, as he approached, a blow at theunguarded breast of the youth, which, from the fell and fiendish aim andeffort, must have resulted fatally had he not been properly prepared forsome such attempt. Ralph was in his prime, however, of vigorous make andmuscle, and well practised in the agile sports and athletic exercises ofwoodland life. He saw the intent in the mischievous glance of hisenemy's eye, in time to guard himself against it; and, suddenly changinghis position, as the body of his antagonist was nearly upon him, heeluded the blow, and the force and impetus employed in the effort borethe assassin forward. Before he could arrest his own progress, the youthhad closed in upon him, and by a dexterous use of his foot, in a mannerwell known to the American woodman, Rivers, without being able tointerpose the slightest obstacle to the new direction thus given him, was forcibly hurled to the ground. 

Before he could recover, the youth was upon him. His blood was now atfever-heat, for he had not heard the taunts upon his courage, from allaround him, with indifference, though he had borne them with a laudableshow of patience throughout. His eye shot forth fires almost asmalignant as those of his opponent. One of his hands was wreathed in theneckcloth of his prostrate foe, while the other was employed in freeinghis own dirk from the encumbrances of his vest. This took little time, and he would not have hesitated in the blow, when the interposition ofthose present bore him off, and permitted the fallen and stunned man torecover his feet. It was at this moment that the honest friendship ofForrester was to be tried and tested. The sympathies of those aroundwere most generally with the ruffian; and the aspect of affairs wassomething unlucky, when the latter was not only permitted to recommencethe attack, but when the youth was pinioned to the ground by others ofthe gang, and disarmed of all defence. The moment was perilous; and, whooping like a savage, Forrester leaped in between, dealing at the sametime his powerful blows from one to the other, right and left, andmaking a clear field around the youth. 

"Fair play is all I ask, boys--fair play, and we can lick the whole ofyou. Hurra for old Carolina. Who's he says a word against her? Let himstand up, and be knocked down. How's it, 'squire--you an't hurt, Ireckon? I hope not; if you are, I'll have a shot with Rivers myself onthe spot. "

But Munro interposed: "We have had enough outcry, Forrester. Let us haveno more. Take this young man along with you, or it will be worse forhim. "

"Well, Wat Munro, all the 'squire wants is fair play--fair play for bothof us, and we'll take the field, man after man. I tell you what, Munro, in our parts the chickens are always hatched with spurs, and thechildren born with their eye-teeth. We know something, too, aboutwhipping our weight in wild-cats; and until the last governor of ourstate had all the bears killed, because they were getting civilized, wecould wrestle with 'em man for man, and throw seven out of ten. "

CHAPTER XVI. 

CONSPIRACY--WARNING. 

Ralph was not permitted to return to the village that night--his sturdyfriend Forrester insisting upon his occupying with him the little lodgeof his own, resting on the borders of the settlement, and almost buriedin the forest. Here they conversed until a late hour, previous toretiring; the woodman entering more largely into his own history than hehad done before. He suffered painfully from the occurrences of the day:detailed the manner in which he had been worked upon by Munro to takepart in the more fearful transaction with the guard--how the excitementof the approaching conflict had defeated his capacities of thought, andled him on to the commission of so great a part of the general offence. Touching the initial affair with the squatters, he had no compunctiousscruples. That was all fair game in his mode of thinking, and even hadblood been spilled more freely than it was, he seemed to think he shouldhave had no remorse. But on the subject of the murder of the guard, forso he himself called his crime, his feeling was so intensely agonizingthat Ralph, though as much shocked as himself at the events, found itnecessary to employ sedative language, and to forbear all manner ofrebuke. 

At an early hour of the morning, they proceeding in company to thevillage--Forrester having to complete certain arrangements prior to hisflight; which, by the advice of Colleton, he had at once determinedupon. Such, no doubt, was the determination of many among them nothaving those resources, in a familiarity with crime and criminalassociations, which were common to Munro and Rivers. 

The aspect of the village was somewhat varied from its wont. Its peoplewere not so far gone in familiarity with occurrences like those of thepreceding day, as to be utterly insensible to their consequences; and achill inertness pervaded all faces, and set at defiance every endeavoron the part of the few who had led, to put the greater number in betterspirits, either with themselves or those around them. They were menhabituated, it may be, to villanies; but of a petty description, and farbeneath that which we have just recorded. It is not, therefore, to bewondered at, if, when the momentary impulse had passed away, they feltnumerous misgivings. They were all assembled, as on the daybefore--their new allies with them--arms in their hands, but seeminglywithout much disposition for their use. They sauntered unconsciouslyabout the village, in little groups or individually, without concert orcombination, and with suspicious or hesitating eye. Occasionally, theaccents of a single voice broke the general silence, though but for amoment; and then, with a startling and painful influence, which imparteda still deeper sense of gloom to the spirits of all. It appeared to comeladen with a mysterious and strange terror, and the speaker, aptlypersonifying the Fear in Collins's fine "Ode on the Passions, " "shrunkfrom the sound himself had made. "

Ralph, in company with Forrester, made his appearance among thesquatters while thus situated. Seeing them armed as on the previous day, he was apprehensive of some new evil; and as he approached the severalstray groups, made known his apprehensions to his companion in stronglanguage. He was not altogether assured of Forrester's own compunction, and the appearance of those around almost persuaded him to doubt hissincerity. 

"Why are these people assembled, Forrester--is there anything new--isthere more to be done--more bloodletting--more crime and violence--arethey still unsatisfied?"

The earnestness of the inquirer was coupled with a sternness of eye andwarmth of accent which had in them much, that, under other circumstancesand at other times, would have been sorely offensive to the sturdywoodman; whose spirit, anything in the guise of rebuke would have beencalculated to vex. But he was burdened with thoughts at the moment, which, in a sufficiently meritorial character, humbled him with ascourge that lacerated at every stroke. 

"God forbid, 'squire, that more harm should be done. There has been moredone already than any of us shall well get rid of. I wish to heaven Ihad taken caution from you. But I was mad, 'squire, mad to the heart, and became the willing tool of men not so mad, but more evil than I! Godforbid, sir, that there should be more harm done. "

"Then why this assembly? Why do the villagers, and these ragged andsavage fellows whom you have incorporated among you--why do they loungeabout idly, with arms in their hands, and faces that still seem bent onmischief?"

"Because, 'squire, it's impossible to do otherwise. We can't go to work, for the life of us, if we wished to; we all feel that we have gone toofar, and those, whose own consciences do not trouble them, are yet toomuch troubled by fear of the consequences to be in any hurry to take uphandspike or hammer again in this quarter of the world. "

The too guilty man had indeed spoken his own and the condition of thepeople among whom he lived. They could now see and feel the fruits ofthat rash error which had led them on; but their consciousness came toolate for retrieval, and they now wondered, with a simplicity trulysurprising to those who know with what facility an uneducated and warmpeople may be led to their own ruin, that this consciousness had notcome to them before. Ralph, attended by Forrester, advanced among thecrowd. As he did so, all eyes were turned upon him, and a sullenconference took place, having reference to himself, between Munro and afew of the ringleaders. This conference was brief, and as soon as it wasconcluded, the landlord turned to the youth, and spoke as follows:--

"You were a witness, Mr. Colleton, of this whole transaction, and cansay whether the soldiers were not guilty of the most unprovoked assaultupon us, without reason or right. "

"I can say no such thing, sir, " was his reply. "On the contrary, I amcompelled to say, that a more horrible and unjustifiable transaction Inever witnessed. I must say that they were not the aggressors. "

"How unjustifiable young sir?" quickly and sternly retorted the landlord"Did you not behold us ridden down by the soldiery? did they not attackus in our trenches--in our castle as it were? and have we not a right todefend our castle from assailants? They took the adventure at theirperil, and suffered accordingly. "

"I know not what your title may be to the grounds you have defended sosuccessfully, and which you have styled your castle, nor shall I stop toinquire. I do not believe that your right either gave you possession orauthorized your defence in this cruel manner. The matter, however, isbetween you and your country. My own impressions are decidedly againstyou; and were I called upon for an opinion as to your mode of assertingyour pretended right, I should describe it as brutal and barbarous, andwholly without excuse or justification, whether examined by divine orhuman laws. "

"A sermon, a sermon from the young preacher, come, boys, give him OldHundred. Really, sir, you promise almost as well as the parson you heardyesterday; and will take lessons from him, if advised by me. But goon--come to a finish--mount upon the stump, where you can be better seenand heard. "

The cheek of the youth glowed with indignation at the speech of theruffian, but he replied with a concentrated calmness that was full ofsignificance:--

"You mistake me greatly, sir, if you imagine I am to be provoked intocontest with you by any taunt which you can utter. I pride myselfsomewhat in the tact with which I discover a ruffian, and having, at anearly period of your acquaintance, seen what you were, I can not regardyou in any other than a single point of view. Were you not what I knowyou to be, whatever might have been the difference of force between us, I should ere this have driven my dirk into your throat. "

"Why, that's something like, now--that's what I call manly. You do seemto have some pluck in you, young sir, though you might make more use ofit. I like a fellow that can feel when he's touched; and don't think abit the worse of you that you think ill of me, and tell me so. Butthat's not the thing now. We must talk of other matters. You must answera civil question or two for the satisfaction of the company. We want toknow, sir, if we may apprehend any interference on your part between usand the state. Will you tell the authorities what you saw?"

The youth made no answer to this question, but turning contemptuouslyupon his heel, was about to leave the circle, around which the assembly, in visible anxiety for his reply, was now beginning to crowd. 

"Stay, young master, not so fast. You must give us some answer beforeyou are off. Let us know what we are to expect. Whether, if called uponby any authority, you would reveal what you know of this business?" wasthe further inquiry of Munro. 

"I certainly should--every word of it. I should at once say that youwere all criminal, and describe you as the chief actor and instigator inthis unhappy affair. "

The response of Colleton had been unhesitating and immediate; and havinggiven it, he passed through the throng and left the crowd, which, sullenly parting, made way for him in front. Guy Rivers, in an undertone, muttered in the ear of Munro as he left the circle:--

"That, by the eternal God, he shall never do. Are you satisfied now ofthe necessity of silencing him?"

Munro simply made a sign of silence, and took no seeming note of hisdeparture; but his determination was made, and there was now no obstaclein that quarter to the long-contemplated vengeance of his confederate. 

While this matter was in progress among the villagers, Counsellor Pippinvexed himself and his man Hob not a little with inquiries as to themanner in which he should contrive to make some professional businessgrow out of it. He could not well expect any of the persons concerned, voluntarily to convict themselves; and his thoughts turned necessarilyupon Ralph as the only one on whom he could rest his desire in thisparticular. We have seen with what indifferent success his own adventureon the field of action, and when the danger was all well over, wasattended; but he had heard and seen enough to persuade himself that butlittle was wanting, without appearing in the matter himself, to induceRalph to prosecute Rivers for the attempt upon his life, a charge which, in his presence, he had heard him make. He calculated in this way tosecure himself in two jobs--as magistrate, to institute the initialproceedings by which Rivers was to be brought to trial, and the expenseof which Ralph was required to pay--and, as an attorney-at-law, and theonly one of which the village might boast, to have the satisfaction ofdefending and clearing the criminal. 

Such being the result of his deliberations, he despatched Hob with anote to Ralph, requesting to see him at the earliest possible moment, upon business of the last importance. Hob arrived at the inn just at thetime when, in the court in front, Ralph, in company with the woodman, had joined the villagers there assembled. Hob, who from long familiaritywith the habits of his master, had acquired something of a likedisposition, felt exceedingly anxious to hear what was going on; butknowing his situation, and duly valuing his own importance as theservant of so great a man as the village-lawyer, he conceived itnecessary to proceed with proper caution. 

It is more than probable that his presence would have been unregardedhad he made his approaches freely and with confidence; but Hob wasoutrageously ambitious, and mystery was delightful. He went to work inthe Indian manner, and what with occasionally taking the cover, now of abush, now of a pine tree, and now of a convenient hillock, Hob had gothimself very comfortably lodged in the recess of an old ditch, originally cut to carry off a body of water which rested on what was nowin part the public mall. Becoming interested in the proceedings, andhearing of the departure of Ralph, to whom he had been despatched, hishead gradually assumed a more elevated position--he soon forgot hisprecaution, and the shoulders of the spy, neither the most diminutivenor graceful, becoming rather too protuberant, were saluted with a smartassault, vigorously kept up by the assailant, to whom the use of thehickory appeared a familiar matter. Hob roared lustily, and was draggedfrom his cover. The note was found upon him, and still further tended toexaggerate the hostile feeling which the party now entertained for theyouth. Under the terrors of the lash, Hob confessed a great deal morethan was true, and roused into a part forgetfulness of their offence bythe increased prospect of its punishment, which the negro hadunhesitatingly represented as near at hand, they proceeded to the officeof the lawyer. 

It was in vain that Pippin denied all the statements of his negro--hisnote was thrust into his face; and without scruple, seizing upon hispapers, they consigned to the flames, deed, process, and document--allthe fair and unfair proceedings alike, of the lawyer, collectedcarefully through a busy period of twenty years' litigation. They wouldhave proceeded in like manner to the treatment of Ralph, but that GuyRivers himself interposed to allay, and otherwise direct their fury. Thecunning ruffian well knew that Forrester would stand by the youth, andunwilling to incur any risk, where the game in another way seemed sosecure, he succeeded in quieting the party, by claiming to himself theprivilege, on the part of his wounded honor, of a fair field with onewho had so grievously assailed it. Taking the landlord aside, therefore, they discussed various propositions for taking the life of one hatefulto the one person and dangerous to them all. Munro was now not unwillingto recognise the necessity of taking him off; and without entering intothe feelings of Rivers, which were almost entirely personal, he gave hisassent to the deed, the mode of performing which was somewhat to dependupon circumstances. These will find their due development as we proceed. 

In the meanwhile, Ralph had returned to the village-inn, encountering, at the first step, upon entering the threshold, the person of the veryinteresting girl, almost the only redeeming spirit of thatestablishment. She had heard of the occurrence--as who, indeed, hadnot--and the first expression of her face as her eyes met those ofRalph, though with a smile, had in it something of rebuke for not havingtaken the counsel which she had given him on his departure from theplace of prayer. With a gentleness strictly in character, he conversedwith her for some time on indifferent topics--surprised at every utteredword from her lips--so musical, so true to the modest weaknesses of herown, yet so full of the wisdom and energy which are the more legitimatecharacteristics of the other sex. At length she brought him back to thesubject of the recent strife. 

"You must go from this place, Mr. Colleton--you are not safe in thishouse--in this country. You can now travel without inconvenience fromyour late injuries, which do not appear to affect you; and the sooneryou are gone the better for your safety. There are those here"--and shelooked around with a studious caution as she spoke, while her voice sunkinto a whisper--"who only wait the hour and the opportunity to"--andhere her voice faltered as if she felt the imagined prospect--"to putyou to a merciless death. Believe me, and in your confident strength donot despise my warnings. Nothing but prudence and flight can save you. "

"Why, " said the youth, smiling, and taking her hand in reply, "whyshould I fear to linger in a region, where one so much more alive to itssternnesses than myself may yet dare to abide? Think you, sweet Lucy, that I am less hardy, less fearless of the dangers and the difficultiesof this region than yourself? You little know how much at this moment myspirit is willing to encounter, " and as he spoke, though his lips wore asmile, there was a stern sadness in his look, and a gloomy contractionof his brow, which made the expression one of the fullest melancholy. 

The girl looked upon him with an eye full of a deep, though unconsciousinterest. She seemed desirous of searching into that spirit which he haddescribed as so reckless. Withdrawing her hand suddenly, however, as ifnow for the first time aware of its position, she replied hastily:--

"Yet, I pray you, Mr. Colleton, let nothing make you indifferent to thewarning I have given you. There is danger--more danger here to you thanto me--though, to me"--the tears filled in her eyes as she spoke, andher head sunk down on her breast with an air of the saddestself-abandonment--"there is more than death. "

The youth again took her hand. He understood too well the significationof her speech, and the sad sacrifice which it referred to; and aninterest in her fate was awakened in his bosom, which made him for amoment forget himself and the gentle Edith of his own dreams. 

"Command me, Miss Munro, though I peril my life in your behalf; say thatI can serve you in anything, and trust me to obey. "

She shook her head mournfully, but without reply. Again he pressed hisservices, which were still refused. A little more firmly, however, sheagain urged his departure. 

"My solicitations have no idle origin. Believe me, you are in danger, and have but little time for delay. I would not thus hurry you, but thatI would not have you perish. No, no! you have been gentle and kind, asfew others have been, to the poor orphan; and, though I would still seeand hear you, I would not that you should suffer. I would rather suffermyself. "

Much of this was evidently uttered with the most childishunconsciousness. Her mind was obviously deeply excited with her fears, and when the youth assured her, in answer to her inquiries, that heshould proceed in the morning on his journey, she interrupted himquickly--

"To-day--to-day--now--do not delay, I pray you. You know not the perilswhich a night may bring forth. "

When assured that he himself could perceive no cause of peril, and when, with a manner sufficiently lofty, he gave her to understand that afeeling of pride alone, if there were no other cause, would prevent aprocedure savoring so much of flight, she shook her head mournfully, though saying nothing. In reply to his offer of service, she returnedhim her thanks, but assuring him he could do her none, she retired fromthe apartment. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

REMORSE. 

During the progress of the dialogue narrated in the conclusion of ourlast chapter, Forrester had absented himself, as much probably with adelicate sense of courtesy, which anticipated some further results thancame from it, as with the view to the consummation of some privatematters of his own. He now returned, and signifying his readiness toRalph, they mounted their horses and proceeded on a proposed ride out ofthe village, in which Forrester had promised to show the youth apleasanter region and neighborhood. 

This ride, however, was rather of a gloomy tendency, as its influenceswere lost in the utterance and free exhibition to Ralph of the mentalsufferings of his companion. Naturally of a good spirit and temper, hisheart, though strong of endurance and fearless of trial, had not beengreatly hardened by the world's circumstance. The cold droppings of thebitter waters, however they might have worn into, had not altogetherpetrified it; and his feelings, coupled with and at all times acted uponby a southern fancy, did not fail to depict to his own sense, and in themost lively colors, the offence of which he had been guilty. 

It was with a reproachful and troublesome consciousness, therefore, thathe now addressed his more youthful companion on the subject so fearfullypresented to his thought He had already, in their brief acquaintance, found in Ralph a firm and friendly adviser, and acknowledging in hisperson all the understood superiorities of polished manners and correcteducation, he did not scruple to come to him for advice in his presentdifficulties. Ralph, fully comprehending his distress, and conscious howlittle of his fault had been premeditated, --estimating, too, the manygood qualities apparent in his character--did not withhold his counsel. 

"I can say little to you now, Forrester, in the way of advice, so longas you continue to herd with the men who have already led you into somuch mischief. You appear to me, and must appear to all men, whilecoupled with such associates, as voluntarily choosing your ground, andtaking all the consequences of its position. As there would seem nonecessity for your dwelling longer among them, you certainly do makeyour choice in thus continuing their associate. "

"Not so much a matter of choice, now, 'squire, as you imagine. It was, to be sure, choice at first, but then I did not know the people I had todeal with; and when I did, you see, the circumstances were altered. "

"How, --by what means?"

"Why, then, 'squire, you must know, and I see no reason to keep the thingfrom you, I took a liking, a short time after I came here, to a youngwoman, the daughter of one of our people, and she to me--at least so shesays, and I must confess I'm not unwilling to believe her; though it isdifficult to say--these women you know--" and as he left the unfinishedsentence, he glanced significantly to the youth's face, with anexpression which the latter thus interpreted--

"Are not, you would say, at all times to be relied on. "

"Why, no, 'squire--I would not exactly say that--that might be somethingtoo much of a speech. I did mean to say, from what we see daily, that itisn't always they know their own minds. "

"There is some truth, Forrester, in the distinction, and I have thoughtso before. I am persuaded that the gentler sex is far less given todeceit than our own; but their opinions and feelings, on the other hand, are formed with infinitely more frequency and facility, and are morereadily acted upon by passing and occasional influences. Their verysusceptibility to the most light and casual impressions, is, of itself, calculated to render vacillating their estimate of things andcharacters. They are creatures of such delicate construction, and theiraffections are of such like character, that, like all fine machinerythey are perpetually operated on by the atmosphere, the winds, the dew, and the night. The frost blights and the sun blisters; and a kind orstern accent elevates or depresses, where, with us, it might passunheeded or unheard. 

"We are more cunning--more shy and cautious; and seldom, after a certainage, let our affections out of our own custody. We learn very soon inlife--indeed, we are compelled to learn, in our own defence, at a veryearly period--to go into the world as if we were going into battle. Wesend out spies, keep sentinels on duty, man our defences, carry arms inour bosoms, which we cover with a buckler, though, with the policy of acourt, we conceal that in turn with a silken and embroidered vestment. We watch every erring thought--we learn to be equivocal of speech; andour very hearts, as the Indians phrase it, are taught to speak theirdesires with a double tongue. We are perpetually on the lookout forenemies and attack; we dread pitfalls and circumventions, and we feelthat every face which we encounter is a smiling deceit--every honeyedword a blandishment meant to betray us. These are lessons which society, as at present constituted, teaches of itself. 

"With women the case is essentially different. They have few of theseinfluences to pervert and mislead. They have nothing to do in themarket-place--they are not candidates for place or power--they have notthe ambition which is always struggling for state and for self; but, with a wisdom in this, that might avail us wonderfully in all otherrespects, they are kept apart, as things for love and worship--domesticdivinities, whose true altar-place is the fireside; whose true sway isover fond hearts, generous sensibilities, and immaculate honor. Whereshould they learn to contend with guile--to acquire cunning andcircumspection--to guard the heart--to keep sweet affections locked upcoldly, like mountain waters? Shall we wonder that they sometimesdeceive themselves rather than their neighbors--that they sometimesmisapprehend their own feelings, and mistake for love some lessabsorbing intruder, who but lights upon the heart for a single instant, as a bird upon his spray, to rest or to plume his pinions, and be offwith the very next zephyr. But all this is wide of the mark, Forrester, and keeps you from your story. "

"My story isn't much, Master Colleton, and is easily told. I love KateAllen, and as I said before, I believe Kate loves me; and though it bescarcely a sign of manliness to confess so much, yet I must say to you, 'squire, that I love her so very much that I can not do without her. "

"I honor your avowal, Forrester, and see nothing unmanly or unbecomingin the sentiment you profess. On the contrary, such a feeling, in mymind, more truly than any other, indicates the presence and possessionof those very qualities out of which true manhood is made. The creaturewho prides himself chiefly upon his insensibilities, has no more claimto be considered a human being than the trees that gather round us, orthe rocks over which we travel. "

"Well, 'squire, I believe you are right, and I am glad that such is youropinion, for now I shall be able to speak to you more freely upon thissubject. Indeed, you talk about the thing so knowingly, that I shouldnot be surprised, 'squire, to find out that you too had something of thesame sort troubling your heart, though here you are travelling far fromhome and among strangers. "

The remark of Forrester was put with an air of arch inquiry. A slightshadow passed over and clouded the face of the youth, and for a momenthis brow was wrinkled into sternness; but hastily suppressing theawakened emotion, whatever its origin might have been, he simplyreplied, in an indirect rebuke, which his companion very readilycomprehended:--

"You were speaking of your heart, I believe, Forrester, and not of mine. If you please, we will confine ourselves to the one territory, particularly as it promises to find us sufficient employment of itself, without rendering it necessary that we should cross over to any other. "

"It's a true word, 'squire--the business of the one territory issufficient for me, at this time, and more than I shall well get throughwith: but, though I know this, somehow or other I want to forget it all, if possible; and sometimes I close my eyes in the hope to shut out uglythoughts. "

"The feeling is melancholy enough, but it is just the one which shouldtest your manhood. It is not for one who has been all his life buffetingwith the world and ill-fortune, to despond at every mischance ormisdeed. Proceed with your narrative; and, in providing for the future, you will be able to forget not a little of the past. "

"You are right, 'squire; I will be a man, and stand my chance, whethergood or ill, like a man, as I have always been. Well, as I was saying, Kate is neither unkind nor unwilling, and the only difficulty is withher father. He is now mighty fond of the needful, and won't hear to ourmarriage until I have a good foundation, and something to go upon. It isthis, you see, which keeps me here, shoulder to shoulder with these menwhom I like just as little perhaps as yourself; and it was because thesoldiers came upon us just as I was beginning to lay up a little from myearnings, that made me desperate. I dreaded to lose what I had been solong working for; and whenever the thought of Kate came through mybrain, I grew rash and ready for any mischief--and this is just the wayin which I ran headlong into this difficulty. "

"It is melancholy, Forrester, to think that, with such a feeling as thatyou profess for this young woman, you should be so little regardful ofher peace or your own; that you should plunge so madly into strife andcrime, and proceed to the commission of acts which not only embitteryour life, but must defeat the very hopes and expectations for which youlive. "

"It's the nature of the beast, " replied the woodman, with a melancholyshake of the head, in a phrase which has become a proverb of familiaruse in the South. "It's the nature of the beast, 'squire: I never seemto think about a thing until it's all over, and too late to mend it. It's a sad misfortune to have such a temper, and so yesterday's worktells me much more forcibly than I can ever tell myself. But what am Ito do, 'squire? that's what I want to know. Can you say nothing to mewhich will put me in better humor--can you give me no advice, noconsolation? Say anything--anything which will make me think less aboutthis matter. "

The conscience of the unhappy criminal was indeed busy, and he spoke intones of deep, though suppressed emotion and energy. The youth did notpretend to console--he well knew that the mental nature would have itscourse, and to withstand or arrest it would only have the effect offurther provoking its morbidity. He replied calmly, but feelingly--

"Your situation is unhappy, Forrester, and calls for serious reflection. It is not for me to offer advice to one so much more experienced thanmyself. Yet my thoughts are at your service for what they are worth. Youcan not, of course, hope to remain in the country after this; yet, inflying from that justice to which you will have made no atonement, youwill not necessarily escape the consequences of your crime, which, Ifeel satisfied, will, for a long season, rest heavily upon a spirit suchas yours. Your confederates have greatly the advantage of you in thisparticular. The fear of human penalties is with them the only fear. Yourseverest judge will be your own heart, and from that you may not fly. With regard to your affections, I can say little. I know not what may beyour resources--your means of life, and the nature of those enterpriseswhich, in another region, you might pursue. In the West you would besecure from punishment; the wants of life in the wilderness are few, andof easy attainment: why not marry the young woman, and let her fly withyou to happiness and safety?"

"And wouldn't I do so, 'squire?--I would be a happy fellow if I could. But her father will never consent. He had no hand in yesterday'sbusiness, and I wonder at that too, for he's mighty apt at all suchscrapes; and he will not therefore be so very ready to perceive thenecessity of my flight--certainly not of hers, she being his only child;and, though a tough old sort of chap, he's main fond of her. "

"See him about it at once, then; and, if he does not consent, the onlydifficulty is in the delay and further protraction of your union. Itwould be very easy, when you are once well settled, to claim her as yourwife. "

"That's all very true and very reasonable, 'squire; but it's ratherhard, this waiting. Here, for five years, have I been playing this sortof game, and it goes greatly against the grain to have to begin anew andin a new place. But here's where the old buck lives. It's quite a snugfarm, as you may see. He's pretty well off, and, by one little end orthe other, contrives to make it look smarter and smarter every year; butthen he's just as close as a corkscrew, and quite mean in his ways. And--there's Kate, 'squire, looking from the window. Now, ain't she asweet creature? Come, 'light--you shall see her close. Make yourselfquite at home, as I do. I make free, for you see the old people have allalong looked upon me as a son, seeing that I am to be one at some timeor other. "

They were now at the entrance of as smiling a cottage as the lover ofromance might well desire to look upon. Everything had a cheery, sunshiny aspect, looking life, comfort, and the "all in all content;"and, with a feeling of pleasure kindled anew in his bosom by theprospect, Ralph complied readily with the frank and somewhat informalinvitation of his companion, and was soon made perfectly at home by thefreedom and ease which characterized the manners of the young girl whodescended to receive them. A slight suffusion of the cheek and adowncast eye, upon the entrance of her lover, indicated a gratifiedconsciousness on the part of the maiden which did not look amiss. Shewas seemingly a gentle, playful creature, extremely young, apparentlywithout a thought of guile, and altogether untouched with a solitarypresentiment of the unhappy fortunes in store for her. 

Her mother, having made her appearance, soon employed the youth inoccasional discourse, which furnished sufficient opportunity to thebetrothed to pursue their own conversation, in a quiet corner of thesame room, in that under-tone which, where lovers are concerned, is ofall others the most delightful and emphatic. True love is always timid:he, too, as well as fear, is apt to "shrink back at the sound himselfhas made. " His words are few and the tones feeble. He throws histhoughts into his eyes, and they speak enough for all his purposes. Onthe present occasion, however, he was dumb from other influences, andthe hesitating voice, the guilty look, the unquiet manner, sufficientlyspoke, on the part of her lover, what his own tongue refused to whisperin the ears of the maiden. He strove, but vainly, to relate themelancholy event to which we have already sufficiently alluded. Hiswords were broken and confused, but she gathered enough, in part, tocomprehend the affair, though still ignorant of the precise actors andsufferers. 

The heart of Katharine was one of deep-seated tenderness, and it may notbe easy to describe the shock which the intelligence gave her. She didnot hear him through without ejaculations of horror, sufficientlyfervent and loud to provoke the glance of her mother, who did not, however, though turning her looks frequently upon the two, venture uponany inquiry, or offer any remark. The girl heard her lover patiently;but when he narrated the catastrophe, and told of the murder of theguard, she no longer struggled to restrain the feeling, now too strongfor suppression. Her words broke through her lips quickly, as sheexclaimed--

"But you, Mark--you had no part in this matter--you lent no aid--yougave no hand. You interfered, I am sure you did, to prevent the murderof the innocent men. Speak out, Mark, and tell me the truth, and relieveme from these horrible apprehensions. "

As she spoke, her small hand rested upon his wrist with a passionateenergy, in full accordance with the spirit of her language. The head ofthe unhappy man sank upon his breast; his eyes, dewily suffused, werecast upon the floor, and he spoke nothing, or inarticulately, in reply. 

"What means this silence--what am I to believe--what am I to think, MarkForrester? You can not have given aid to those bad men, whom youyourself despise. You have not so far forgotten yourself and me as to goon with that wicked man Rivers, following his direction, to take awaylife--to spill blood as if it were water! You have not done this, Mark. Tell me at once that I am foolish to fear it for an instant--that it isnot so. "

He strove, but in vain, to reply. The inarticulate sounds came forthchokingly from his lips without force or meaning. He strode impatientlyup and down the apartment, followed by the young and excited maiden, whounconsciously pursued him with repeated inquiries; while her mother, awakened to the necessity of interference, vainly strove to find asolution of the mystery, and to quiet both of the parties. 

"Will you not speak to me, Mark? Can you not, will you not answer?"

The unhappy man shook his head, in a perplexed and irritated manner, indicating his inability to reply--but concluding with pointing hisfinger impatiently to Ralph, who stood up, a surprised and anxiousspectator of the scene. The maiden seemed to comprehend the intimation, and with an energy and boldness that would not well describe heraccustomed habit--with a hurried step, crossed the apartment to wherestood the youth. Her eye was quick and searching--her words broken, butwith an impetuous flow, indicating the anxiety which, while it accountedfor, sufficiently excused the abruptness of her address, she spoke:--

"Do, sir, say that he had no hand in it--that he is free from the stainof blood! Speak for him, sir, I pray you; tell me--he will not tellhimself!"

The old lady now sought to interpose, and to apologize for her daughter. 

"Why, Kate, Katharine--forgive her, sir; Kate--Katharine, my dear--youforget. You ask questions of the stranger without any consideration. "

But she spoke to an unconscious auditor; and Forrester, though stillalmost speechless, now interposed:--

"Let her ask, mother--let her ask--let her know it all. He can say whatI can not. He can tell all. Speak out, 'squire--speak out; don't fearfor me. It must come, and who can better tell of it than you, who knowit all?"

Thus urged, Ralph, in a few words, related the occurrence. Thoughcarefully avoiding the use of epithet or phrase which might color withan increased odium the connection and conduct of Forrester with theaffair, the offence admitted of so little apology or extenuation, thatthe delicacy with which the details were narrated availed but little inits mitigation; and an involuntary cry burst from mother and daughteralike, to which the hollow groan that came from the lips of Forresterfurnished a fitting echo. 

"And this is all true, Mark--must I believe all this?" was the inquiryof the young girl, after a brief interval. There was a desperateprecipitance in the reply of Forrester:--

"True--Katharine--true; every word of it is true. Do you not see itwritten in my face? Am I not choked--do not my knees tremble? and myhands--look for yourself--are they not covered with blood?"

The youth interposed, and for a moment doubted the sanity of hiscompanion. He had spoken in figure--a mode of speech, which it is amistake in rhetoricians to ascribe only to an artificial origin, duringa state of mental quiet. Deep passion and strong excitements, we arebold to say, employ metaphor largely; and, upon an inspection of thecriminal records of any country, it will be found that the most commonnarrations from persons deeply wrought upon by strong circumstances areabundantly stored with the evidence of what we assert. 

"And how came it, Mark?" was the inquiry of the maiden; "and why did youthis thing?"

"Ay, you may well ask, and wonder. I can not tell you. I was a fool--Iwas mad! I knew not what I did. From one thing I went on to another, andI knew nothing of what had been done until all was done. Some devil wasat my elbow--some devil at my heart. I feel it there still; I am not yetfree. I could do more--I could go yet farther. I could finish the damnedwork by another crime; and no crime either, since I should be the onlyvictim, and well deserving a worse punishment. "

The offender was deeply excited, and felt poignantly. For some time ittasked all the powers of Ralph's mind, and the seductive blandishmentsof the maiden herself, to allay the fever of his spirit; when, atlength, he was something restored, the dialogue was renewed by aninquiry of the old lady as to the future destination of her anticipatedson-in-law, for whom, indeed, she entertained a genuine affection. 

"And what is to be the end of all this, Mark? What is it your purpose todo--where will you fly?"

"To the nation, mother--where else? I must fly somewhere--give myself upto justice, or--" and he paused in the sentence so unpromisingly begun, while his eyes rolled with unaccustomed terrors, and his voice grewthick in his throat. 

"Or what--what mean you by that word, that look, Mark? I do notunderstand you; why speak you in this way, and to me?" exclaimed themaiden, passionately interrupting him in a speech, which, thoughstrictly the creature of his morbid spirit and present excitement, wasperhaps unnecessarily and something too wantonly indulged in. 

"Forgive me, Katharine--dear Katharine--but you little know the madnessand the misery at my heart. "

"And have you no thought of mine, Mark? this deed of yours has broughtmisery, if not madness, to it too; and speech like this might well bespared us now!"

"It is this very thought, Kate, that I have made you miserable, when Ishould have striven only to make you happy. The thought, too, that Imust leave you, to see you perhaps never again--these unman--thesemadden me, Katharine; and I feel desperate like the man striving withhis brother upon the plank in the broad ocean. "

"And why part, Mark? I see not this necessity!"

"Would you have me stay and perish? would you behold me, dragged perhapsfrom your own arms before the stern judge, and to a dreadful death? Itwill be so if I stay much longer. The state will not suffer this thingto pass over. The crime is too large--too fearful. Besides this, thePony Club have lately committed several desperate offences, which havealready attracted the notice of the legislature. This very guard hadbeen ordered to disperse them; and this affair will bring down asufficient force to overrun all our settlements, and they may evenpenetrate the nation itself, where we might otherwise find shelter. There will be no safety for me. "

The despondence of the woodman increased as he spoke; and the younggirl, as if unconscious of all spectators, in the confiding innocence ofher heart, exclaimed, while her head sunk up in his shoulder:--

"And why, Mark, may we not all fly together? There will be no reason nowto remain here, since the miners are all to be dispersed. "

"Well said, Kate--well said--" responded a voice at the entrance of theapartment, at the sound of which the person addressed started with avisible trepidation, which destroyed all her previous energy of manner;"it is well thought on Kate; there will, sure enough, be very littlereason now for any of us to remain, since this ugly business; and theonly question is as to what quarter we shall go. There is, however justas little reason for our flight in company with Mark Forrester. "

It was the father of the maiden who spoke--one who was the arbiter ofher destinies, and so much the dictator in his household and over hisfamily, that from his decision and authority there was suffered noappeal. Without pausing for a reply, he proceeded:--

"Our course, Mark must now lie separate. You will take your route, and Imine; we can not take them together. As for my daughter, she can nottake up with you, seeing your present condition. Your affairs are not asthey were when I consented to your engagement; therefore, the least saidand thought about past matters, the better. "

"But--" was the beginning of a reply from the sad and discarded lover, in which he was not suffered to proceed. The old man was firm, andsettled further controversy in short order. 

"No talk, Mark--seeing that it's no use, and there's no occasion for it. It must be as I say. I cannot permit of Kate's connection with a man inyour situation, who the very next moment may be brought to the halterand bring shame upon her. Take your parting, and try to forget oldtimes, my good fellow. I think well of, and am sorry for you, Mark, butI can do nothing. The girl is my only child, and I must keep her fromharm if I can. "

Mark battled the point with considerable warmth and vigor, and the scenewas something further protracted, but need not here be prolonged. Thefather was obdurate, and too much dreaded by the members of his familyto admit of much prayer or pleading on their part. Apart from this, hisreason, though a stern, was a wise and strong one. The intercession ofColleton, warmly made, proved equally unavailing; and after a brief butpainful parting with the maiden, Forrester remounted his horse, and, incompany with the youth, departed for the village. But the adieus of thelovers, in this instance, were not destined to be the last. In thenarrow passage, in which, removed from all sight and scrutiny, she hungdroopingly, like a storm-beaten flower, upon his bosom, he solicited, and not unsuccessfully, a private and a parting interview. 

"To-night, then, at the old sycamore, as the moon rises, " he whisperedin her ear, as sadly and silently she withdrew from his embrace. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

PARTING AND FLIGHT. 

With Ralph, the unhappy woodman, thus even denied to hope, returned, more miserable than before, to the village of Chestatee. The crowd therehad been largely diminished. The more obnoxious among theoffenders--those who, having taken the most prominent part in the lateaffair, apprehended the severest treatment--had taken themselves as muchout of sight as possible. Even Munro and Rivers, with all theirhardihood, were no longer to be seen, and those still lingering in thevillage were such as under no circumstances might well provoke suspicionof "subtle deed and counter enterprise. " They were the fat men, the beefof society--loving long speeches and goodly cheer. The two friends, forso we may call them, were left almost in the exclusive possession of thehotel, and without observation discussed their several plans ofdeparture. Forrester had determined to commence his journey that verynight; while Ralph, with what might seem headstrong rashness, chose theensuing day for a like purpose. 

But the youth was not without his reasons for this determination. Heknew perfectly well that he was in peril, but felt also that this perilwould be met with much more difficulty by night than by day. Deeminghimself secure, comparatively speaking, while actually in the village, he felt that it would be safer to remain there another night, than bysetting off at mid-day, encounter the unavoidable risk of eitherpursuing his course through the night in that dangerous neighborhood, where every step which he took might be watched, or be compelled to stopat some more insulated position, in which there must be far less safety. He concluded, therefore, to set off at early dawn on the ensuingmorning, and calculated, with the advantage of daylight all the way, through brisk riding, to put himself by evening beyond the reach of hisenemies. That he was not altogether permitted to pursue this course, wascertainly not through any neglect of preparatory arrangement. 

The public table at the inn on that day was thinly attended; and therepast was partaken by all parties in comparative silence. A few wordswere addressed by Colleton to Lucy Munro, but they were answered, notcoldly, but sparingly, and her replies were entirely wanting in theirusual spirit. Still, her looks signified for him the deepest interest, and a significant motion of the finger, which might have been held toconvey a warning, was all that he noted of that earnest manner which hadgratified his self-esteem in her habit heretofore. The day was gotthrough with difficulty by all parties; and as evening approached, Forrester, having effected all his arrangements without provokingobservation, in the quiet and privacy of the youth's chamber, bade himfarewell, cautioning him at the same time against all voluntary risk, and reminding him of the necessity, while in that neighborhood, ofkeeping a good lookout. Their courses lay not so far asunder but thatthey might, for a time, have proceeded together, and with more mutualadvantage; but the suggestions and solicitations of Forrester on thissubject were alike disregarded by Ralph, with what reason we may notpositively say, but it is possible that it arose from a prudentialreference to the fact that the association of one flying from justicewas not exactly such as the innocent should desire. And this was reasonenough. 

They separated; and the youth proceeded to the preparation for his owncontemplated departure. His pistols were in readiness, with his dirk, onthe small table by the side of his bed; his portmanteau lay alikecontiguous; and before seeking his couch, which he did at an early hour, he himself had seen that his good steed had been well provided with cornand fodder. The sable groom, too, whose attentions to the noble animalfrom the first, stimulated by an occasional bit of silver, had beenunremitted, was now further rewarded, and promised faithfully to be inreadiness at any hour. Thus, all things arranged, Ralph returned to hischamber, and without removing his dress, wrapping his cloak around him, he threw himself upon his couch, and addressed himself to those slumberswhich were destined to be of no very long continuance. 

Forrester, in the meanwhile, had proceeded with all the impatience of alover to the designated place of _tryst_, under the giant sycamore, thesheltering limbs and leaves of which, on sundry previous occasions, hadministered to a like purpose. The place was not remote, or at leastwould not be so considered in country estimation, from the dwelling ofthe maiden; and was to be reached from the latter spot by a circuitouspassage through a thick wood, which covered the distance betweenentirely. The spot chosen for the meeting was well known to bothparties, and we shall not pretend, at this time of day, to limit theknowledge of its sweet fitness for the purposes of love, to them alone. They had tasted of its sweets a thousand times, and could wellunderstand and appreciate that air of romantic and fairy-like seclusionwhich so much distinguished it, and which served admirably in concertwith the uses to which it was now appropriated. The tree grew within andsurmounted a little hollow, formed by the even and combined naturaldescents, to that common centre, of four hills, beautifully grouped, which surrounded and completely fenced it in. Their descents were smoothand even, without a single abruptness, to the bottom, in the centre ofwhich rose the sycamore, which, from its own situation, conferred thename of Sycamore Hollow on the sweet spot upon which it stood. A spring, trickling from beneath its roots, shaded by its folding branches fromthe thirsty heats of the summer sun, kept up a low and continuousprattle with the pebbles over which it made its way, that consortedsweetly with the secluded harmonies that overmantled, as with a mightywing, the sheltered place. 

Scenes like these are abundant enough in the southern country; and bytheir quiet, unobtrusive, and softer beauties, would seem, and notinefficiently or feebly, to supply in most respects the wants of thosebolder characteristics, in which nature in those regions is confessedlydeficient. Whatever may be the want of southern scenery instupendousness or sublimity, it is, we are inclined to believe, morethan made up in those thousand quiet and wooing charms of location, which seem designed expressly for the hamlet and the cottage--theevening dance--the mid-day repose and rural banquet--and all thosenumberless practices of a small and well-intentioned society, which winthe affections into limpid and living currents, touched for ever, hereand there, by the sunshine, and sheltered in their repose by overhangingleaves and flowers, for ever fertile and for ever fresh. They may notoccasion a feeling of solemn awe, but they enkindle one of admiringaffection; and where the mountain and the bald rock would be productiveof emotions only of strength and sternness, their softer featurings ofbrawling brook, bending and variegated shrubbery, wild flower, gaddingvine, and undulating hillock, mould the contemplative spirit intogentleness and love. The scenery of the South below the mountainregions, seldom impresses at first, but it grows upon acquaintance; andin a little while, where once all things looked monotonous andunattractive, we learn to discover sweet influences that ravish us fromourselves at every step we take, into worlds and wilds, where all isfairy-like, wooing, and unchangingly sweet. 

The night, though yet without a moon, was beautifully clear andcloudless. The stars had come out with all their brightness--a softzephyr played drowsily and fitfully among the tops of the shrubbery, that lay, as it were, asleep on the circling hilltops around; while theodors of complicated charm from a thousand floral knots, which hadcaught blooms from the rainbows, and dyed themselves in their stolonsplendors, thickly studding the wild and matted grass which sustainedthem, brought along with them even a stronger influence than the rest ofthe scene, and might have taught a ready lesson of love to much sternerspirits than the two, now so unhappy, who were there to take theirparting in a last embrace. 

The swift motion of a galloping steed was heard, and Forrester was atthe place and hour of appointment. In mournful mood, he threw himself atthe foot of one of the hills, upon one of the tufted roots of the hugetree which sheltered the little hollow, and resigned himself to asomewhat bitter survey of his own condition, and of the privations andprobable straits into which his rash thoughtlessness had so unhappilyinvolved him. His horse, docile and well-trained, stood unfastened inthe thicket, cropping the young and tender herbage at some littledistance; but so habituated to rule that no other security than his ownwill was considered by his master necessary for his continued presence. The lover waited not long. Descending the hill, through a narrow pathwayone side of the wood, well known and frequently trodden by both, hebeheld the approach of the maiden, and hurried forward to receive her. 

The terms upon which they had so long stood forbade constraint, and putat defiance all those formalities which, under other circumstances, might have grown out of the meeting. She advanced without hesitancy, andthe hand of her lover grasped that which she extended, his arm passedabout her, his lip was fastened to her own without hinderance, and, inthat one sweet embrace, in that one moment of blissful forgetfulness, all other of life's circumstances had ceased to afflict. 

But they were not happy even at that moment of delight and illusion. Thegentler spirit of the maiden's sex was uppermost, and the sad story ofhis crime, which at their last meeting had been told her, lay with heavyinfluence at her heart. She was a gentle creature, and though dwellingin a wilderness, such is the prevailing influence upon female character, of the kind of education acquirable in the southern, --or, we may add, and thus perhaps furnish the reason for any peculiarity in this respect, the slave-holding states--that she partook in a large degree of thatexcessive delicacy, as well of spirit as of person, which, while amarked characteristic of that entire region, is apt to become of itselfa disease, exhibiting itself too frequently in a nervousness andtimidity that unfit its owner for the ruder necessities of life, andpermit it to abide only under its more serene and summer aspects. Thetale of blood, and its awful consequences, were perpetually recurring toher imagination. Her fancy described and dwelt upon its details, herthoughts wove it into a thousand startling tissues, until, thoughbelieving his crime unpremeditated, she almost shrank from the embraceof her lover, because of the blood so recently upon his hands. Placingher beside him upon the seat he had occupied, he tenderly rebuked hergloomy manner, while an inward and painful consciousness of its causegave to his voice a hesitating tremor, and his eye, heretoforeunquailing at any glance, no longer bold, now shrank downcast before thetearful emphasis of hers. 

"You have come, Kate--come, according to your promise, yet you wear notloving looks. Your eye is vacant--your heart, it beats sadly andhurriedly beneath my hand, as if there were gloomy and vexatiousthoughts within. "

"And should I not be sad, Mark, and should you not be sad? Gloom andsorrow befit our situations alike; though for you I feel more than formyself. I think not so much of our parting, as of your misfortune inhaving partaken of this crime. There is to me but little occasion forgrief in the temporary separation which I am sure will precede our finalunion. But this dreadful deed, Mark--it is this that makes me sad. Theknowledge that you, whom I thought too gentle wantonly to crush thecrawling insect, should have become the slayer of men--of innocent men, too--makes my heart bleed within, and my eyes fill; and when I think ofit, as indeed I now think of little else, and feel that its remorse andall its consequences must haunt you for many years, I almost think, withmy father, that it would be better we should see each other no more. Ithink I could see you depart, knowing that it was for ever, without atear, were this sin not upon your head. "

"Your words are cruel, Kate; but you can not speak to my spirit inlanguage more severe than it speaks momentarily to itself. I never knewanything of punishment before; and the first lesson is a bitter one. Your words touch me but little now, as the tree, when the axe has oncegirdled it, has no feeling for any further stroke. Forbear then, dearKate, as you love yourself. Brood not upon a subject that brings painwith it to your own spirit, and has almost ceased, except in itsconsequences, to operate upon mine. Let us now speak of those thingswhich concern you nearly, and me not a little--of the only thing, which, besides this deed of death, troubles my thought at this moment. Let usspeak of our future hope--if hope there may be for me, after the sternsentence which your lips uttered in part even now. "

"It was for you--for your safety, believe me, Mark, that I spoke; my ownheart was wrung with the language of my lips--the language of my coolerthought. I spoke only for your safety and not for myself. Could--I againrepeat--could this deed be undone--could you be free from the reproachand the punishment, I would be content, though the strings of my heartcracked with its own doom, to forego all claim upon you--to give youup--to give up my own hope of happiness for ever. "

Her words were passionate, and at their close her head sunk upon hisshoulder, while her tears gushed forth without restraint, and indefiance of all her efforts. The heart of the woodman was deeply andpainfully affected, and the words refused to leave his lips, while akindred anguish shook his manly frame, and rendered it almost adifficulty with him to sustain the slight fabric of hers. With a sterneffort, however, he recovered himself, and reseating her upon the bankfrom which, in the agitation of the moment, they had both arisen, heendeavored to soothe her spirit, by unfolding his plan of future life. 

"My present aim is the nation--I shall cross the Chestatee riverto-morrow, and shall push at once for the forest of Etowee, and beyondthe Etowee river. I know the place well, and have been through itbefore. There I shall linger until I hear all the particulars of thisaffair in its progress, and determine upon my route accordingly. If thestir is great, as I reckon it will be, I shall push into Tennessee, andperhaps go for the Mississippi. Could I hope that your father wouldconsent to remove, I should at once do this and make a settlement, where, secure from interruption and all together, we might live happilyand honorably for the future. "

"And why not do so now--why stop at all among the Cherokees? Why not goat once into Mississippi, and begin the world, as you propose in the endto do?"

"What! and leave you for ever--now Kate, you are indeed cruel. I had notthought to have listened to such a recommendation from one who loved meas you profess. "

"As I do, Mark--I say nothing which I do not feel. It does not followthat you will be any nigher your object, if my father continue firm inhis refusal, though nigher to me, by lingering about in the nation. Onthe contrary, will he not, hearing of you in the neighborhood, be moreclose in his restraints upon me? Will not your chance of exposure, too, be so much the greater, as to make it incumbent upon him to pursue hisdetermination with rigor? while, on the other hand, if you removeyourself out of all reach of Georgia, in the Mississippi, and therebegin a settlement, I am sure that he will look upon the affair withdifferent notions. "

"It can not be, Kate--it can not be. You know I have had but a singlemotive for living so long among this people and in these parts. Idisliked both, and only lingered with a single hope, that I might beblessed with your presence always, and in the event of my sufficientsuccess, that I might win you altogether for myself. I have not donemuch for this object and this unhappy affair forbids me for the presentto do more. Is not this enough, Katharine, and must I bury myself fromyou a thousand miles in the forest, ignorant of what may be going on, and without any hope, such as I have lived for before? Is the labor Ihave undergone--the life I have led--to have no fruits? Will you too bethe first to recommend forgetfulness; to overthrow my chance ofhappiness? No--it must not be. Hear me, Kate--hear me, and say I havenot worked altogether in vain. I have acquired some little by my toils, and can acquire more. There is one thing now, one blessing which you mayafford, and the possession of which will enable me to go with a lightheart and a strong hand into any forests, winning comforts for both ofus--happiness, if the world have it--and nothing to make us afraid. "

He spoke with deep energy, and she looked inquiringly into his face. Theexpression was satisfactory, and she replied without hesitation:--

"I understand you, Mark Forrester--I understand you, but it must not be. I must regard and live for affections besides my own. Would you have mefly for ever from those who have been all to me--from those to whom I amall--from my father--from my dear, my old mother! Fy, Mark. "

"And are you not all to me, Katharine--the one thing for which I wouldlive, and wanting which I care not to live? Ay, Katharine, fly with mefrom all--and yet not for ever. They will follow you, and our end willthen be answered. Unless you do this, they would linger on in this placewithout an object, even if permitted, which is very doubtful, to holdtheir ground--enjoying life as a vegetable, and dead before life itselfis extinct. "

"Spare your speech, Mark--on this point you urge me in vain, " was thefirm response of the maiden. "Though I feel for you as as I feel fornone other, I also feel that I have other ties and other obligations, all inconsistent with the step which you would have me take. I will nothave you speak of it further--on this particular I am immoveable. "

A shade of mortification clouded the face of Forrester as she utteredthese words, and for a moment he was silent. Resuming, at length, withsomething of resignation in his manner, he continued--

"Well, Kate, since you will have it so, I forbear; though, what courseis left for you, and what hope for me, if your father continues in hispresent humor, I am at a loss to see. There is one thing, however--thereis one pledge that I would exact from you before we part. "

He took her hand tenderly as he spoke, and his eyes, glistening withtearful expectation, were fixed upon her own; but she did notimmediately reply. She seemed rather to await the naming of the pledgeof which he spoke. There was a struggle going on between her mind andher affections; and though, in the end, the latter seemed to obtain themastery, the sense of propriety, the moral guardianship of her ownspirit battled sternly and fearlessly against their suggestions. Shewould make no promise which might, by any possibility, bind her to anengagement inconsistent with other and primary obligations. 

"I know not, Mark, what may be the pledge which you would have from me, to which I could consent with propriety. When I hear your desires, plainly expressed to my understanding, I shall better know how to reply. You heard the language of my father: I must obey his wishes as far as Iknow them. Though sometimes rough, and irregular in his habits, to me hehas been at all times tender and kind: I would not now disobey hiscommands. Still, in this matter, my heart inclines too much in yourfavor not to make me less scrupulous than I should otherwise desire tobe. Besides, I have so long held myself yours, and with his sanction, that I can the more easily listen to your entreaties. If, then you trulylove me, you will, I am sure, ask nothing that I should not grant. Speak--what is the pledge?"

"It shall come with no risk, Kate, believe me, none. Heaven forbid thatI should bring a solitary grief to your bosom; yet it may adventure insome respects both mind and person, if you be not wary. Knowing yourfather, as you know him too, I would have from you a pledge--a promise, here, solemnly uttered in the eye of Heaven, and in the holy stillnessof this place, which has witnessed other of our vows no less sacred andsolemn, that, should he sanction the prayer of another who seeks yourlove, and command your obedience, that you will not obey--that you willnot go quietly a victim to the altar--that you will not pledge toanother the same vow which has been long since pledged to me. "

He paused a moment for a reply, but she spoke not; and with somethinglike impetuosity he proceeded:--

"You make no reply, Katharine? You hear my entreaty--my prayer. Itinvolves no impropriety; it stands in the way of no other duty, since, Itrust, the relationship between us is as binding as any other which maycall for your regard. All that I ask is, that you will not dispose ofyourself to another, your heart not going with your hand, whatever maybe the authority which may require it; at least, not until you are fullyassured that it is beyond my power to claim you, or I become unworthy topress the claim. "

"It is strange, Mark, that you should speak in a manner of which thereis so little need. The pledge long since uttered as solemnly as you nowrequire, under these very boughs, should satisfy you. "

"So it should, Kate--and so it would, perhaps, could I now reason on anysubject. But my doubts are not now of your love, but of your firmness inresisting a control at variance with your duty to yourself. Your wordsreassure me, however; and now, though with no glad heart, I shall passover the border, and hope for the better days which are to make ushappy. "

"Not so fast, Master Forrester, " exclaimed the voice of old Allen, emerging from the cover of the sycamore, to the shelter of which he hadadvanced unobserved, and had been the unsuspected auditor of thedialogue from first to last. The couple, with an awkward consciousness, started up at the speech, taken by surprise, and neither uttering a wordin reply to this sudden address. 

"You must first answer, young man, to the charge of advising my daughterto disobedience, as I have heard you for the last half hour; and toelopement, which she had the good sense to refuse. I thought, MasterForrester, that you were better bred than to be guilty of suchoffences. "

"I know them not as such, Mr. Allen. I had your own sanction to myengagement with Katharine, and do not see that after that you had anyright to break it off. "

"You do not--eh? Well, perhaps, you are right, and I have thought betterof the matter myself; and, between us, Kate has behaved so well, andspoken so prettily to you, and obeyed my orders, as she should havedone, that I'm thinking to look more kindly on the whole affair. "

"Are you, dear father?--Oh, I am so happy!"

"Hush, minx! the business is mine, and none of yours. --Hark you, Mark. You must fly--there's no two ways about that; and, between us, therewill be a devil of a stir in this matter. I have it from good authoritythat the governor will riddle the whole nation but he'll have every man, woman, and child, concerned in this difficulty: so that'll be no placefor you. You must go right on to the _Massassippi_, and enter landsenough for us all. Enter them in Kate's name, and they'll be secure. Assoon as you've fixed that business, write on, say where you are, andwe'll be down upon you, bag and baggage, in no time and less. "

"Oh, dear father--this is so good of you!"

"Pshaw, get away, minx! I don't like kisses _jest_ after supper; ittakes the taste all out of my mouth of what I've been eating. "

Forrester was loud in his acknowledgments, and sought by eulogisticprofessions to do away the ill effect of all that he might have utteredin the previous conversation; but the old man cut him short with hiswonted querulousness:--

"Oh, done with your blarney, boy! 'It's all my eye and Betty Martin!'Won't you go in and take supper? There's something left, I reckon. "

But Forrester had now no idea of eating, and declined accordingly, alleging his determination to set off immediately upon his route--adetermination which the old man highly approved of. 

"You are right, Mark--move's the word, and the sooner you go about itthe better. Here's my hand on your bargain, and good-by--I reckon you'llhave something more to say to Kate, and I suppose you don't want me tohelp you in saying it--so I leave you. She's used to the way; and, ifshe's at all afraid, you can easily see her home. "

With a few more words the old man took his departure, leaving the youngpeople as happy now as he had before found them sad and sorrowful. Theydid not doubt that the reason of this change was as he alleged it, andgave themselves no thought as to causes, satisfied as they were witheffects. But old Allen had not proceeded without his host: he had beenadvised of the contemplated turn-out of all the squatters from thegold-region; and, having no better tenure than any of his neighbors, hevery prudently made a merit of necessity, and took his measures as wehave seen. The lovers were satisfied, and their interview now wore, though at parting, a more sunshiny complexion. 

But why prolong a scene admitting of so little variety as that whichdescribes the sweets, and the strifes, and the sorrows, of mortal love?We take it there is no reader of novels so little conversant withmatters of this nature as not to know how they begin and how they end;and, contenting ourselves with separating the parties--an acthardhearted enough, in all conscience--we shall not with idle andquestionable sympathy dwell upon the sorrows of their separation. We mayutter a remark, however, which the particular instance before usoccasions, in relation to the singular influence of love upon the mentaland moral character of the man. There is no influence in the world'scircumstance so truly purifying, elevating, and refining. It instilshigh and generous sentiments; it ennobles human endeavor; it sanctifiesdefeat and denial; it polishes manners; it gives to morals a tincture ofdevotion; and, as with the spell of magic, such as Milton describes in"Comus, " it dissipates with a glance the wild rout of low desires andinsane follies which so much blur and blot up the otherwise fair face ofhuman society. It permits of no meanness in its train; it expelsvulgarity, and, with a high stretch toward perfected humanity, itunearths the grovelling nature, and gives it aspirations of sand andsunshine. 

Its effect upon Forrester had been of this description. It had been hisonly tutor, and had taught him nobly in numberless respects. In everyassociation with the maiden of his affections, his tone, his language, his temper, and his thoughts, seemed to undergo improvement andpurification. He seemed quite another man whenever he came into herpresence, and whenever the thought of her was in his heart. Indeed, suchwas the effect of this passion upon both of them; though this may havebeen partially the result of other circumstances, arising from theirparticular situation. For a long time they had known few enjoyments thatwere not intimately connected with the image of one another; and thus, from having few objects besides of contemplation or concern, theyrefined upon each other. As the minute survey in the forest of thesingle leaf, which, for years, may not have attracted the eye, unfoldsthe fine veins, the fanciful outline, the clear, green, and transparenttexture, and the delicate shadowings of innumerable hues won from theskies and the sunshine--so, day by day, surveying the single object, they had become familiar with attractions in one another which thepassing world would never have supposed either of them to possess. Insuch a region, where there are few competitors for human love andregard, the heart clings with hungering tenacity to the few strayaffections that spring up, here and there, like flowers dropped by somekindly, careless hand, making a bloom and a blessing for the untroddenwilderness. Nor do they blossom there in vain, since, as the sage hastold us, there is no breeze that wafts not life, no sun that brings notsmiles, no water that bears not refreshment, no flower that has notcharms and a solace, for some heart that could not well hope to be happywithout them. 

They separated on the verge of the copse to which he had attended her, their hands having all the way been passionately linked, and a sealhaving been set upon their mutual vows by the long, loving embrace whichconcluded their interview. The cottage was in sight, and, from the deepshade which surrounded him, he beheld her enter its precincts in safety;then, returning to the place of tryst, he led forth his steed, and, witha single bound, was once more in his saddle, and once more a wanderer. The cheerlessness of such a fate as that before him, even under thechanged aspect of his affairs, to those unaccustomed to the rather toomigratory habits of our southern and western people, would seem somewhatsevere; but the only hardship in his present fortune, to the mind ofForrester, was the privation and protraction of his love-arrangements. The wild, woodland adventure common to the habits of the people of thisclass, had a stimulating effect upon his spirit at all other times; and, even now--though perfectly legitimate for a lover to move slowly fromhis mistress--the moon just rising above the trees, and his horse infull gallop through their winding intricacies, a warm and bracing energycame to his aid, and his heart grew cheery under its inspiritinginfluences. He was full of the future, rich in anticipation, and happyin the contemplation of a thousand projects. With a free rein he plungedforward into the recesses of the forest, dreaming of a cottage in theMississippi, a heart at ease, and Katharine Allen, with all herbeauties, for ever at hand to keep it so. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

MIDNIGHT SURPRISE. 

The night began to wane, and still did Lucy Munro keep lonely vigil inher chamber. How could she sleep? Threatened with a connection sodreadful as to her mind was that proposed with Guy Rivers--deeplyinterested as she now felt herself in the fortunes of the youngstranger, for whose fate and safety, knowing the unfavorable position inwhich he stood with the outlaws, she had everything to apprehend--it cancause no wonder when we say sleep grew a stranger to her eyes, andwithout retiring to her couch, though extinguishing her light, she satmusing by the window of her chamber upon the thousand conflicting andsad thoughts that were at strife in her spirit. She had not been long inthis position when the sound of approaching horsemen reached her ears, and after a brief interval, during which she could perceive that theyhad alighted, she heard the door of the hall gently unclosed, andfootsteps, set down with nice caution, moving through the passage. Alight danced for a moment fitfully along the chamber, as if borne fromthe sleeping apartment of Munro to that adjoining the hall in which thefamily were accustomed to pursue their domestic avocations. Then came anoccasional murmur of speech to her ears, and then silence. 

Perplexed with these circumstances, and wondering at the return of Munroat an hour something unusual--prompted too by a presentiment ofsomething wrong, and apprehensive on the score of Ralph's safety--acuriosity not, surely, under these circumstances, discreditable, to knowwhat was going on, determined her to ascertain something more of thecharacter of the nocturnal visitation. She felt secured from thestrangeness of the occurrence, that evil was afoot, and solicitous forits prevention, she was persuaded to the measure solely with the view togood. 

Hastily, but with trembling hands, undoing the door of her apartment, she made her way into the long, dark gallery, with which she wasperfectly familiar, and soon gained the apartment already referred to. The door fortunately stood nearly closed, and she successfully passed itby and gained the hall, which immediately adjoined, and lay in perfectdarkness. Without herself being seen, she was enabled, through a crevicein the partition dividing the two rooms, to survey its inmates, and tohear distinctly everything that was uttered. 

As she expected, there were the two conspirators, Rivers and Munro, earnestly engaged in discourse; to which, as it concerns materially ourprogress, we may well be permitted to lend our attention. They spoke ona variety of topics entirely foreign to the understanding of thehalf-affrighted and nervously-susceptible, but still resolute young girlwho heard them; and nothing but her deep anxieties for one, whose ownimportance in her eyes at that moment she did not conjecture, could havesustained her while listening to a dialogue full of atrocious intention, and larded throughout with a familiar and sometimes foul phraseologythat certainly was not altogether unseemly in such association. 

"Well, Blundell's gone too, they say. He's heartily frightened. A fewmore will follow, and we must both be out of the way. The rest could notwell be identified, and whether they are or not does not concern us, except that they may blab of their confederates. Such as seem likely tosuffer detection must be frightened off; and this, by the way, is not sodifficult a matter. Pippin knows nothing of himself. Forrester is toomuch involved to be forward. It was for this that I aroused and set himon. His hot blood took fire at some little hints that I threw out, andthe fool became a leader in the mischief. There's no danger from him;besides, they say, he's off too. Old Allen has broken off the matchbetween him and his daughter, and the fellow's almost mad on thestrength of it. There's but one left who might trouble us, and it is nowunderstood that but one mode offers for his silence. We are perfectlyagreed as to this, and no more scruples. "

The quick sense of the maiden readily taught her who was meant; and herheart trembled convulsively within her, as, with a word, Munro, replyingto Rivers, gave his assent. 

"Why, yes--it must be done, I suppose, though somehow or other I wouldit could be got rid of in any other way. "

"You see for yourself, Wat, there can be no other way; for as long as helives, there is no security. The few surviving guard will be seen to, and they saw too little to be dangerous. They were like stunned andstupified men. This boy alone was cool and collected, and is soobstinate in what he knows and thinks, that he troubles neither himselfnor his neighbors with doubt or difficulty. I knew him a few years ago, when something more of a boy than now; and even then he was the samecharacter. "

"But why not let him start, and take the woods for it? How easy tosettle the matter on the roadside, in a thousand different ways. Theaccumulation of these occurrences in the village, as much as anythingelse, will break us up. I don't care for myself, for I expect to be offfor a time; but I want to see the old woman and Lucy keep quietpossession here--"

"You are becoming an old woman yourself, Wat, and should be underguardianship. All these scruples are late; and, indeed, even were theynot, they would be still useless. We have determined on the thing, andthe sooner we set about it the better. The night wanes, and I have muchto see to before daylight. To-morrow I must sleep--sleep--" and for amoment Rivers seemed to muse upon the word sleep, which he thricerepeated; then suddenly proceeding, as if no pause had taken place, heabruptly placed his hand upon the shoulder of Munro, and asked--

"You will bear the lantern; this is all you need perform. I am resolutefor the rest. "

"What will you use--dirk?"

"Yes--it is silent in its office, and not less sure. Are all asleep, think you--your wife?"

"Quite so--sound when I entered the chamber. "

"Well, the sooner to business the better. Is there water in thatpitcher? I am strangely thirsty to-night; brandy were not amiss at sucha time. "

And speaking this to himself, as it were, Rivers approached theside-table, where stood the commodities he sought. In this approach themaiden had a more perfect view of the malignities of his savage face;and as he left the table, and again commenced a brief conversation in anunder-tone with Munro, no longer doubting the dreadful object which theyhad in view, she seized the opportunity with as much speed as wasconsistent with caution and her trembling nerves, to leave the place ofespionage, and seek her chamber. 

But to what purpose had she heard all this, if she suffered the fearfuldeed to proceed to execution? The thought was momentary, but carried toher heart, in that moment, the fullest conviction of her duty. 

She rushed hurriedly again into the passage--and, though apprehendingmomentarily that her knees would sink from under her, took her way upthe narrow flight of steps leading into the second story, and to theyouth's chamber. As she reached the door, a feminine scruple came overher. A young girl seeking the apartment of a man at midnight--she shrunkback with a new feeling. But the dread necessity drove her on, and withcautious hand undoing the latch securing the door by thrusting her handthrough an interstice between the logs--wondering at the same time atthe incautious manner in which, at such a period and place, the youthhad provided for his sleeping hours--she stood tremblingly within thechamber. 

Wrapped in unconscious slumbers, Ralph Colleton lay dreaming upon hisrude couch of a thousand strange influences and associations. His rovingfancies had gone to and fro, between his uncle and his bewitchingcousin, until his heart grew softened and satisfied, not less with thenative pleasures which they revived in his memory, than of the sweetoblivion which they brought of the many painful and perilous prospectswith which he had more recently become familiar. He had no thought ofthe present, and the pictures of the past were all rich and ravishing. To his wandering sense at that moment there came a sweet vision ofbeauty and love--of an affection warmly cherished--green as the summerleaves--fresh as its flowers--flinging odors about his spirit, andre-awakening in its fullest extent the partially slumberingpassion--reviving many a hope, and provoking with many a deliciousanticipation. The form of the one, lovely beyond comparison, flittedbefore him, while her name, murmured with words of passion by his partedlips, carried with its utterance a sweet promise of a pure faith, and anunforgetting affection. Never once, since the hour of his departure fromhome, had he, in his waking moments, permitted that name to find a placeupon his lips, and now syllabled into sound by them in his unconsciousdreams, it fell with a stunning influence upon an auditor, whose heartgrew colder in due proportion with the unconscious but warm tendernessof epithet with which his tongue coupled its utterance. 

The now completely unhappy Lucy stood sad and statue-like. She heardenough to teach her the true character of her own feelings for one, whose articulated dreams had revealed the secret of his passion foranother; and almost forgetting for a while the office upon which she hadcome, she continued to give ear to those sounds which brought to herheart only additional misery. 

How long Ralph, in his mental wanderings, would have gone on, as we haveseen, incoherently developing his heart's history, may not be said. Gathering courage at last, with a noble energy, the maiden proceeded toher proposed duty, and his slumbers were broken. With a half-awakenedconsciousness he raised himself partially up in his couch, and sought tolisten. He was not deceived; a whispered sentence came to his ears, addressed to himself, and succeeded by a pause of several moments'continuance. Again his name was uttered. Half doubting his senses, hepassed his hand repeatedly over his eyes, and again listened for therepetition of that voice, the identity of which he had as yet failedutterly to distinguish. The sounds were repeated, and the words grewmore and more distinct. He now caught in part the tenor of the sentence, though imperfectly heard. It seemed to convey some warning of danger, and the person who spoke appeared, from the tremulous accents, to laborunder many apprehensions. The voice proceeded with increased emphasis, advising his instant departure from the house--speaking of namelessdangers--of murderous intrigue and conspiracy, and warning against eventhe delay of a single instant. 

The character of Ralph was finely marked, and firmness of purpose and aready decision were among its most prominent attributes. Hastily leapingfrom his couch, therefore, with a single bound he reached the door ofhis chamber, which, to his astonishment, he found entirely unfastened. The movement was so sudden and so entirely unlooked-for, that theintruder was taken by surprise; and beheld, while the youth closedsecurely the entrance, the hope of escape entirely cut off. Ralphadvanced toward his visiter, the dim outline of whose person was visibleupon the wall. Lifting his arm as he approached, what was hisastonishment to perceive the object of his assault sink before him uponthe floor, while the pleading voice of a woman called upon him formercy. 

"Spare me, Mr. Colleton--spare me"--she exclaimed, in undisguisedterror. 

"You here, Miss Munro, and at this hour of the night!" was the wonderinginquiry, as he lifted her from the floor, her limbs, trembling withagitation, scarcely able to support even her slender form. 

"Forgive me, sir, forgive me. Think not ill of me, I pray you. I come tosave you, --indeed, Mr. Colleton, I do--and nothing, believe me, wouldhave brought me here but the knowledge of your immediate danger. "

She felt the delicacy of her situation, and recognising her motivereadily, we will do him the justice to say, Ralph felt it too in theassurance of her lips. A respectful delicacy pervaded his manner as heinquired earnestly:--

"What is this danger, Miss Munro? I believe you fear for me, but may younot have exaggerated the cause of alarm to yourself? What have I tofear--from what would you save me?"

"Nay, ask me not, sir, but fly. There is but little time forexplanation, believe me. I know and do not imagine the danger. I can nottell you all, nor can you with safety bestow the time to hear. Yourmurderers are awake--they are in this very house, and nothing butinstant flight can save you from their hands. "

"But from whom, Miss Munro, am I to fear all this? What has given youthis alarm, which, until you can give me some clue to this mystery, Imust regard as unadvised and without foundation. I feel the kindness andinterest of your solicitude--deeply feel, and greatly respect it; but, unless you can give me some reasonable ground for your fears, I must bestubborn in resisting a connection which would have me fly like amidnight felon, without having seen the face of my foe. "

"Oh, heed not these false scruples. There is no shame in such a flight, and believe me, sir, I speak not unadvisedly. Nothing, but the mosturgent and immediate danger would have prompted me, at this hour, tocome here. If you would survive this night, take advantage of thewarning and fly. This moment you must determine--I know not, indeed, ifit be not too late even now for your extrication. The murderers, by thistime, may be on the way to your chamber, and they will not heed yourprayers, and they will scorn any defence which you might offer. "

"But who are they of whom you speak, Miss Munro? If I must fly, let meat least know from what and whom. What are my offences, and whom have Ioffended?"

"That is soon told, though I fear, sir, we waste the time in doing so. You have offended Rivers, and you know but little of him if you think itpossible for him to forget or forgive where once injured, howeverslightly. The miners generally have been taught to regard you as onewhose destruction alone can insure their safety from punishment fortheir late aggressions. My uncle too, I grieve to say it, is too muchunder the influence of Rivers, and does indeed just what his suggestionsprescribe. They have plotted your death, and will not scruple at itsperformance. They are even now below meditating its execution. By themerest good fortune I overheard their design, from which I feelpersuaded nothing now can make them recede. Rely not on their fear ofhuman punishment. They care perhaps just as little for the laws of manas of God, both of which they violate hourly with impunity, and fromboth of which they have always hitherto contrived to secure themselves. Let me entreat, therefore, that you will take no heed of that manfulcourage which would be honorable and proper with a fair enemy. Do notthink that I am a victim to unmeasured and womanly fears. I have seentoo much of the doings of these men, not to feel that no fancies of minecan do them injustice. They would murder you in your bed, and walk fromthe scene of their crime with confidence into the very courts ofjustice. "

"I believe you, Miss Munro, and nothing doubt the correctness of youropinion with regard to the character of these men. Indeed, I have reasonto know that what you say of Rivers, I have already realized in my ownperson. This attempt, if he makes it, will be the second in which he hasput my life in hazard, and I believe him, therefore, not too good forany attempt of this evil nature. But why may I not defend myself fromthe assassins? I can make these logs tenable till daylight from alltheir assaults, and then I should receive succor from the villagerswithout question. You see, too, I have arms which may prove troublesometo an enemy. "

"Trust not these chances; let me entreat that you rely not upon them. Were you able, as you say, to sustain yourself for the rest of the nightin this apartment, there would be no relief in the morning, for howwould you make your situation understood? Many of the villagers willhave flown before to-morrow into the nation, until the pursuit is wellover, which will most certainly be commenced before long. Some of themhave already gone, having heard of the approach of the residue of theGeorgia guard, to which the survivors at the late affair bore theparticulars. Those who venture to remain will not come nigh this house, dreading to be involved in the difficulties which now threaten itsoccupants. Their caution would only be the more increased on hearing ofany commotion. Wait not, therefore, I implore you, for the dawning ofthe day: it could never dawn to you. Rivers I know too well; he wouldoverreach you by some subtlety or other; and how easy, even while wespeak, to shoot you down through these uneven logs. Trust not, trustnot, I entreat you; there is a sure way of escape, and you still havetime, if at once you avail yourself of it. "

The maid spoke with earnestness and warmth, for the terrors of her mindhad given animation to her anxiety, while she sought to persuade thesomewhat stubborn youth into the proposed and certainly judicious flightshe contemplated for him. Her trepidation had made her part with much ofthat retreating timidity which had usually distinguished her manner; andperfectly assured herself of the causes of her present apprehension, shedid not scruple to exhibit--indeed she did not seem altogether consciousof--the deep interest which she took in the fate and fortunes of him whostood beside her. 

Flattered as he must have been by the marked feeling, which she couldneither disguise nor he mistake, the youth did not, how ever, for amoment seek to abuse it; but with a habit at once gentle and respectful, combated the various arguments and suggestions which, with a single eyeto his safety, she urged for his departure. In so doing, he obtainedfrom her all the particulars of her discovery, and was at lengthconvinced that her apprehensions were by no means groundless. She hadaccidentally come upon the conspirators at an interesting moment intheir deliberations, which at once revealed their object and its aim;and he at length saw that, except in flight, according to herproposition, the chances were against his escape at all. While they thusdeliberated, the distant sound of a chair falling below, occurring at anhour so unusual, gave an added force to her suggestions, and while itprompted anew her entreaties, greatly diminished his reluctance to theflight. 

"I will do just as you advise. I know not, Miss Munro, why my fate andfortune should have provoked in you such an interest, unless it be thatyours being a less selfish sex than ours, you are not apt to enter intocalculations as to the loss of quiet or of personal risk, which, in sodoing, you may incur. Whatever be the motive, however, I am grateful forits effects, and shall not readily forget the gentleness of that spiritwhich has done so much for the solace and the safety of one so sad inits aspect and so much a stranger in all respects. "

The youth spoke with a tone and manner the most tender yet respectful, which necessarily relieved from all perplexity that feeling of proprietyand maiden delicacy which otherwise must have made her situation anawkward one. Ralph was not so dull, however, as not to perceive that toa livelier emotion he might in justice attribute the conduct of hiscompanion; but, with a highly-honorable fastidiousness, he himselfsuggested a motive for her proceeding which her own delicacy renderedimproper for her utterance. Still the youth was not marble exactly: and, as he spoke, his arm gently encircled her waist; and her form, as ifincapable of its own support, hung for a moment, with apatheticlifelessness, upon his bosom; while her head, with an impulse notdifficult to define, drooped like a bending and dewy lily upon his arm. But the passive emotion, if we may so style it, was soon over; and, withan effort, in which firmness and feebleness strongly encountered, shefreed herself from his hold with an erect pride of manner, which gave asweet finish to the momentary display which she had made of womanlyweakness. Her voice, as she called upon him to follow her into thepassage, was again firm in a moment, and pervaded by a cold ease whichseemed to him artificial:--

"There is but little time left you now, sir, for escape: it werecriminal not to use it. Follow me boldly, but cautiously--I will leadthe way--the house is familiar to me, in night and day, and there mustbe no waste of time. "

He would have resisted this conduct, and himself taken the lead in theadvance; but, placing her small and trembling hand upon his arm, sheinsisted upon the course she had prescribed, and in a manner which hedid not venture to resist. Their steps were slow into the open spacewhich, seeming as an introduction to, at the same time separated thevarious chambers of the dwelling, and terminated in the large andcumbrous stairway which conducted to the lower story, and to which theircourse was now directed. The passage was of some length, but withcautious tread they proceeded in safety and without noise to the head ofthe stairway, when the maiden, who still preserved the lead, motionedhim back, retreating herself, as she did so, into the cover of a smallrecess, formed by the stairs, which it partially overhung, andpresenting a doubtful apology for a closet. Its door hung upon a brokenand single hinge, unclosed--leaving, however, so small an aperture, thatit might be difficult to account for their entrance. 

There, amid the dust and mystery of time-worn household trumpery, oldsaddles, broken bridles, and more than one dismembered harness, theycame to a pause, and were enabled now to perceive the realization inpart of her apprehensions. A small lantern, the rays of light from whichfeebly made their way through a single square in front, disclosed to thesight the dim forms of the two assassins, moving upward to thecontemplated deed of blood. 

The terrors of Lucy, as she surveyed their approach, were great; but, with a mind and spirit beyond those commonly in the possession of hersex, she was enabled to conquer and rise above them; and, though herheart beat with a thick and hurried apprehension, her soul grew calmerthe more closely approached the danger. Her alarm, to the mind of Ralph, was now sufficiently justified, as, looking through a crevice in thenarrow apartment in which he stood, he beheld the malignant andhell-branded visage of Rivers, peering like a dim and baleful light inadvance of his companion, in whose face a partial glimmer of the lamprevealed a something of reluctance, which rendered it doubtful how farMunro had in reality gone willingly on the task. 

It was, under all the circumstances, a curious survey for the youth. Hewas a man of high passions, sudden of action, impetuous andunhesitating. In a fair field, he would not have been at a loss for asingle moment; but here, the situation was so new, that he was more andmore undetermined in his spirit. He saw them commissioned with hismurder--treading, one by one, the several steps below him--approachingmomently higher and higher--and his heart beat audibly with conflictingemotions; while with one hand he grasped convulsively and desperatelythe handle of his dirk, the other being fully employed in sustaining thealmost fainting form of his high-souled but delicate companion. He feltthat, if discovered, he could do little in his defence and againstassault; and though without a thought but that of fierce struggle to thelast, his reason taught him to perceive with how little hope of success. 

As the assassins continued to advance, he could distinctly trace everychange of expression in their several countenances. In that of Rivers, linked with the hideousness that his wound conferred upon it, he notedthe more wicked workings of a spirit, the fell character of whosefeatures received no moderate exaggeration from the dim and flickeringglare of the lamp which his hand unsteadily carried. The whole face hadin it something awfully fearful. He seemed, in its expression, alreadystriking the blow at the breast of his victim, or rioting with afiendish revenge in his groaned agonies. A brief dialogue between hiscompanion and himself more fully describes the character of the monster. 

"Stay--you hurry too much in this matter, " said Munro, putting his handon that of Rivers, and restraining his steps for a moment as he paused, seemingly to listen. He continued--

"Your hand trembles, Rivers, and you let your lamp dance about too muchto find it useful. Your footstep is unsteady, and but now the stairscreaked heavily beneath you. You must proceed with more caution, or weshall be overheard. These are sleepless times, and this youth, whoappears to trouble you more than man ever troubled you before, may bejust as much awake as ourselves. If you are determined in this thing, benot imprudent. "

Rivers, who, on reaching the head of the flight, had been about to moveforward precipitately, now paused, though with much reluctance; and tothe speech of his companion, with a fearful expression of the lips, which, as they parted, disclosed the teeth white and closely clinchedbeneath them, replied, though without directly referring to its import--

"If I am determined--do you say!--But is not that the chamber where hesleeps?"

"No; old Barton sleeps there--_he_ sleeps at the end of the gallery. Becalm--why do you work your fingers in that manner?"

"See you not my knife is in them? I thought at that moment that it wasbetween his ribs, and working about in his heart. It was a sweet fancy, and, though I could not hear his groans as I stooped over him to listen, I almost thought I felt them. "

The hand of the maiden grasped that of Ralph convulsively as thesemuttered words came to their ears, and her respiration grew moredifficult and painful. _He_ shuddered at the vindictive spirit which thewretch exhibited, while his own, putting on a feller and a fiercertemper, could scarcely resist the impulse which would have prompted himat once to rush forth and stab him where he stood. But the counsels ofprudence had their influence, and he remained quiet and firm. Thecompanion of the ruffian felt no less than his other hearers the savagenature of his mood, as thus, in his own way, he partially rebuked it:

"These are horrid fancies, Rivers--more like those which we should lookto find in a panther than in a man; and you delight in them quite toomuch. Can you not kill your enemy without drinking his blood?"

"And where then would be the pleasure of revenge?"--he muttered, betweenhis closed teeth. "The soldier who in battle slays his opponent, hateshim not--he has no personal animosity to indulge. The man has nevercrossed his path in love or in ambition--yet he shoots him down, ruthlessly and relentlessly. Shall _he_ do no more who hates, who fears, who sickens at the sight of the man who has crossed his path in love andin ambition? I tell you, Munro, I hate this boy--this beardless, thisoverweening and insolent boy. He has overthrown, he has mortified me, where I alone should have stood supreme and supereminent. He has wrongedme--it may be without intention; but, what care I for thatqualification. Shall it be less an evil because he by whom it isperpetrated has neither the soul nor the sense to be conscious of hiserror. The child who trifles with the powder-match is lessoned by theexplosion which destroys him. It must be so with him. I never yetforgave a wrong, however slight and unimportant--I never will. It is notin my nature to do so; and as long as this boy can sleep at night, I cannot. I will not seek to sleep until he is laid to rest for ever!"

The whole of this brief dialogue, which had passed directly beside therecess in which the maiden and youth had taken shelter, was distinctlyaudible to them both. The blood of Ralph boiled within him at thislatter speech of the ruffian, in which he avowed a spirit of such diremalignity, as, in its utter disproportionateness to the supposed offenceof the youth, could only have been sanctioned by the nature which he haddeclared to have always been his prompter; and, at its close, the arm ofthe youth, grasping his weapon, was involuntarily stretched forth, andan instant more would have found it buried in the bosom of thewretch--but the action did not escape the quick eye of his companion, who, though trembling with undiminished terror, was yet mistress of allher senses, and perceived the ill-advised nature of his design. With amotion equally involuntary and sudden with his own, her taper fingersgrasped his wrist, and her eyes bright with dewy lustres, were directedupward, sweetly and appealingly to those which now bent themselves downupon her. In that moment of excitement and impending terror, aconsciousness of her situation and a sense of shame which more than everagitated her, rushed through her mind, and she leaned against the sideof the closet for that support for which her now revived and awakenedscruples forbade any reference to him from whom she had so recentlyreceived it. Still, there was nothing abrupt or unkind in her manner, and the youth did not hesitate again to place his arm around and insupport of the form which, in reality, needed his strength. In doing so, however, a slight noise was the consequence, which the quick sense ofRivers readily discerned. 

"Hark!--heard you nothing, Munro--no sound? Hear you no breathing?--Itseems at hand--in that closet. "

"Thou hast a quick ear to-night, Guy, as well as a quick step. I heard, and hear nothing, save the snorings of old Barton, whose chamber is justbeside you to the left. He has always had a reputation for the wildmusic which his nose contrives, during his sleep, to keep up in hisneighborhood. "

"It came from the opposite quarter, Munro, and was not unlike thesuppressed respiration of one who listens. "

"Pshaw! that can not be. There is no chamber there. That is but the oldcloset in which we store away lumber. You are quite too regardful ofyour senses. They will keep us here all night, and the fact is, I wishthe business well over. "

"Where does Lucy sleep?"

"In the off shed-room below. What of her?"

"Of her--oh nothing!" and Rivers paused musingly in the utterance ofthis reply, which fell syllable by syllable from his lips. The landlordproceeded:--

"Pass on, Rivers; pass on: or have you determined better about thismatter? Shall the youngster live? Indeed, I see not that his evidence, even if he gives it, which I very much doubt, can do us much harm, seeing that a few days more will put us out of the reach of judge andjury alike. "

"You would have made a prime counsellor and subtle disputant, Munro, worthy of the Philadelphia lawyers, " returned the other, in a sneer. "You think only of one part of this subject, and have no passions, noemotions: you can talk all day long on matters of feeling, withoutshowing any. Did I not say but now, that while that boy slept I couldnot?"

"Are you sure that when he ceases to sleep the case will be any better?"

The answer to this inquiry was unheard, as the pair passed on to thetenantless chamber. Watching their progress, and under the guidance ofthe young maiden, who seemed endued with a courage and conduct worthy ofmore experience and a stronger sex, the youth emerged from his place ofprecarious and uncomfortable concealment, and descended to the lowerfloor. A few moments sufficed to throw the saddle upon his steed, without arousing the sable groom; and having brought him under theshadow of a tree at some little distance from the house, he found nofurther obstruction in the way of his safe and sudden flight. He hadfastened the door of his chamber on leaving it, with much more cautionthan upon retiring for the night; and having withdrawn the key, which henow hurled into the woods, he felt assured that, unless the assassinshad other than the common modes of entry, he should gain a little timefrom the delay they would experience from this interruption; and thisinterval, returning to the doorway, he employed in acknowledgments whichwere well due to the young and trembling woman who stood beside him. 

"Take this little token, sweet Lucy, " said he, throwing about her neckthe chain and casket which he had unbound from his own--"take thislittle token of Ralph Colleton's gratitude for this night's goodservice. I shall redeem it, if I live, at a more pleasant season, butyou must keep it for me now. I will not soon forget the devotedness withwhich, on this occasion, you have perilled so much for a stranger. Should we never again meet, I pray you to remember me in your prayers, and I shall always remember you in mine. "

He little knew, while he thus spoke in a manner so humbly of himself, ofthe deep interest which his uniform gentleness of manner and respectfuldeference, so different from what she had been accustomed to encounter, had inspired in her bosom; and so small at this period was his vanity, that he did not trust himself for a moment to regard theconjecture--which ever and anon thrust itself upon him--that thefearless devotion of the maiden in his behalf and for his safety, had inreality a far more selfish origin than the mere general humanity of hersex and spirit. We will not say that she would not have done the same byany other member of the human family in like circumstances; but it isnot uncharitable to believe that she would have been less anxiouslyinterested, less warm in her interest, and less pained in the event ofan unfortunate result. 

Clasping the gorgeous chain about her neck, his arm again gentlyencircled her waist, her head drooped upon her bosom--she did notspeak--she appeared scarcely to feel. For a moment, life and all itspulses seemed resolutely at a stand; and with some apprehensions, theyouth drew her to his bosom, and spoke with words full of tenderness. She made no answer to his immediate speech; but her hands, as ifunconsciously, struck the spring which locked the casket that hung uponthe chain, and the miniature lay open before her, the dim light of themoon shining down upon it. She reclosed it suddenly, and undoing it fromthe chain, placed it with a trembling hand in his own; and with aneffort of calm and quiet playfulness, reminded him of the unintendedgift. He received it, but only to place it again in her hand, reunitingit to the chain. 

"Keep it, " said he, "Miss Munro--keep it until I return to reclaim it. It will be as safe in your hands--much safer, indeed, than in mine. Shewhose features it describes will not chide, that, at a moment of peril, I place it in the care of one as gentle as herself. "

Her eyes were downcast, as, again receiving it, she inquired with agirlish curiosity, "Is her name Edith, Mr. Colleton, of whom thesefeatures are the likeness!"

The youth, surprised by the question, met the inquiry with another. 

"How know you?--wherefore do you ask?"

She saw his astonishment, and with a calm which had not, during thewhole scene between them, marked her voice or demeanor, she repliedinstantly:--

"No matter--no matter, sir. I know not well why I put thequestion--certainly with no object, and am now more than answered. "

The youth pondered over the affair in silence for a few moments, but desirous of satisfying the curiosity of the maiden, though ona subject and in relation to one of whom he had sworn himself tosilence--wondering, at the same time, not less at the inquiry than theknowledge which it conveyed, of that which he had locked up, as hethought, in the recesses of his own bosom--was about to reply, when ahurried step, and sudden noise from the upper apartment of the house, warned them of the dangers of further delay. The maiden interrupted withrapid tones the speech he was about to commence:--

"Fly, sir--fly. There is no time to be lost. You have lingered too longalready. Do not hesitate longer--you have heard the determination ofRivers--this disappointment will only make him more furious. Fly, then, and speak not. Take the left road at the fork: it leads to the river. Itis the dullest, and if they pursue, they will be most likely to fallinto the other. "

"Farewell, then, my good, my protecting angel--I shall not forgetyou--have no apprehensions for me--I have now but few for myself. Yet, ere I go--" and he bent down, and before she was conscious of hisdesign, his lips were pressed warmly to her pale and beautiful forehead. "Be not vexed--chide me not, " he murmured--"regard me as a brother--if Ilive I shall certainly become one. Farewell!"

Leaping with a single bound to his saddle, he stood erect for a moment, then vigorously applying his spurs, he had vanished in an instant fromthe sight. She paused in the doorway until the sounds of his hurryingprogress had ceased to fall upon her ears; then, with a mournful spiritand heavy step, slowly re-entered the apartment. 

CHAPTER XX. 

THE OUTLAW AND HIS VICTIM. 

Lucy Munro re-entered the dwelling at a moment most inopportune. It wasnot less her obvious policy than desire--prompted as well by thenecessity of escaping the notice and consequent suspicions of those whomshe had defrauded of their prey, as by a due sense of that delicatepropriety which belonged to her sex, and which her education, as thereader will have conjectured, had taught her properly to estimate--thatmade her now seek to avoid scrutiny or observation at the moment of herreturn. Though the niece, and now under the sole direction and authorityof Munro, she was the child of one as little like that personage inspirit and pursuit as may well be imagined. It is not necessary that weshould dwell more particularly upon this difference. It happened withthe two brothers, as many of us have discovered in other cases, thattheir mental and moral make, though seemingly under the same tutorship, was widely dissimilar. The elder Munro, at an early period in life, broke through all restraints--defied all responsibilities--scorned allhuman consequences--took no pride or pleasure in any of its domesticassociations--and was only known as a vicious profligate, with whomnothing might be done in the way of restraint or reformation. When grownto manhood, he suddenly left his parental home, and went, for a time, noone could say whither. When heard of, it appeared from all accounts thathis licentiousness of habit had not deserted him: still, however, it hadnot, as had been anticipated, led to any fearful or very perniciousresults. Years passed on, the parents died, and the brothers grew morethan ever separate; when, in different and remote communities, they eachtook wives to themselves. 

The younger, Edgar Munro, the father of Lucy, grew prosperous inbusiness--for a season at least--and, until borne down by a rush ofunfavorable circumstances, he spared neither pains nor expense in theculture of the young mind of that daughter whose fortunes are nowsomewhat before us. Nothing which might tend in the slightest to herpersonal improvement had been withheld; and the due feminine grace andaccomplishment which followed these cares fitted the maiden for the mostrefined intellectual converse, and for every gentle association. She wasfamiliar with books; had acquired a large taste for letters; and a veinof romantic enthusiasm, not uncommon to the southern temperament, andwhich she possessed in a considerable degree, was not a little sharpenedand exaggerated by the works which fell into her hands. 

Tenderly loved and gently nurtured by her parents, it was at that periodin her life in which their presence and guardianship were most seriouslyneeded, that she became an orphan; and her future charge necessarilydevolved upon an uncle, between whom and her father, since their earlymanhood, but little association of any kind had taken place. The onelooked upon the other as too licentious, if not criminally so, in hishabits and pursuits; he did not know their extent, or dream of theircharacter, or he had never doubted for an instant; while he, in turn, soestimated, did not fail to consider and to style his more sedate brotheran inveterate and tedious proser; a dull sermonizer on feelings which heknew nothing about, and could never understand--one who prosed on to theend of the chapter, without charm or change, worrying all about him withexhortations to which they yielded no regard. 

The parties were fairly quits, and there was no love lost between them. They saw each other but seldom, and, when the surviving brother took uphis abode in the _new purchase_, as the Indian acquisitions of moderntimes have been usually styled, he was lost sight of, for a time, entirely, by his more staid and worthy kinsman. 

Still, Edgar Munro did not look upon his brother as utterly bad. A wildindifference to social forms, and those staid customs which in theestimation of society become virtues, was, in his idea, the most seriouserror of which Walter had been guilty. In this thought he persisted tothe last, and did not so much feel the privations to which his deathmust subject his child, in the belief and hope that his brother wouldnot only be able but willing to supply the loss. 

In one respect he was not mistaken. The afflictions which threw theniece of Walter a dependant upon his bounty, and a charge upon hisattention, revived in some measure his almost smothered and in partforgotten regards of kindred; and with a tolerably good grace he cameforward to the duty, and took the orphan to the asylum, such as it was, to which his brother's death-bed prayer had recommended her. At first, there was something to her young mind savoring of the romance to whichshe had rather given herself up, in the notion of a woodland cottage, and rural sports, and wild vines gadding fantastically around secludedbowers; but the reality--the sad reality of such a home and itsassociations--pressed too soon and heavily upon her to permit her muchlonger to entertain or encourage the dream of that glad fancy in whichshe originally set out. 

The sphere to which she was transferred, it was soon evident, wasneither grateful to the heart nor suited to the mind whose education hadbeen such as hers; and the spirit of the young maiden, at all timesgiven rather to a dreamy melancholy than to any very animated impulses, put on, in its new abiding-place, a garb of increased severity, which atcertain moments indicated more of deep and settled misanthropy than anymere constitutionality of habit. 

Munro was not at all times rude of speech and manner; and, when hepleased, knew well how so to direct himself as to sooth such adisposition. He saw, and in a little while well understood, the temperof his niece; and, with a consideration under all circumstances rathercreditable, he would most usually defer, with a ready accommodation ofhis own, to her peculiarities. He was pleased and proud of heraccomplishments; and from being thus proud, so far as such an emotioncould consistently comport with a life and a licentiousness such as his, he had learned, in reality, to love the object who could thus awaken asentiment so much beyond those inculcated by all his other habits. Toher he exhibited none of the harsh manner which marked his intercoursewith all other persons; and in his heart sincerely regretted, and soughtto avoid the necessity which, as we have elsewhere seen, had made himpledge her hand to Rivers--a disposition of it which he knew was no lessgalling and painful to her than it was irksome yet unavoidable tohimself. 

Unhappily, however, for these sentiments, he was too much under thecontrol and at the mercy of his colleague to resist or refuse hisapplication for her person; and though for a long time baffling, undervarious pretences, the pursuit of that ferocious ruffian, he felt thatthe time was at hand, unless some providential interference willed itotherwise, when the sacrifice would be insisted on and must be made; orprobably her safety, as well as his own, might necessarily becompromised. He knew too well the character of Rivers, and was too muchin his power, to risk much in opposition to his will and desires: and, as we have already heard him declare, from having been at one time, andin some respects, the tutor, he had now become, from the operation ofcircumstances, the mere creature and instrument of that unprincipledwretch. 

Whatever may have been the crimes of Munro beyond those alreadydeveloped--known to and in the possession of Rivers--and whatever thenature of those ties, as well of league as of mutual risk, which boundthe parties together in such close affinity, it is not necessary that weshould state, nor, indeed, might it be altogether within our compass orcapacity to do so. Their connection had, we doubt not, manyramifications; and was strengthened, there is little question, by athousand mutual necessities, resulting from their joint andfrequently-repeated violations of the laws of the land. They were bothmembers of an irregular club, known by its constituents in Georgia asthe most atrocious criminal that ever offended society or defied itspunishments; and the almost masonic mysteries and bond whichdistinguished the members provided them with a pledge of security whichgave an added impetus to their already reckless vindictiveness againstman and humanity. In a country, the population of which, few and farbetween, is spread over a wide, wild, and little-cultivated territory, the chances of punishment for crime, rarely realized, scarcelyoccasioned a thought among offenders; and invited, by the impunity whichmarked their atrocities, their reiterated commission. We have digressed, however, somewhat from our narrative, but thus much was necessary to theproper understanding of the portions immediately before us, and to theconsideration of which we now return. 

The moment was inopportune, as we have already remarked, at which LucyMunro endeavored to effect her return to her own apartment. She wascompelled, for the attainment of this object, to cross directly over thegreat hall, from the room adjoining and back of which the littleshed-room projected in which she lodged. This hall was immediatelyentered upon from the passage-way, leading into the court in front, andbut a few steps were necessary for its attainment. The hall had but asingle outlet besides that through which she now entered, and this ledat once into the adjoining apartment, through which only could she makeher way to her own. Unhappily, this passage also contained the stairwayflight which led into the upper story of the building; and, in her hasteto accomplish her return, she had penetrated too far to effect herretreat, when a sudden change of direction in the light which Riverscarried sufficed to develop the form of that person, at the foot of thestairs, followed by Munro, just returning from the attempt which she hadrendered fruitless, and now approaching directly toward her. 

Conscious of the awkwardness of her situation, and with a degree ofapprehension which now for the first time seemed to paralyze herfaculties, she endeavored, but with some uncertainty and hesitation ofmanner, to gain the shelter of the wall which stretched dimly besideher; a hope not entirely vain, had she pursued it decisively, since thelamp which Rivers carried gave forth but a feeble ray, barely adequateto the task of guiding the footsteps of those who employed it. But theglance of the outlaw, rendered, it would seem, more malignantlypenetrating from his recent disappointment, detected the movement; andthough, from the imperfectness of the light, uncertain of the object, with a ready activity, the result of a conviction that thelong-sought-for victim was now before him, he sprang forward, flingingaside the lamp as he did so, and grasping with one hand and with rigidgripe the almost-fainting girl: the other, brandishing a bared knife, was uplifted to strike, when her shrieks arrested the blow. 

Disappointed in not finding the object he sought, the fury of the outlawwas rather heightened than diminished when he discovered that his armonly encircled a young and terrified female; and his teeth were gnashedin token of the bitter wrath in his bosom, and angry curses came fromhis lips in the undisguised vexation of his spirit. In the meantime, Munro advanced, and the lamp having been dashed out in the onset ofRivers, they were still ignorant of the character of their prisoner, until, having somewhat recovered from her first alarm, and strugglingfor deliverance from the painful gripe which secured her arm, sheexclaimed--

"Unhand me, sir--unhand me, on the instant. What mean you by thisviolence?"

"Ha! it is you then, fair mistress, that have done this work. It is youthat have meddled in the concerns of men, prying into their plans, andarresting their execution. By my soul, I had not thought you so ready orso apt; but how do you reconcile it to your notions of propriety to beabroad at an hour which is something late for a coy damsel? Munro, youmust look to these rare doings, or they will work you some difficulty intime to come. "

Munro advanced and addressed her with some sternness--"Why are youabroad, Lucy, and at this hour? why this disquietude, and what hasalarmed you?--why have you left your chamber?"

The uncle did not obtain, nor indeed did he appear to expect, any answerto his inquiries. In the meanwhile, Rivers held possession of her arm, and she continued fruitlessly struggling for some moments in his grasp, referring at length to the speaker for that interference which he nowappeared slow to manifest. 

"Oh, sir! will you suffer me to be treated thus--will you not make thisman undo his hold, and let me retire to my chamber?"

"You should have been there long before this, Lucy, " was the reply, in agrave, stern accent. "You must not complain, if, found thus, atmidnight, in a part of the building remote from your chamber, you shouldbe liable to suspicions of meddling with things which should not concernyou. "

"Come, mistress--pray answer to this. Where have you been to-night--whatdoing--why abroad? Have you been eavesdropping--telling tales--hatchingplots?"

The natural ferocity of Rivers's manner was rather heightened by thetone which he assumed. The maiden, struggling still for the release forwhich her spirit would not suffer her to implore, exclaimed:--

"Insolent! By what right do you ask me these or any questions? Unhandme, coward--unhand me. You are strong and brave only where the feebleare your opponents. "

But he maintained his grasp with even more rigidity than before; and sheturned towards the spot at which stood her uncle, but he had left theapartment for a light. 

"Your speech is bold, fair mistress, and ill suits my temper. You mustbe more chary of your language, or you will provoke me beyond my ownstrength of restraint. You are my property--my slave, if I so please it, and all your appeals to your uncle will be of no effect. Hark you! youhave done that to-night for which I am almost tempted to put this daggerinto your heart, woman as you are! You have come between me and myvictim--between me and my enemy. I had summed up all my wrongs, intending their settlement to-night. You have thwarted all my hopes--youhave defrauded me of all my anticipations. What is it prevents me fromputting you to death on the spot? Nothing. I have no fears, no loves, tohold and keep me back. I live but for revenge, and that which stays andwould prevent me from its enjoyment, must also become its victim. "

At this moment, Munro returned with a lamp. The affrighted girl againappealed to him, but he heeded her not. He soon left the passage, andthe outlaw proceeded:--

"You love this youth--nay, shrink not back; let not your head droop inshame; he is worthy of your love, and for this, among other things, Ihate him. He is worthy of the love of others, and for this, too, I hatehim. Fool that you are, he cares not for you. 'Spite of all your aidto-night, he will not remember you to-morrow--he has no thought ofyou--his hope is built upon--he is wedded to another. 

"Hear me, then! your life is in my hands, and at my mercy. There arenone present who could interfere and arrest the blow. My dagger is evennow upon your bosom--do you not feel it? At a word--a single suggestionof my thought--it performs its office, and for this night's defeat I amhalf revenged. You may arrest my arm--you may procure your release--evenmore--you may escape from the bondage of that union with me for whichyour uncle stands pledged, if you please. "

"Speak--say--how!" was the eager exclamation of the maiden when thislast suggestion met her ears. 

"Put me on the scent--say on what route have you sent this boy, that Imay realize the revenge I so often dream of. "

"Never, never, as I hope to live. I would rather you should strike medead on the spot. "

"Why, so I will, " he exclaimed furiously, and his arm rose and theweapon descended, but he arrested the stroke as it approached her. 

"No! not yet. There will be time enough for this, and you will perhapsbe more ready and resigned when I have got rid of this youth in whom youare so much interested. I need not disguise my purpose to you--you musthave known it, when conspiring for its defeat; and now, Lucy, beassured, I shall not slumber in pursuit of him. I may be delayed, myrevenge may be protracted, but I shall close with him at last. Withholding the clue which you may unfold, can not serve him very greatly;and having it in your hands, you may serve yourself and me. Take myoffer--put me on his route, so that he shall not escape me, and be freehenceforward from pursuit, or, as you phrase it, from persecution ofmine. "

"You offer highly, very highly, Guy Rivers, and I should be tempted toanything, save this. But I have not taken this step to undo it. I shallgive you no clue, no assistance which may lead to crime and to themurder of the innocent. Release my hand, sir, and suffer me to retire. "

"You have the means of safety and release in your own hands--a singlecondition complied with, and, so far as I am concerned, they are yours. Where is he gone--where secreted! What is the route which you haveadvised him to take? Speak, and to the point, Lucy Munro, for I may notlonger be trifled with. "

"He is safe, and by this time, I hope, beyond your reach. I tell youthus much, because I feel that it can not yield you more satisfactionthan it yields to me. "

"It is in vain, woman, that you would trifle with and delay me; he cannot escape me in the end. All these woods are familiar to me, in nightas in day, as the apartment in which we stand; and towards this boy Ientertain a feeling which will endue me with an activity and energy asunshrinking in the pursuit as the appetite for revenge is keen whichgives them birth and impulse. I hate him with a sleepless, anunforgiving hate, that can not be quieted. He has dishonored me in thepresence of these men--he has been the instrument through which I bearthis badge, this brand-stamp on my cheek--he has come between my passionand its object--nay, droop not--I have no reference now to you, thoughyou, too, have been won by his insidious attractions, while he gives youno thought in return--he has done more than this, occasioned more thanthis, and wonder not that I had it in my heart at one moment to-night toput my dagger into your bosom, since through you it had been defraudedof its object. But why tremble--do you not tell me he is safe?"

"I do! and for this reason I tremble. I tremble with joy, not fear. Irejoice that through my poor help he is safe. I did it all. I soughthim--hear me, Guy Rivers, for in his safety I feel strong to speak--Isought him even in his chamber, and felt no shame--I led the way--Iguided him through all the avenues of the house--when you ascended thestairs we stood over it in the closet which is at its head. We beheldyour progress--saw, and counted every step you took; heard every wordyou uttered; and more than once, when your fiend soul spoke through yourlips, in horrible threatenings, my hand arrested the weapon with whichthe youth whom you now seek would have sent you to your long account, with all your sins upon your head. I saved you from his blow; notbecause you deserved to live, but because, at that moment, you were toolittle prepared to die. "

It would be difficult to imagine--certainly impossible to describe, therage of Rivers, as, with an excited spirit, the young girl, stilltrembling, as she expressed it, from joy, not fear, avowed all theparticulars of Colleton's escape. She proceeded with much of the fervorand manner of one roused into all the inspiration of a holy defiance ofdanger:--

"Wonder not, therefore, that I tremble--my soul is full of joy at hisescape. I heed not the sneer and the sarcasm which is upon your lips andin your eyes. I went boldly and confidently even into the chamber of theyouth--I aroused him from his slumbers--I defied, at that moment ofperil, what were far worse to me than your suspicions--I defied such asmight have been his. I was conscious of no sin--no improper thought--andI called upon God to protect and to sanction me in what I hadundertaken. He has done so, and I bless him for the sanction. "

She sunk upon her knees as she spoke, and her lips murmured and partedas if in prayer, while the tears--tears of gladness--streamed warmly andabundantly from her eyes. The rage of the outlaw grew momently darkerand less governable. The white foam collected about his mouth--while hishands, though still retaining their gripe upon hers, trembled almost asmuch as her own. He spoke in broken and bitter words. 

"And may God curse you for it! You have dared much, Lucy Munro, thishour. You have bearded a worse fury than the tiger thirsting afterblood. What madness prompts you to this folly? You have heard me avow myutter, uncontrollable hatred of this man--my determination, if possible, to destroy him, and yet you interpose. You dare to save him in mydefiance. You teach him our designs, and labor to thwart them yourself. Hear me, girl! you know me well--you know I never threaten withoutexecution. I can understand how it is that a spirit, feeling at thismoment as does your own, should defy death. But, bethink you--is therenothing in your thought which is worse than death, from the terrors ofwhich, the pure mind, however fortified by heroic resolution, must stillshrink and tremble? Beware, then, how you chafe me. Say where the youthhas gone, and in this way retrieve, if you can, the error which taughtyou to connive at his escape. "

"I know not what you mean, and have no fears of anything you can do. Onthis point I feel secure, and bid you defiance. To think now, that, having chiefly effected the escape of the youth, I would place him againwithin your power, argues a degree of stupidity in me that is wantonlyinsulting. I tell you he has fled, by this time, beyond your reach. Isay no more. It is enough that he is in safety; before a word of mineputs him in danger, I'll perish by your hands, or any hands. "

"Then shall you perish, fool!" cried the ruffian; and his hand, hurriedby the ferocious impulse of his rage, was again uplifted, when, in herstruggles at freedom, a new object met his sight in the chain andportrait which Ralph had flung about her neck, and which, now fallingfrom her bosom, arrested his attention, and seemed to awaken somerecognition in his mind. His hold relaxed upon her arm, and with eagerhaste he seized the portrait, tearing it away with a single wrench fromthe rich chain to which it was appended, and which now in brokenfragments was strewed upon the floor. 

Lucy sprang towards him convulsively, and vainly endeavored at itsrecovery. Rivers broke the spring, and his eyes gazed with serpent-likefixedness upon the exquisitely beautiful features which it developed. His whole appearance underwent a change. The sternness had departed fromhis face which now put on an air of abstraction and wandering, notusually a habit with it. He gazed long and fixedly upon the portrait, unheeding the efforts of the girl to obtain it, and muttering atfrequent intervals detached sentences, having little dependence upon oneanother:--

"Ay--it is she, " he exclaimed--"true to the life--bright, beautiful, young, innocent--and I--But let me not think!"--

Then turning to the maid--

"Fond fool--see you the object of adoration with him whom you sounprofitably adore. He loves _her_, girl--she, whom I--but why should Itell it you? is it not enough that we have both loved and loved in vain;and, in my revenge, you too shall enjoy yours. "

"I have nothing to revenge, Guy Rivers--nothing for you, above allothers, to revenge. Give me the miniature; I have it in trust, and itmust not go out of my possession. "

She clung to him as she spoke, fruitlessly endeavoring at the recoveryof that which he studiously kept from her reach. He parried her effortsfor a while with something of forbearance; but ere long his originaltemper returned, and he exclaimed, with all the air of the demon:--

"Why will you tempt me, and why longer should I trifle? You cannot havethe picture--it belongs, or should belong, as well as its original, tome. My concern is now with the robber from whom you obtained it. Willyou not say upon what route he went? Will you not guide me--and, remember well--there are some terrors greater to your mind than anythreat of death. Declare, for the last time--what road he took. "

The maiden was still, and showed no sign of reply. Her eye wandered--herspirit was in prayer. She was alone with a ruffian, irresponsible andreckless, and she had many fears. 

"Will you not speak?" he cried--"then you must hear. Disclose the fact, Lucy--say, what is the road, or what the course you have directed forthis youth's escape, or--mark me! I have you in my power--my fullestpower--with nothing to restrain my passion or my power, and--"

She struggled desperately to release herself from his grasp, but herenewed it with all his sinewy strength, enforcing, with a vicelikegripe, the consciousness, in her mind, of the futility of all herphysical efforts. 

"Do you not hear!" he said. "Do you comprehend me. "

"Do your worst!" she cried. "Kill me! I defy your power and yourmalice!"

"Ha! but do you defy my passions. Hark ye, if ye fear not death, thereis something worse than death to so romantic a damsel, which shall teachye fear. Obey me, girl--report the route taken by this fugitive, or byall that is black in hell or bright in heaven, I--"

And with a whisper, he hissed the concluding and cruel threat in theears of the shuddering and shrinking girl. With a husky horror in hervoice, she cried out:--

"You dare not! monster as you are, you dare not!" then shrieking, at thefull height of her voice--"Save me, uncle! save me! save me!"

"Save you! It is he that dooms you! He has given you up to any fate thatI shall decree!"

"Liar! away! I defy you. You dare not, ruffian! Your foul threat is butmeant to frighten me. "

The creeping terrors of her voice, as she spoke, contradicted the tenorof her speech. Her fears--quite as extreme as he sought to makethem--were fully evinced in her trembling accents. 

"Frighten you!" answered the ruffian. "Frighten you! why, not sodifficult a matter either! But it is as easy to do, as to threaten--tomake you feel as to make you fear--and why not? why should you notbecome the thing at once for which you have been long destined? Oncecertainly mine, Lucy Munro, you will abandon the silly notion that youcan be anything to Ralph Colleton! Come!--"

Her shrieks answered him. He clapped his handkerchief upon her mouth. 

"Uncle! uncle! save me!"

She was half stifled--she felt breath and strength failing. Her brutalassailant was hauling her away, with a force to which she could nolonger oppose resistance; and with a single half-ejaculated prayer--"Oh, God! be merciful!" she sunk senselessly at his feet, even as a fallingcorse. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

"THOU SHALT DO NO MURDER!"

Even at this moment, Munro entered the apartment. He came not a momenttoo soon. Rivers had abused his opportunity thus far; and it is not tobe doubted that he would have forborne none of the advantages which hisbrute strength afforded him over the feeble innocent, were it not forthe interposition of the uncle. He _had_ lied, when he had asserted tothe girl the sanction of the uncle for his threatened crime. Munro waswilling that his niece should become the _wife_ of the outlaw, andbarely willing to consent even to this; but for anything less thanthis--base as he was--he would sooner have braved every issue with theruffian, and perished himself in defence of the girl's virtue. He hadhis pride of family, strange to say, though nursed and nestled in abosom which could boast no other virtue. 

The moment he saw the condition of Lucy, with the grasp of Rivers stillupon her, he tore her away with the strength of a giant. 

"What have you been doing, Guy?"

His keen and suspicious glance of eye conveyed the question moresignificantly. 

"Nothing! she is a fool only!"

"And you have been a brute! Beware! I tell you, Guy Rivers, if you butruffle the hair of this child in violence, I will knife you, as soon asI would my worst enemy. "

"Pshaw! I only threatened her to make her confess where she had sentColleton or hidden him. "

"Ay, but there are some threats, Guy, that call for throat-cutting. Lookto it. We know each other; and you know that, though I'm willing youshould _marry_ Lucy, I'll not stand by and see you harm her; and, withmy permission you lay no hands on her, until you are married. "

"Very well!" answered the ruffian sullenly, and turning away, "see thatyou get the priest soon ready. I'll wait upon neither man nor woman overlong! You sha'n't trifle with me much longer. "

To this speech Munro made no answer. He devoted himself to his stillinsensible niece, whom he raised carefully from the floor, and laid herupon a rude settee that stood in the apartment. She meanwhile remainedunconscious of his care, which was limited to fanning her face andsprinkling water upon it. 

"Why not carry her to her chamber--put her in bed, and let us be off?"said Rivers. 

"Wait awhile!" was the answer. 

The girl had evidently received a severe shock. Munro shook his head, and looked at Rivers angrily. 

"See to it, Guy, if any harm comes to her. "

"Pshaw!" said the other, "she is recovering now. "

He was right. The eyes of the sufferer unclosed, but they werevacant--they lacked all intelligence. Munro pulled a flask of spiritsfrom his pocket, and poured some into her lips. They were livid, and hercheeks of ashy paleness. 

"She recovers--see!"

The teeth opened and shut together again with a sudden spasmodic energy. The eyes began to receive light. Her breathing increased. 

"She will do now, " muttered Munro. "She will recover directly. Getyourself ready, Guy, and prepare to mount, while I see that she is putto bed. It's now a necessity that we should push this stranger to thewall, and silence him altogether. I don't oppose you now, seeing thatwe've got to do it. "

"Ay, " quoth Rivers, somewhat abstractedly--for he was a person ofchanging and capricious moods--"ay! ay! it has to be done! Well! we willdo it!--as for her!"

Here he drew nigh and grasped the hand of the only half-consciousdamsel, and stared earnestly in her face. Her eyes opened largely andwildly upon him, then closed again; a shudder passed over her form, andher hand was convulsively withdrawn from his grasp. 

"Come, come, let her alone, and be off, " said Munro. "As long as you arehere, she'll be in a fit! See to the horses. There's no use to wait. Youlittle know Lucy Munro if you reckon to get anything out of her. You maystrike till doomsday at her bosom, but, where she's fixed in principle, she'll perish before she yields. Nothing can move her when she'sresolved. In that she's the very likeness of her father, who was like arock when he had sworn a thing. "

"Ha! but the rock may be split, and the woman's will must be made toyield to a superior. I could soon--"

He took her hand once more in his iron grasp. 

"Let her go, Guy!" said Munro sternly. "She shall have no rough usagewhile I'm standing by. Remember that! It's true, she's meddled inmatters that didn't concern her, but there is an excuse. It waswomanlike to do so, and I can't blame her. She's a true woman, Guy--allheart and soul--as noble a young thing as ever broke the world'sbread--too noble to live with such as we, Guy; and I only wish I had somuch man's strength as to be worthy of living with such as she. "

"A plague on her nobility! It will cut all our throats, or halter us;and your methodistical jargon only encourages her. Noble or not, she hasbeen cunning enough to listen to our private conversation; has found outall our designs; has blabbed everything to this young fellow, and madehim master of our lives. Yes! would you believe it of her nobleness anddelicacy, that she has this night visited him in his very chamber?"

"What!"

"Yes! indeed! and she avows it boldly. "

"Ah! if she avows it, there's no harm!"

"What! no harm?"

"I mean to _her_. She's had no bad purpose in going to his chamber. Isee it all!"

"Well, and is it not quite enough to drive a man mad, to think that thebest designs of a man are to be thwarted, and his neck put in danger, bythe meddling of a thing like this? She has blabbed all our secrets--nay, made him listen to them--for, even while we ascended the stairs to hischamber, they were concealed in the closet above the stairway, watchedall our movements, and heard every word we had to say. "

"And you _would_ be talking, " retorted the landlord. The other glared athim ferociously, but proceeded:--

"I heard the sound--their breathing--I told you at the time that I heardsomething stirring in the closet. But you had your answer. For anexperienced man, Munro, you are duller than an owl by daylight. "

"I'm afraid so, " answered the other coolly. "But it's too late now fortalk. We must be off and active, if we would be doing anything. I'vebeen out to the stable, and find that the young fellow has taken off hishorse. He has been cool enough about it, for saddle and bridle are bothgone. He's had time enough to gear up in proper style, while you were soeloquent along the stairs. I reckon there was something to scare him offat last, however, for here's his dirk--I suppose it's his--which I foundat the stable-door. He must have dropped it when about to mount. "

"'Tis his!" said Rivers, seizing and examining it. "It is the weapon hedrew on me at the diggings. "

"He has the start of us--"

"But knows nothing of the woods. It is not too late. Let us be off. Lucyis recovering, and you can now leave her in safety. She will find theway to her chamber--or to _some_ chamber. It seems that she has noscruples in going to any. "

"Stop that, Guy! Don't slander the girl. "

"Pooh! are you going to set up for a sentimentalist?"

"No: but if you can't learn to stop talking, I shall set you down as afool! For a man of action, you use more of an unnecessary tongue thanany living man I ever met. For God's sake, sink the lawyer when you'reout of court! It will be high time to brush up for a speech when you arein the dock, and pleading with the halter dangling in your eyes. Oh, don't glare upon me! He who flings about his arrows by the handfulmustn't be angry if some of them are flung back. "

"Are you ready?"

"Ay, ready!--She's opening her eyes. We can leave her now. --What's thecourse?"

"We can determine in the open air. He will probably go west, and willtake one or other of the two traces at the fork, and his hoofs will soontell us which. Our horses are refreshed by this, and are in readiness. You have pistols: see to the flints and priming. There must be noscruples now. The matter has gone quite too far for quiet, and thoughthe affair was all mine at first, it is now as perfectly yours. "

As Rivers spoke, Munro drew forth his pistols and looked carefully atthe priming. The sharp click of the springing steel, as the pan wasthrown open, now fully aroused Lucy to that consciousness which had beenonly partial in the greater part of this dialogue. Springing to her feetwith an eagerness and energy that was quite astonishing after her lateprostration, she rushed forward to her uncle, and looked appealinglyinto his face, though she did not speak, while her hand graspedtenaciously his arm. 

"What means the girl?" exclaimed Munro, now apprehensive of some mentalderangement. She spoke, with a deep emphasis, but a single sentence:--

"It is written--thou shalt do no murder!"

The solemn tone--the sudden, the almost fierce action--the peculiarabruptness of the apostrophe--the whitely-robed, the almost spiritualelevation of figure--all so dramatic--combined necessarily to startleand surprise; and, for a few moments, no answer was returned to theunlooked-for speech. But the effect could not be permanent upon mindsmade familiar with the thousand forms of human and strong energies. Munro, after a brief pause, replied--

"Who speaks of murder, girl? Why this wild, this uncalled-forexhortation?"

"Not wild, not uncalled-for, uncle, but most necessary. Wherefore wouldyou pursue the youth, arms in your hands, hatred in your heart, andhorrible threatenings upon your lips? Why put yourself into the hands ofthis fierce monster, as the sharp instrument to do his vengeance andgratify his savage malignity against the young and the gentle? If youwould do no murder, not so he. He will do it--he will make you do it, but he will have it done. Approach me not--approach me not--let meperish, rather! O God--my uncle, let him come not near me, if you wouldnot see me die upon the spot!" she exclaimed, in the most terrifiedmanner, and with a shuddering horror, as Rivers, toward the conclusionof her speech, had approached her with the, view to an answer. To heruncle she again addressed herself, with an energy which gave additionalemphasis to her language:--

"Uncle--you are my father now--you will not forget the dying prayer of abrother! My prayer is his. Keep that man from me--let me not seehim--let him come not near me with his polluted and polluting breath!You know not what he is--you know him but as a stabber--as a hater--as athief! But were my knowledge yours--could I utter in your ears the foullanguage, the fiend-threatenings which his accursed lips uttered inmine!--but no--save me from him is all I ask--protect the poororphan--the feeble, the trampled child of your brother! Keep me from thepresence of that bad man!"

As she spoke, she sank at the feet of the person she addressed, herhands were clasped about his knees, and she lay there shuddering andshrinking, until he lifted her up in his arms. Somewhat softened by hiskindness of manner, the pressure upon her brain of that agony wasimmediately relieved, and a succession of tears and sobs marked thediminished influence of her terrors. But, as Rivers attempted somethingin reply, she started--

"Let me go--let me not hear him speak! His breath is pollution--hiswords are full of foul threats and dreadful thoughts. If you knew allthat I know--if you feared what I fear, uncle--you would nigh slay himon the spot. "

This mental suffering of his niece was not without its influence uponher uncle, who, as we have said before, had a certain kind and degree ofpride--pride of character we may almost call it--not inconsistent withpursuits and a condition of life wild and wicked even as his. His eyesternly settled upon that of his companion, as, without a word, he borethe almost lifeless girl into the chamber of his wife, who, aroused bythe clamor, had now and then looked forth upon the scene, but was toomuch the creature of timidity to venture entirely amid the disputants. Placing her under the charge of the old lady, Munro uttered a fewconsolatory words in Lucy's ear, but she heard him not. Her thoughtsevidently wandered to other than selfish considerations at that moment, and, as he left the chamber, she raised her finger impressively:--

"Do no murder, uncle! let him not persuade you into crime; break offfrom a league which compels you to brook a foul insult to those you arebound in duty to protect. "

"Would I could!" was his muttered sentence as he left the chamber. Hefelt the justice of the counsel, but wore the bewildered expression ofcountenance of one conscious of what is right, but wanting courage forits adoption. 

"She has told you no foolish story of me?" was the somewhat anxiousspeech of Rivers upon the reappearance of the landlord. 

"She has said nothing in plain words, Guy Rivers--but yet quite enoughto make me doubt whether you, and not this boy we pursue, should nothave my weapon in your throat. But beware! The honor of that child ofEdgar Munro is to me what would have been my own; and let me find thatyou have gone a tittle beyond the permitted point, in speech or action, and we cut asunder. I shall then make as little bones of putting abullet through your ribs as into those of the wild bullock of the hills. _I_ am what I am: my hope is that _she_ may always be the pure creaturewhich she now is, if it were only that she might pray for me. "

"She has mistaken me, Munro--"

"Say no more, Guy. She has not _much_ mistaken you, or I have. Let usspeak no more on this subject; you know my mind, and will beadvised. --Let us now be off. The horses are in readiness, and waiting, and a good spur will bring us up with the game. The youth, you say, hasmoney about him, a gold watch, and--"

The more savage ruffian grinned as he listened to these words. Theybetrayed the meaner motives of action in the case of the companion, whocould acknowledge the argument of cupidity, while insensible to that ofrevenge. 

"Ay! enough to pay you for your share in the performance Do your partwell, and you shall have all that he carries--gold, watch, trinkets, horse, everything. I shall be quite content to take--his life! Are yousatisfied? Are there any scruples now?"

"No! none! I have no scruples! But to cut a throat, or blow out a man'sliver with a brace of bullets, is a work that should be well paid for. The performance is by no means so agreeable that one should seek to doit for nothing. "

Guy Rivers fancied himself a nobler animal than his companion, as hefelt that he needed not the mercenary motive for the performance of themurderous action. 

They were mounted, the horses being ready for them in the rear of thebuilding. 

"Round the hollow. We'll skirt the village, and not go through it, " saidMunro. "We may gain something on the route to the fork of the roads bytaking the blind track by the red hill. "

"As you will. Go ahead!"

A few more words sufficed to arrange the route, and regulate theirpursuit, and a few moments sufficed to send them off in full speed overthe stony road, both with a common and desperate purpose, but each movedby arguments and a passion of his own. 

In her lonely chamber, Lucy Munro, now recovered to acutestconsciousness, heard the tread of their departing hoofs; and, claspingher hands, she sank upon her knees, yielding up her whole soul to silentprayer. The poor girl never slept that night. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

THE BLOODY DEED. 

Let us leave the outlaws to their progress for a brief space, while wegather up and pursue for awhile some other clues of our story. 

We have witnessed the separation of Mark Forrester from his sweetheart, at the place of trysting. The poor fellow had recovered some of hisconfidence in himself and fortune, and was now prepared to go forth witha new sentiment of hope within his bosom. The sting was in a degreetaken from his conscience--his elastic and sanguine temperamentcontributed to this--and with renewed impulses to adventure, and withnew anticipations of the happiness that we all dream to find in life;the erring, but really honest fellow, rode fearlessly through the dimforests, without needing more auspicious lights than those of thekindling moon and stars. The favor of old Allen, the continued love ofKate, the encouragements of young Colleton, his own feeling of theabsence of any malice in his heart, even while committing his crime, andthe farther fact that he was well-mounted, and speeding from the regionwhere punishment threatened--all these were influences which conspiredto lessen, in his mind, the griefs of his present privation, and thelonely emotions which naturally promised to accompany him in hissolitary progress. 

His course lay for the great Southwest--the unopened forests, and mightywaters of the Mississippi valley. Here, he was to begin a new life. Unknown, he would shake off the fears which his crime necessarilyinspired. Respited from death and danger, he would atone for it bypenitence and honest works. Kate Allen should be his solace, and therewould be young and lovely children smiling around his board. Such werethe natural dreams of the young and sanguine exile. 

"But who shall ride from his destiny?" saith the proverb. The wing ofthe bird is no security against the shaft of the fowler, and the helmetand the shield keep not away the draught that is poisoned. He who wearsthe greaves, the gorget, and the coat-of-mail, holds defiance to thestorm of battle; but he drinks and dies in the hall of banqueting. Whatmatters it, too, though the eagle soars and screams among the clouds, halfway up to heaven--flaunting his proud pinions, and glaring withaudacious glance in the very eye of the sun--death waits for him in thequiet of his own eyry, nestling with his brood. These are the goodlytexts of the Arabian sage, in whose garden-tree, so much was he thebeloved of heaven, the birds came and nightly sang for him those solemntruths--those lessons of a perfect wisdom--which none but the favored ofthe Deity are ever permitted to hear. They will find a sufficientcommentary in the fortune of the rider whom we have just beheld settingout from his parting with his mistress, on his way of new adventure--hisheart comparatively light, and his spirit made buoyant with the throngof pleasant fancies which continually gathered in his thought. 

The interview between Forrester and his mistress had been somewhatprotracted, and his route from her residence to the road in which wefind him, being somewhat circuitous, the night had waned considerablyere he had made much progress. He now rode carelessly, as one whomused--his horse, not urged by its rider, became somewhat careful of hisvigor, and his gait was moderated much from that which had marked hisoutset. He had entered upon the trace through a thick wood, when thesound of other hoofs came down upon the wind; not to his ears, for, swallowed up in his own meditations, his senses had lost much of theirwonted acuteness. He had not been long gone from the point of the roadin which we found him, when his place upon the same route was suppliedby the pursuing party, Rivers and Munro. They were both admirablymounted, and seemed little to regard, in their manner of using them, thevalue of the good beasts which they bestrode--driving them as they did, resolutely over fallen trees and jutting rocks, their sides alreadydashed with foam, and the flanks bloody with the repeated application ofthe rowel. It was soon evident that farther pursuit at such a rate wouldbe impossible: and Munro, as well for the protection of the horses, aswith a knowledge of this necessity, insisted upon a more moderated andmeasured pace. 

Much against his own will, Rivers assented, though his impatiencefrequent found utterance in words querulously sarcastic. The love ofgain was a besetting sin of the landlord, and it was by this passionthat his accomplice found it easy, on most occasions, to defeat thesuggestions of his better judgment. The tauntings of the former, therefore, were particularly bestowed upon this feature in hischaracter, as he found himself compelled to yield to the requisition ofthe latter, with whom the value of the horses was no smallconsideration. 

"Well, well, " said Rivers, "if you say so, it must be so; though I amsure, if we push briskly ahead, we shall find our bargain in it. You toowill find the horse of the youth, upon which you had long since set youreyes and heart, a full equivalent, even if we entirely ruin themiserable beasts we ride. "

"The horse you ride is no miserable beast, " retorted the landlord, whohad some of the pride of a southron in this particular, and seemedsolicitous for the honor of his stud--"you have jaded him by yourfurious gait, and seem entirely insensible to the fact that our progressfor the last half hour, continued much longer, would knock up anyanimal. I'm not so sure, too, Guy, that we shall find the youngster, orthat we shall be able to get our own bargain out of him when found. He'sa tough colt, I take it, and will show fight unless you surprise him. "

"Stay--hear you nothing now, as the wind sets up from below? Was notthat the tramping of a horse?"

They drew up cautiously as the inquiry was put by Rivers, and pausingfor a few minutes, listened attentively. Munro dismounted, and layinghis ear to the ground, endeavored to detect and distinguish the distantsounds, which, in that way, may be heard with far greater readiness; buthe arose without being satisfied. 

"You hear nothing?"

"Not a sound but that which we make ourselves. Your ears to-night aremarvellous quick, but they catch nothing. This is the third timeto-night you have fancied sounds, and heard what I could not; and Iclaim to have senses in quite as high perfection as your own. "

"And without doubt you have; but, know you not, Munro, that wherever thepassions are concerned, the senses become so much more acute; and, indeed, are so many sentinels and spies--scouring about perpetually, andwith this advantage over all other sentinels, that they then neverslumber. So, whether one hate or love, the ear and the eye take heed ofall that is going on--they minister to the prevailing passion, and seem, in their own exercise, to acquire some of the motive and impulse whichbelong to it. "

"I believe this in most respects to be the case. I have observed it onmore than one occasion myself, and in my own person. But, Guy, in allthat you have said, and all that I have seen, I do not yet understandwhy it is that you entertain such a mortal antipathy to this young man, more than to many others who have at times crossed your path. I nowunderstand the necessity for putting him out of the way; but this isanother matter. Before we thought it possible that he could injure us, you had the same violent hatred, and would have destroyed him at thefirst glance. There is more in this, Guy, than you have been willing tolet out; and I look upon it as strange, to say nothing more, that Ishould be kept so much in the dark upon the subject. "

Rivers smiled grimly at the inquiry, and replied at once, though withevident insincerity, --

"Perhaps my desire to get rid of him, then, arose from a presentimentthat we should have to do it in the end. You know I have a gift offoreseeing and foretelling. "

"This won't do for me, Guy; I know you too well to regard you as onelikely to be influenced by notions of this nature--you must put me onsome other scent. "

"Why, so I would, Wat, if I were assured that I myself knew the preciseimpulse which sets me on this work. But the fact is, my hate to the boysprings from certain influences which may not be defined by name--whichgrow out of those moral mysteries of our nature, for which we canscarcely account to ourselves; and, by the operation of which, we areled to the performance of things seemingly without any adequate cause ornecessity. A few reflections might give you the full force of this. Whydo some men shrink from a cat? There is an instance now in John Bremer;a fellow, you know, who would make no more ado about exchangingrifle-shots with his enemy at twenty paces, than at taking dinner; yet ablack cat throws him into fits, from which for two days he neverperfectly recovers. Again--there are some persons to whom the perfume offlowers brings sickness, and the song of a bird sadness. How are we toaccount for all these things, unless we do so by a reference to thepeculiar make of the man? In this way you may understand why it is thatI hate this boy, and would destroy him. He is my black cat, and hispresence for ever throws me into fits. "

"I have heard of the things of which you speak, and have known some ofthem myself; but I never could believe that the _nature_ of the personhad been the occasion. I was always inclined to think that circumstancesin childhood, of which the recollection is forgotten--such as great andsudden fright to the infant, or a blow which affected the brain, werethe operating influences. All these things, however, only affect thefancies--they beget fears and notions--never deep and abidinghatred--unquiet passion, and long-treasured malignity, such as I find inyou on this occasion. "

"Upon this point, Munro, you may be correct. I do not mean to say thathatred and a desire to destroy are consequent to antipathies such as youdescribe; but still, something may be said in favor of such a notion. Itappears to me but natural to seek the destruction of that which isodious or irksome to any of our senses. Why do you crush the crawlingspider with your heel? You fear not its venom; inspect it, and themechanism of its make, the architecture of its own fabrication, are, tothe full, as wonderful as anything within your comprehension; but yet, without knowing why, with an impulse given you, as it would seem, frominfancy, you seek its destruction with a persevering industry, whichmight lead one to suppose you had in view your direst enemy. "

"This is all very true; and from infancy up we do this thing, but thecause can not be in any loathsomeness which its presence occasions inthe mind, for we perceive the same boy destroying with measured torturethe gaudiest butterfly which his hat can encompass. "

"_Non sequitur_, " said Rivers. 

"What's that? some of your d----d law gibberish, I suppose. If you wantme to talk with you at all, Guy, you must speak in a language Iunderstand. "

"Why, so I will, Wat. I only meant to say, in a phrase common to thelaw, and which your friend Pippin makes use of a dozen times a day, thatit did not follow from what you said, that the causes which led to thedeath of the spider and the butterfly were the same. This we may know bythe manner in which they are respectively destroyed. The boy, with muchprecaution and an aversion he does not seek to disguise in his attemptson the spider, employs his shoe or a stick for the purpose of slaughter. But, with the butterfly, the case is altogether different. He firstcatches, and does not fear to hold it in his hand. He inspects itclosely, and proceeds to analyze that which his young thought hasalready taught him is a beautiful creation of the insect world. Hestrips it, wing by wing of its gaudy covering; and then, with a feelingof ineffable scorn, that so wealthy a noble should go unarmed andunprotected, he dashes him to the ground, and terminates his sufferingswithout further scruple. The spider, having a sting, he is compelled tofear, and consequently taught to respect. The feelings are all perfectlynatural, however, which prompt his proceedings. The curiosity is commonand innate which impels him to the inspection of the insect; and thatfeeling is equally a natural impulse which prompts him to the death ofthe spider without hesitation. So with me--it is enough that I hate thisboy, though possessed of numberless attractions of mind and person. Shall I do him the kindness to inquire whether there be reason for themood which prompts me to destroy him?"

"You were always too much for me, Guy, at this sort of argument, and youtalk the matter over ingeniously enough, I grant; but still I am notsatisfied, that a mere antipathy, without show of reason, originallyinduced your dislike to this young man. When you first sought to do himup, you were conscious of this, and gave, as a reason for the desire, the cut upon your face, which so much disfigured your loveliness. "

Rivers did not appear very much to relish or regard this speech, whichhad something of satire in it; but he was wise enough to restrain hisfeelings, as, reverting back to their original topic, he spoke in thefollowing manner:--

"You are unusually earnest after reasons and motives for action, to-night: is it not strange, Munro, that it has never occasionedsurprise in your mind, that one like myself, so far superior in numerousrespects to the men I have consented to lead and herd with, should havemade such my profession?"

"Not at all, " was the immediate and ready response of his companion. "Not at all. This was no mystery to me, for I very well knew that youhad no choice, no alternative. What else could you have done? Outlawedand under sentence, I knew that you could never return, in any safety orsecurity, whatever might be your disguise, to the society which haddriven you out--and I'm sure that your chance would be but a bad onewere you to seek a return to the old practice at Gwinnett courthouse. Any attempt there to argue a fellow out of the halter would be only toargue yourself into it. "

"Pshaw, Munro, that is the case now--that is the necessity anddifficulty of to-day. But where, and what was the necessity, think you, when, in the midst of good practice at Gwinnett bar, where I ruledwithout competitor, riding roughshod over bench, bar, and jury, dreadedalike by all, I threw myself into the ranks of these men, and put ontheir habits? I speak not now in praise of myself, more than the facts, as you yourself know them, will sufficiently warrant. I am now abovethose idle vanities which would make me deceive myself as to my ownmental merits; but, that such was my standing there and then, I holdindisputable. "

"It is true. I sometimes look back and laugh at the manner in which youused to bully the old judge, and the gaping jury, and your own brotherlawyers, while the foam would run through your clenched teeth and fromyour lips in very passion; and then I wondered, when you were doing sowell, that you ever gave up there, to undertake a business, the veryfirst job in which put your neck in danger. "

"You may well wonder, Munro. I could not well explain the mystery tomyself, were I to try; and it is this which made the question and doubtwhich we set out to explain. To those who knew me well from the first, it is not matter of surprise that I should be for ever in excitements ofone kind or another. From my childhood up, my temper was of a restlessand unquiet character--I was always a peevish, a fretful anddiscontented person. I looked with scorn and contempt upon the humdrumways of those about me, and longed for perpetual change, and wild andstirring incidents. My passions, always fretful and excitable, werenever satisfied except when I was employed in some way which enabled meto feed and keep alive the irritation which was their and my very breathof life. With such a spirit, how could I be what men style and considera good man? What folly to expect it. Virtue is but a sleepy, in-door, domestic quality--inconsistent with enterprise or great activity. Thereare no drones so perfect in the world as the truly orthodox. Hence theusual superiority of a dissenting, over an established church. It is forthis reason, too, and from this cause, that a great man is seldom, ifever, a good one. It is inconsistent with the very nature of things toexpect it, unless it be from a co-operation of singular circumstances, whose return is with the comets. Vice, on the contrary, is endowed withstrong passions--a feverish thirst after forbidden fruits and waters--abird-nesting propensity, that carries it away from the haunts of thecrowded city, into strange wilds and interminable forests. It lives uponadventure--it counts its years by incidents, and has no other mode ofcomputing time or of enjoying life. This fact--and it is undeniable withrespect to both the parties--will furnish a sufficient reason why thebest heroes of the best poets are always great criminals. Were this notthe case, from what would the interest be drawn?--where would be theincident, if all men, pursuing the quiet paths of non-interference withthe rights, the lives, or the liberties of one another, spilt no blood, invaded no territory, robbed no lord of his lady, enslaved and made nocaptives in war? A virtuous hero would be a useless personage both inplay and poem--and the spectator or reader would fall asleep over theutterance of stale apothegms. What writer of sense, for instance, woulddream of bringing up George Washington to figure in either of theseforms before the world--and how, if he did so, would he prevent readeror auditor from getting excessively tired, and perhaps disgusted, withone, whom all men are now agreed to regard as the hero of civilization?Nor do I utter sentiments which are subjects either of doubt ordisputation. I could put the question in such a form as would bring themillion to agree with me. Look, for instance, at the execution of acriminal. See the thousands that will assemble, day after day, aftertravelling miles for that single object, to gape and gaze upon the lastagonizing pangs and paroxsyms of a fellow-creature--not regarding for aninstant the fatigue of their position, the press of the crowd, or theloss of a dinner--totally insusceptible, it would seem, of the severalinfluences of heat and cold, wind and rain, which at any other timewould drive them to their beds or firesides. The same motive whichprovokes this desire in the spectator, is the parent, to a certainextent, of the very crime which has led to the exhibition. It is themorbid appetite, which sometimes grows to madness--the creature ofunregulated passions, ill-judged direction, and sometimes, even of thelaws and usages of society itself, which is so much interested in thepromotion of characteristics the very reverse. It may be that I havemore of this perilous stuff about me than the generality of mankind; butI am satisfied there are few of them, taught as I have been, and theprey of like influences, whose temper had been very different from mine. The early and operating circumstances under which I grew up, all tendedto the rank growth and encouragement of the more violent and vexingpassions. I was the victim of a tyranny, which, in the end, made me tooa tyrant. To feel, myself, and exercise the temper thus taught me, I hadto acquire power in order to secure victims; and all my aims in life, all my desires, tended to this one pursuit. Indifferent to me, alike, the spider who could sting, or the harmless butterfly whose onlyoffensiveness is in the folly of his wearing a glitter which he can nottake care of. I was a merciless enemy, giving no quarter; and with anIshmaelitish spirit, lifting my hand against all the tribes that werebuzzing around me. "

"I believe you have spoken the truth, Guy, so far as your particularqualities of temper are concerned; for, had I undertaken to have spokenfor you in relation to this subject, I should probably have said, thoughnot to the same degree, the same thing; but the wonder with me is, how, with such feelings, you should have so long remained in quiet, and insome respects, perfectly harmless. "

"There is as little mystery in the one as in the other. You may judgethat my sphere of action--speaking of _action_ in a literal sense--wasrather circumscribed at Gwinnett courthouse: but, the fact is, I wasthen but acquiring my education. I was, for the first time, studyingrogues, and the study of rogues is not unaptly fitted to make one takeup the business. _I_, at least, found it to have that effect. But, evenat Gwinnett courthouse, learning as I did, and what I did, there was onepassion, or perhaps a modified form of the ruling passion, which mighthave swallowed up all the rest had time been allowed it. I was young, and not free from vanity; particularly as, for the first time, my earshad been won with praise and gentle flatteries. The possession of early, and afterward undisputed talents, acquired for me deference and respect;and I was soon tempted to desire the applauses of the swinish multitude, and to feel a thirsting after public distinction. In short, I grewambitious. I soon became sick and tired of the applauses, the fame, ofmy own ten-mile horizon; its origin seemed equivocal, its worth andquality questionable, at the best. My spirit grew troubled with awholesale discontent, and roved in search of a wider field, a moreelevated and extensive empire. But how could I, the petty lawyer of acounty court, in the midst of a wilderness, appropriate time, find meansand opportunities even for travel? I was poor, and profits are few to asmall lawyer, whose best cases are paid for by a bale of cotton or anegro, when both of them are down in the market. In vain, andrepeatedly, did I struggle with circumstances that for ever foiled me inmy desires; until, in a rash and accursed hour, when chance, and you, and the devil, threw the opportunity for crime in my path! It did notescape me, and--but you know the rest. "

"I do, but would rather hear you tell it. When you speak thus, you putme in mind of some of the stump-speeches you used to make when you ranfor the legislature. "

"Ay, that was another, and not the least of the many reverses which myambition was doomed to meet with. You knew the man who opposed me; youknow that a more shallow and insignificant fop and fool never yet daredto thrust his head into a deliberative assembly. But, he was rich, and Ipoor. He a potato, the growth of the soil; I, though generally admitteda plant of more promise and pretension--I was an exotic! He was apatrician--one of the small nobility--a growth, _sui generis_, of theplace--"

"Damn your law-phrases! stop with that, if you please. "

"Well, well! he was one of the great men; I was a poor plebeian, whosechief misfortune, at that time, consisted in my not having a father or agreat-grandfather a better man than myself! His money did the work, andI was bought and beat out of my election, which I considered certain. Ithen acquired knowledge of two things. I learned duly to estimate thevalue of the democratic principle, when I beheld the vile slaves, whosevotes his money had commanded, laughing in scorn at the miserablecreature they had themselves put over them. They felt not--not they--thedouble shame of their doings. They felt that he was King Log, but neverfelt how despicable they were as his subjects. This taught me, too, thevalue of money--its wonderful magic and mystery. In the mood occasionedby all these things, you found me, for the first time, and in a readytemper for any villany. You attempted to console me for my defeats, butI heard you not until you spoke of revenge. I was not then to learn howto be vindictive: I had always been so. I knew, by instinct, how to lapblood; you only taught me how to scent it! My first great crime provedmy nature. Performed under your direction, though without your aid, itwas wantonly cruel in its execution, since the prize desired mightreadily have been obtained without the life of its possessor. You, moremerciful than myself, would have held me back, and arrested my stroke;but that would have been taking from the repast its finish: thepleasure, for it was such to me in my condition of mind, would have beenlost entirely. It may sound strangely even in your ears when I say so, but I could no more have kept my knife from that man's throat than Icould have taken wing for the heavens. He was a poor coward; made nostruggle, and begged most piteously for his life; had the audacity totalk of his great possessions, his rank in society, his wife andchildren. These were enjoyments all withheld from me; these were thevery things the want of which had made me what I was--what I am--andfuriously I struck my weapon into his mouth, silencing his insultingspeech. Should such a mean spirit as his have joys which were denied tome? I spurned his quivering carcass with my foot. At that moment I feltmyself; I had something to live for. I knew my appetite, and felt thatit was native. I had acquired a knowledge of a new luxury, and ceased towonder at the crimes of a Nero and a Caligula. Think you, Munro, thatthe thousands who assemble at the execution of a criminal troublethemselves to inquire into the merits of his case--into the justice ofhis death and punishment? Ask they whether he is the victim of justiceor of tyranny? No! they go to see a show--they love blood, and in thisway have the enjoyment furnished to their hands, without the risk whichmust follow the shedding of it for themselves. "

"There is one thing, Guy, upon which I never thought to ask you. Whatbecame of that beautiful young girl from Carolina, on a visit to thevillage, when you lost your election? You were then cavorting about herin great style, and I could see that you were well nigh as much madafter her as upon the loss of the seat. "

Rivers started at the inquiry in astonishment. He had never fanciedthat, in such matters, Munro had been so observant, and for a fewmoments gave no reply. He evidently winced beneath the inquiry; but hesoon recovered himself, however--for, though at times exhibiting thepassions of a demoniac, he was too much of a proficient not to be able, in the end, to command the coolness of the villain. 

"I had thought to have said nothing on this subject, Munro, but thereare few things which escape your observation. In replying to you on thispoint, you will now have all the mystery explained of my rancorouspursuit of this boy. That girl--then a mere girl--refused me, as perhapsyou know; and when, heated with wine and irritated with rejection, Ipressed the point rather too warmly, she treated me with contempt andwithdrew from the apartment. This youth is the favored, the successfulrival. Look upon this picture, Walter--now, while the moon streamsthrough the branches upon it--and wonder not that it maddened, and stillmaddens me, to think that, for his smooth face and aristocratic airs ofsuperiority, I was to be sacrificed and despised. She was probably ayear younger than himself; but I saw at the time, though both of themappeared unconscious of the fact, that she loved him then. What with herrejection and scorn, coming at the same time with my election defeat, Iam what I am. These defeats were wormwood to my soul; and, if I amcriminal, the parties concerned in them have been the cause of thecrime. "

"A very consoling argument, if you could only prove it!"

"Very likely--you are not alone. The million would say with yourself. But hear the case as I put it, and not as it is put by the majority. Providence endowed me with a certain superiority of mind over myfellows. I had capacities which they had not--talents to which they didnot aspire, and the possession of which they readily conceded to me. These talents fitted me for certain stations in society, to which, as Ihad the talents pre-eminently for such stations, the inference is fairthat Providence intended me for some such stations. But I was denied myplace. Society, guilty of favoritism and prejudice, gave to others, notso well fitted as myself for its purposes or necessities, the station inall particulars designed for me. I was denied my birthright, andrebelled. Can society complain, when prostituting herself and deprivingme of my rights, that I resisted her usurpation and denied herauthority? Shall she, doing wrong herself in the first instance, undertake to punish? Surely not. My rights were admitted--my superiorcapacity: but the people were rotten to the core; they had not even thevirtue of truth to themselves. They made their own governors of thevilest and the worst. They willingly became slaves, and are punished inmore ways than one. They first create the tyrants--for tyrants are thecreatures of the people they sway, and never make themselves; they nextdrive into banishment their more legitimate rulers; and the consequence, in the third place, is, that they make enemies of those whom they exile. Such is the case with me, and such--but hark! That surely is the treadof a horse. Do you hear it? there is no mistake now--" and as he spoke, the measured trampings were heard resounding at some distance, seeminglyin advance of them. 

"We must now use the spur, Munro; your horses have had indulgence enoughfor the last hour, and we may tax them a little now. "

"Well, push on as you please; but do you know anything of this route, and what course will you pursue in doing him up?"

"Leave all that to me. As for the route, it is an old acquaintance; andthe blaze on this tree reminds me that we can here have a short cutwhich will carry us at a good sweep round this hill, bringing us uponthe main trace about two miles farther down. We must take this course, and spur on, that we may get ahead of him, and be quietly stationed whenhe comes. We shall gain it, I am confident, before our man, who seems tobe taking it easily. He will have three miles at the least to go, andover a road that will keep him in a walk half the way. We shall be therein time. "

They reached the point proposed in due season. Their victim had not yetmade his appearance, and they had sufficient time for all theirarrangements. The place was one well calculated for the successfulaccomplishment of a deed of darkness. The road at the foot of the hillnarrowed into a path scarcely wide enough for the passage of a singlehorseman. The shrubbery and copse on either side overhung it, and inmany places were so thickly interwoven, that when, as at intervals ofthe night, the moon shone out among the thick and broken clouds whichhung upon and mostly obscured her course, her scattered rays scarcelypenetrated the dense enclosure. 

At length the horseman approached, and in silence. Descending the hill, his motion was slow and tedious. He entered the fatal avenue; and, whenin the midst of it, Rivers started from the side of his comrade, and, advancing under the shelter of a tree, awaited his progress. He came--noword was spoken--a single stroke was given, and the horseman, throwingup his hands, grasped the limb which projected over, while his horsepassed from under him. He held on for a moment to the branch, while agroan of deepest agony broke from his lips, when he fell supine to theground. At that moment, the moon shone forth unimpeded and unobscured bya single cloud. The person of the wounded man was fully apparent to thesight. He struggled, but spoke not; and the hand of Rivers was againuplifted, when Munro rushed forward. 

"Stay--away, Guy!--we are mistaken--this is not our man!"

The victim heard the words, and, with something like an effort at alaugh, though seemingly in great agony, exclaimed--

"Ah, Munro, is that you?--I am so glad! but I'm afraid you come toolate. This is a cruel blow; and--for what? What have I done to you, that--oh!--"

The tones of the voice--the person of the suffering man--were nowreadily distinguishable. 

"Good God! Rivers, what is to be the end of all this blundering?"

"Who would have thought to find _him_ here?" was the ferocious answer;the disappointed malice of the speaker prompting him to the bitterestfeelings against the unintended victim--"why was he in the way? he isalways in the way!"

"I am afraid you've done for him. "

"We must be sure of it. "

"Great God! would you kill him?"

"Why not? It must be done now. "

The wounded man beheld the action of the speaker, and heard thediscussion. He gasped out a prayer for life:--

"Spare me, Guy! Save me, Wat, if you have a man's heart in your bosom. Save me! spare me! I would live! I--oh, spare me!"

And the dying man threw up his hands feebly, in order to avert the blow;but it was in vain. Munro would have interposed, but, this time, themurderer was too quick for him, if not too strong. With a sudden rush heflung his associate aside, stooped down, and smote--smote fatally. 

"Kate!--ah!--O God, have mercy!"

The wretched and unsuspecting victim fell back upon the earth with theselast words--dead--sent to his dread account, with all his sins upon hishead! And what a dream of simple happiness in two fond, feeble hearts, was thus cruelly and terribly dispersed for ever!

CHAPTER XXIII. 

WHAT FOLLOWED THE MURDER. 

There was a dreadful pause, after the commission of the deed, in whichno word was spoken by either of the parties. The murderer, meanwhile, with the utmost composure wiped his bloody knife in the coat of the manwhom he had slain. Boldly and coolly then, he broke the silence whichwas certainly a painful one to Munro if not to himself. 

"We shall hear no more of his insolence. I owed him a debt. It is paid. If fools will be in the way of danger, they must take the consequences. "

The landlord only groaned. 

The murderer laughed. 

"It is your luck, " he said, "always to groan with devout feeling, whenyou have _done_ the work of the devil! You may spare your groans, ifthey are designed for repentance. They are always too late!"

"It is a sad truth, though the devil said it. "

"Well, rouse up, and let's be moving. So far, our ride has been fornothing. We must leave this carrion to the vultures. What next? Will itbe of any use to pursue this boy again to-night? What say you? We mustpursue and silence him of course; but we have pushed the brutes alreadysufficiently to-night. They would be of little service to-night, in alonger chase. "

The person addressed did not immediately reply, and when he spoke, didnot answer to the speech of his companion. His reply, at length, wasframed in obedience to the gloomy and remorseful course of his thought. 

"It will be no wonder, Guy, if the whole country turn out upon us. Youare too wanton in your doings. Wherefore when I told you of your error, did you strike the poor wretch again. "

The landlord, it will be seen, spoke simply with reference to policy andexpediency, and deserved as little credit for humanity as the individualhe rebuked. In this particular lay the difference between them. Bothwere equally ruffianly, but the one had less of passion, less offeeling, and more of profession in the matter. With the other, the tradeof crime was adopted strictly in subservience to the dictates ofill-regulated desires and emotions, suffering defeat in their hope ofindulgence, and stimulating to a morbid action which became a disease. The references of Munro were always addressed to the petty gains; andthe miserly nature, thus perpetually exhibiting itself, at the expenseof all other emotions, was, in fact, the true influence which subjectedhim almost to the sole dictation of his accomplice, in whom a somewhatlofty distaste for such a peculiarity had occasioned a manner and habitof mind, the superiority of which was readily felt by the other. Still, we must do the landlord the justice to say that he had no such passionfor bloodshed as characterized his companion. 

"Why strike again!" was the response of Rivers. "You talk like a child. Would you have had him live to blab? Saw you not that he knew us both?Are you so green as to think, if suffered to escape, his tongue or handswould have been idle? You should know better. But the fact is, he couldnot have lived. The first blow was fatal; and, if I had deliberated foran instant, I should have followed the suggestions of your humanity--Ishould have withheld the second, which merely terminated his agony. "

"It was a rash and bloody deed, and I would we had made sure of your manbefore blindly rushing into these unnecessary risks. It is owing to yourinsane love of blood, that you so frequently blunder in your object"

"Your scruples and complainings, Wat, remind me of that farmyardphilosopher, who always locked the door of his stable after the steedhad been stolen. You have your sermon ready in time for the funeral, butnot during the life for whose benefit you make it. But whose fault wasit that we followed the wrong game? Did you not make certain of thefresh track at the fork, so that there was no doubting you?"

"I did--there was a fresh track, and our coming upon Forrester provesit. There may have been another on the other prong of the fork, anddoubtless the youth we pursue has taken that; but you were in such aninfernal hurry that I had scarce time to find out what I did. "

"Well, you will preach no more on the subject. We have failed, andaccounting for won't mend the failure. As for this bull-headed fellow, he deserves his fate for his old insolence. He was for ever puttinghimself in my way, and may not complain that I have at last put him outof it. But come, we have no further need to remain here, though just aslittle to pursue further in the present condition of our horses. "

"What shall we do with the body? we can not leave it here. "

"Why not?--What should we do with it, I pray? The wolves may want adinner to-morrow, and I would be charitable. Yet stay--where is the dirkwhich you found at the stable? Give it me. "

"What would you do?"

"You shall see. Forrester's horse is off--fairly frightened, and willtake the route back to the old range. He will doubtless go to oldAllen's clearing, and carry the first news. There will be a search, andwhen they find the body, they will not overlook the weapon, which Ishall place beside it. There will then be other pursuers than me; and ifit bring the boy to the gallows, I shall not regret our mistake tonight. "

As he spoke, he took the dagger, the sheath of which he threw at somedistance in advance upon the road, then smeared the blade with the bloodof the murdered man, and thrust the weapon into his garments, near thewound. 

"You are well taught in the profession, Guy, and, if you would let me, Iwould leave it off, if for no other reason than the very shame of beingso much outdone in it. But we may as well strip him. If his gold is inhis pouch, it will be a spoil worth the taking, for he has been meltingand running for several days past at Murkey's furnace. "

Rivers turned away, and the feeling which his countenance exhibitedmight have been that of disdainful contempt as he replied, "Take it, if you please--I am in no want of his money. _My_ object wasnot his robbery. "

The scorn was seemingly understood; for, without proceeding to do as heproposed, Munro retained his position for a few moments, appearing tobusy himself with the bridle of his horse, having adjusted which hereturned to his companion. 

"Well, are you ready for a start? We have a good piece to ride, andshould be in motion. We have both of us much to do in the next threedays, or rather nights; and need not hesitate what to take hold offirst. The court will sit on Monday, and if you are determined to standand see it out--a plan which I don't altogether like--why, we mustprepare to get rid of such witnesses as we may think likely to becometroublesome. "

"That matter will be seen to. I have ordered Dillon to have ten men inreadiness, if need be for so many, to carry off Pippin, and a fewothers, till the adjournment. It will be a dear jest to the lawyer, andone not less novel than terrifying to him, to miss a court under suchcircumstances. I take it, he has never been absent from a session fortwenty years; for, if sick before, he is certain to get well in time forbusiness, spite of his physician. "

The grim smile which disfigured still more the visage of Rivers at theludicrous association which the proposed abduction of the lawyerawakened in his mind, was reflected fully back from that of hiscompanion, whose habit of face, however, in this respect, was morenotorious for gravity than any other less stable expression. He carriedout, in words, the fancied occurrence; described the lawyer as ravingover his undocketed and unargued cases, and the numberless embryos lyingcomposedly in his pigeonholes, awaiting, with praiseworthy patience, themoment when they should take upon them a local habitation and a name;while he, upon whom they so much depended, was fretting with unassuagedfury in the constraints of his prison, and the absence from that sceneof his repeated triumphs which before had never been at a loss for hispresence. 

"But come--let us mount, " said the landlord, who did not feel disposedto lose much time for a jest. "There is more than this to be done yet inthe village; and, I take it, you feel in no disposition to waste moretime to-night. Let us be off"

"So say I, but I go not back with you, Wat. I strike across the woodsinto the other road, where I have much to see to; besides going down thebranch to Dixon's Ford, and Wolf's Neck, where I must look up our menand have them ready. I shall not be in the village, therefore, untillate to-morrow night--if then. "

"What--you are for the crossroads, again, " said Munro. "I tell you what, Guy, you must have done with that girl before Lucy shall be yours. It'sbad enough--bad enough that she should be compelled to look to you forlove. It were a sad thing if the little she might expect to find were tobe divided between two or more. "

"Pshaw--you are growing Puritan because of the dark. I tell you I havedone with _her_. I can not altogether forget what she was, nor what Ihave made her; and just at this time she is in need of my assistance. Good-night! I shall see Dillon and the rest of them by morning, andprepare for the difficulty. My disguise shall be complete, and if youare wise you will see to your own. I would not think of flight, for muchmay be made out of the country, and I know of none better for ourpurposes. Good-night!"

Thus saying, the outlaw struck into the forest, and Munro, lingeringuntil he was fairly out of sight, proceeded to rifle the person ofForrester--an act which the disdainful manner and language of hiscompanion had made him hitherto forbear. The speech of Rivers on thissubject had been felt; and, taken in connection with the air ofauthority which the mental superiority of the latter had necessarilyimparted to his address, there was much in it highly offensive to theless adventurous ruffian. A few moments sufficed to effect thelightening of the woodman's purse of the earnings which had been soessential a feature in his dreams of cottage happiness; and whileengaged in this transfer, the discontent of the landlord with hiscolleague in crime, occasionally broke out into words--

"He carries himself highly, indeed; and I must stand reproved wheneverit pleases his humor. Well, I am in for it now, and there is no chanceof my getting safely out of the scrape just at this moment; but the daywill come, and, by G-d! I will have a settlement that'll go neardraining his heart of all the blood in it. "

As he spoke in bitterness he approached his horse, and flinging thebridle over his neck, was in a little while a good distance on his wayfrom the scene of blood; over which Silence now folded her wings, brooding undisturbed, as if nothing had taken place below; so little isthe sympathy which the transient and inanimate nature appears, at anytime, to exhibit, with that to the enjoyment of which it yields thebloom and odor of leaf and flower, soft zephyrs and refreshing waters. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE FATES FAVOR THE FUGITIVE. 

Let us now return to our young traveller, whose escape we have alreadynarrated. 

Utterly unconscious of the melancholy circumstance which had divertedhis enemies from the pursuit of himself, he had followed studiously theparting directions of the young maiden, to whose noble feeling andfearless courage he was indebted for his present safety; and taken thealmost _blind_ path which she had hastily described to him. On thisroute he had for some time gone, with a motion not extravagantly free, but sufficiently so, having the start, and with the several delays towhich his pursuers had been subjected, to have escaped the danger--whilethe vigor of his steed lasted--even had they fallen on the proper route. He had proceeded in this way for several miles, when, at length, he cameupon a place whence several roads diverged into opposite sections of thecountry. Ignorant of the localities, he reined in his horse, anddeliberated with himself for a few moments as to the path he shouldpursue. While thus engaged, a broad glare of flame suddenly illuminedthe woods on his left hand, followed with the shrieks, equally sudden, seemingly of a woman. 

There was no hesitation in the action of the youth. With unscrupulousand fearless precipitation, he gave his horse the necessary direction, and with a smart application of the rowel, plunged down the narrow pathtoward the spot from whence the alarm had arisen. As he approached, thelight grew more intense, and he at length discovered a littlecottage-like dwelling, completely embowered in thick foliage, throughthe crevices of which the flame proceeded, revealing the cause ofterror, and illuminating for some distance the dense woods around. Theshrieks still continued; and throwing himself from his horse, Ralphdarted forward, and with a single and sudden application of his foot, struck the door from its hinges, and entered the dwelling just in timeto save its inmates from the worst of all kinds of death. 

The apartment was in a light blaze--the drapery of a couch which stoodin one corner partially consumed, and, at the first glance, the wholeprospect afforded but little hope of a successful struggle with theconflagration. There was no time to be lost, yet the scene was enough tohave paralyzed the nerves of the most heroic action. 

On the couch thus circumstanced lay an elderly lady, seemingly in thevery last stages of disease. She seemed only at intervals conscious ofthe fire. At her side, in a situation almost as helpless as her own, wasthe young female whose screams had first awakened the attention of thetraveller. She lay moaning beside the couch, shrieking at intervals, andthough in momentary danger from the flames, which continued to increase, taking no steps for their arrest. Her only efforts were taken to raisethe old woman from the couch, and to this, the strength of the young onewas wholly unequal. Ralph went manfully to work, and had thesatisfaction of finding success in his efforts. With a fearless hand hetore down the burning drapery which curtained the windows and couch; andwhich, made of light cotton stuffs, presented a ready auxiliar to theprogress of the destructive element. Striking down the burning shutterwith a single blow, he admitted the fresh air, without which suffocationmust soon have followed, and throwing from the apartment such of thefurniture as had been seized upon by the flames, he succeeded inarresting their farther advance. 

All this was the work of a few moments. There had been no word ofintercourse between the parties, and the youth now surveyed them withlooks of curious inquiry, for the first time. The invalid, as we havesaid, was apparently struggling with the last stages of natural decay. Her companion was evidently youthful, in spite of those marks which eventhe unstudied eye might have discerned in her features, of a temper anda spirit subdued and put to rest by the world's strife and trial, and byafflictions which are not often found to crowd and to make up thehistory and being of the young. Their position was peculiarly insulated, and Ralph wondered much at the singularity of a scene to which his ownexperience could furnish no parallel. Here were two lone women--livingon the borders of a savage nation, and forming the frontier of a classof whites little less savage, without any protection, and, to his mind, without any motive for making such their abiding-place. His wonder mightpossibly have taken the shape of inquiry, but that there was somethingof oppressive reserve and shrinking timidity in the air of the youngwoman, who alone could have replied to his inquiries. At this time anold female negro entered, now for the first time alarmed by the outcry, who assisted in removing such traces of the fire as still remained aboutthe room. She seemed to occupy a neighboring outhouse; to which, havingdone what seemed absolutely necessary, she immediately retired. 

Colleton, with a sentiment of the deepest commiseration, proceeded toreinstate things as they might have been before the conflagration, andhaving done so, and having soothed, as far as he well might, the excitedapprehensions of the young girl, who made her acknowledgments in a notunbecoming style, he ventured to ask a few questions as to the conditionof the old lady and of herself; but, finding from the answers that thesubject was not an agreeable one, and having no pretence for furtherdelay, he prepared to depart. He inquired, however, his proper route tothe Chestatee river, and thus obtained a solution of the difficultywhich beset him in the choice of roads at the fork. 

While thus employed, however, and just at the conclusion of his labors, there came another personage upon the scene, to whom it is necessarythat we should direct our attention. 

It will be remembered that Rivers and Munro, after the murder ofForrester, had separated--the latter on his return to the village--theother in a direction which seemed to occasion some littledissatisfaction in the mind of his companion. After thus separating, Rivers, to whom the whole country was familiar, taking a shorter routeacross the forest, by which the sinuosities of the main road weregenerally avoided, entered, after the progress of a few miles, into thevery path pursued by Colleton, and which, had it been chosen by hispursuers in the first instance, might have entirely changed the resultof the pursuit. In taking this course it was not the thought of theoutlaw to overtake the individual whose blood he so much desired; but, with an object which will have its development as we continue, he cameto the cottage at the very time when, having succeeded in overcoming theflames, Ralph was employed in a task almost as difficult--that ofreassuring the affrighted inmates, and soothing them against theapprehension of farther danger. 

With a caution which old custom had made almost natural in such cases, Rivers, as he approached the cross-roads, concealed his horse in thecover of the woods, advanced noiselessly, and with not a littlesurprise, to the cottage, whose externals had undergone no littlealteration from the loss of the shutter, the blackened marks, visibleenough in the moonlight, around the window-frame, and the general lookof confusion which hung about it. A second glance made out the steed ofour traveller, which he approached and examined. The survey awakened allthose emotions which operated upon his spirit when referring to hissuccessful rival; and, approaching the cottage with extreme caution, hetook post for a while at one of the windows, the shutter of which, partially unclosed, enabled him to take in at a glance the entireapartment. 

He saw, at once, the occasion which had induced the presence, in thissituation, of his most hateful enemy; and the thoughts were strangelydiscordant which thronged and possessed his bosom. At one moment he haddrawn his pistol to his eye--his finger rested upon the trigger, and thedoubt which interposed between the youth and eternity, though itsufficed for his safety then, was of the most slight and shadowydescription. A second time did the mood of murder savagely possess hissoul, and the weapon's muzzle fell pointblank upon the devoted bosom ofRalph; when the slight figure of the young woman passing between, againarrested the design of the outlaw, who, with muttered curses, uncocking, returned the weapon to his belt. 

Whatever might have been the relationship between himself and thesefemales, there was an evident reluctance on the part of Rivers toexhibit his ferocious hatred of the youth before those to whom he hadjust rendered a great and unquestioned service; and, though untroubledby any feeling of gratitude on their behalf, or on his own, he was yetunwilling, believing, as he did, that his victim was now perfectlysecure, that they should undergo any further shock, at a moment too ofsuch severe suffering and trial as must follow in the case of theyounger, from those fatal pangs which were destroying the other. 

Ralph now prepared to depart; and taking leave of the young woman, whoalone seemed conscious of his services, and warmly acknowledged them, heproceeded to the door. Rivers, who had watched his motions attentively, and heard the directions given him by the girl for his progress, at thesame moment left the window, and placed himself under the shelter of ahuge tree, at a little distance on the path which his enemy was directedto pursue. Here he waited like the tiger, ready to take the fatal leap, and plunge his fangs into the bosom of his victim. Nor did he wait long. 

Ralph was soon upon his steed, and on the road; but the Providence thatwatches over and protects the innocent was with him, and it happened, most fortunately, that just before he reached the point at which hisenemy stood in watch, the badness of the road had compelled those whotravelled it to diverge aside for a few paces into a little by-path, which, at a little distance beyond, and when the bad places had beenrounded, brought the traveller again into the proper path. Into thisby-path, the horse of Colleton took his way; the rider neither saw theembarrassments of the common path, nor that his steed had turned asidefrom them. It was simply providential that the instincts of the horsewere more heedful than the eyes of the horseman. 

It was just a few paces ahead, and on the edge of a boggy hollow thatGuy Rivers had planted himself in waiting. The tread of the youngtraveller's steed, diverging from the route which he watched, taught theoutlaw the change which it was required that he should also make in hisposition. 

"Curse him!" he muttered. "Shall there be always something in the way ofmy revenge?"

Such was his temper, that everything which baffled him in his objectheightened his ferocity to a sort of madness. But this did not preventhis prompt exertion to retrieve the lost ground. The "turn-out" did notcontinue fifty yards, before it again wound into the common road, andremembering this, the outlaw hurried across the little copse whichseparated the two routes for a space. The slow gait at which Colletonnow rode, unsuspicious of danger, enabled his enemy to gain the positionwhich he sought, close crouching on the edge of the thicket, just wherethe roads again united. Here he waited--not many seconds. 

The pace of our traveller, we have said, was slow. We may add that hismood was also inattentive. He was not only unapprehensive of presentdanger, but his thoughts were naturally yielded to the condition of thetwo poor women, in that lonely abode of forest, whom he had justrescued, in all probability, from a fearful death. Happy with thepleasant consciousness of a good action well performed, and with spiritsnaturally rising into animation, freed as they were from a late heavysense of danger--he was as completely at the mercy of the outlaw whoawaited him, pistol in hand, as if he lay, as his poor friend, Forrester, so recently had done, directly beneath his knife. 

And so thought Rivers, who heard the approaching footsteps, and nowcaught a glimpse of his approaching shadow. 

The outlaw deliberately lifted his pistol. It was already cocked. Hisform was sheltered by a huge tree, and as man and horse gradually drewnigh, the breathing of the assassin seemed almost suspended in hisferocious anxiety for blood. 

The dark shadow moved slowly along the path. The head of the horse isbeside the outlaw. In a moment the rider will occupy the same spot--andthen! The finger of the outlaw is upon the trigger--the deadly aim istaken!--what arrests the deed? Ah! surely there is a Providence--aspecial arm to save--to interpose between the criminal and hisvictim--to stay the wilful hands of the murderer, when the deed seemsalready done, as it has been already determined upon. 

Even in that moment, when but a touch is necessary to destroy theunconscious traveller--a sudden rush is heard above the robber. Greatwings sweep away, with sudden clatter, and the dismal hootings of anowl, scared from his perch on a low shrub-tree, startles thecold-blooded murderer from his propriety. With the nervous excitement ofhis mind, and his whole nature keenly interested in the deed, to breaksuddenly the awful silence, the brooding hush of the forest, withunexpected sounds, and those so near, and so startling--for once theoutlaw ceased to be the master of his own powers!

The noise of the bird scared the steed. He dashed headlong forward, andsaved the life of his rider!

Yet Ralph Colleton never dreamed of his danger--never once conjecturedhow special was his obligations to the interposing hand of Providence!And so, daily, with the best of us--and the least fortunate. How few ofus ever dream of the narrow escapes we make, at moments when a breathmight kill us, when the pressure of a "bare bodkin" is all that isnecessary to send us to sudden judgment!

And the outlaw was again defeated. He had not, perhaps, been scared. Hehad only been surprised--been confounded. In the first cry of the bird, the first rush of his wings, flapping through the trees, it seemed as ifthey had swept across his eyes. He lowered the pistol involuntarily--heforgot to pull the trigger, and when he recovered himself, steed andrider had gone beyond his reach. 

"Is there a devil, " he involuntarily murmured, "that stands between meand my victim? am I to be baffled always? Is there, indeed, a God?"

He paused in stupor and vexation. He could hear the distant tramp of thehorse, sinking faintly out of hearing. 

"That I, who have lived in the woods all my life, should have beenstartled by an owl, and at such a moment!"

Cursing the youth's good fortune, not less than his own weakness, thefierce disappointment of Guy Rivers was such that he fairly gnashed histeeth with vexation. At first, he thought to dash after his victim, buthis own steed had been fastened near the cottage, several hundred yardsdistant, and he was winded too much for a further pursuit that night. 

Colleton was, meanwhile, a mile ahead, going forward swimmingly, neveronce dreaming of danger. He was thus far safe. So frequently andcompletely had his enemy been baffled in the brief progress of a singlenight, that he was almost led to believe--for, like most criminals, hewas not without his superstition--that his foe was under some specialguardianship. With ill-concealed anger, and a stern impatience, heturned. 

CHAPTER XXV. 

SUBDUED AGONIES. 

The entrance of Guy Rivers awakened no emotion among the inmates of thedwelling; indeed, at the moment, it was almost unperceived. The youngwoman happened to be in close attendance upon her parent, for such theinvalid was, and did not observe his approach, while he stood at somelittle distance from the couch, surveying the scene. The old lady wasendeavoring, though with a feebleness that grew more apparent with everybreath, to articulate something, to which she seemed to attach muchimportance, in the ears of the kneeling girl, who, with breathlessattention, seemed desirous of making it out, but in vain; and, signifying by her countenance the disappointment which she felt, thespeaker, with something like anger, shook her skinny finger feebly inher face, and the broken and incoherent words, with rapid effort butlike success, endeavored to find their way through the half-closedaperture between her teeth. The tears fell fast and full from the eyesof the kneeling girl, who neither sobbed nor spoke, but, with continuedand yet despairing attention, endeavored earnestly to catch the fewwords of one who was on the eve of departure, and the words of whom, atsuch a moment, almost invariably acquire a value never attached to thembefore: as the sounds of a harp, when the chords are breaking, are saidto articulate a sweet sorrow, as if in mourning for their own fate. 

The outlaw, all this while, stood apart and in silence. Although perhapsbut little impressed with the native solemnity of the scene before him, he was not so ignorant of what was due to humanity, and not so unfeelingin reference to the parties here interested, as to seek to disturb itsprogress or propriety with tone, look, or gesture, which might makeeither of them regret his presence. Becoming impatient, however, of acolloquy which, as he saw that it had not its use, and was onlyproductive of mortification to one of the parties, he thought onlyprudent to terminate, he advanced toward them; and his tread, for thefirst time, warned them of his presence. 

With an effort which seemed supernatural, the dying woman raised herselfwith a sudden start in the bed, and her eyes glared upon him with athreatening horror, and her lips parting, disclosed the broken anddecayed teeth beneath, ineffectually gnashing, while her long, skinnyfingers warned him away. All this time she appeared to speak, but thewords were unarticulated, though, from the expression of every feature, it was evident that indignation and reproach made up the entire amountof everything she had to express. The outlaw was not easily influencedby anger so impotent as this; and, from his manner of receiving it, itappeared that he had been for some time accustomed to a reception of alike kind from the same person. He approached the young girl, who hadnow risen from her knees, and spoke to her in words of comparativekindness:--

"Well, Ellen, you have had an alarm, but I am glad to see you havesuffered no injury. How happened the fire?"

The young woman explained the cause of the conflagration, and narratedin brief the assistance which had been received from the stranger. 

"But I was so terrified, Guy, " she added, "that I had not presence ofmind enough to thank him. "

"And what should be the value of your spoken thanks, Ellen? Thestranger, if he have sense, must feel that he has them, and theutterance of such things had better be let alone. But, how is the oldlady now? I see she loves me no better than formerly. "

"She is sinking fast, Guy, and is now incapable of speech. Before youcame, she seemed desirous of saying something to me, but she tried invain to speak, and now I scarcely think her conscious. "

"Believe it not, Ellen: she is conscious of all that is going on, thoughher voice may fail her. Her eye is even now fixed upon me, and with theold expression. She would tear me if she could. "

"Oh, think not thus of the dying, Guy--of her who has never harmed, andwould never harm you, if she had the power. And yet, Heaven knows, andwe both know, she has had reason enough to hate, and, if she could, todestroy you. But she has no such feeling now. "

"You mistake, Ellen, or would keep the truth from me. You know she hasalways hated me; and, indeed, as you say, she has had cause enough tohate and destroy me. Had another done to me as I have done to her, Ishould not have slept till my hand was in his heart. "

"She forgives you all, Guy, I know she does, and God knows I forgiveyou--I, who, above all others, have most reason to curse you for ever. Think not that she can hate upon the brink of the grave. Her mindwanders, and no wonder that the wrongs of earth press upon her memory, her reason being gone. She knows not herself of the mood which herfeatures express. Look not upon her, Guy, I pray you, or let me turnaway my eyes. "

"Your spirit, Ellen, is more gentle and shrinking than hers. Had youfelt like her, I verily believe that many a night, when I have been atrest within your arms, you would have driven a knife into my heart. "

"Horrible, Guy! how can you imagine such a thing? Base and worthless asyou have made me, I am too much in your power, I fear--I love you stilltoo much; and, though like a poison or a firebrand you have clung to mybosom, I could not have felt for you a single thought of resentment. Yousay well when you call me shrinking. I am a creature of a thousandfears; I am all weakness and worthlessness. "

"Well, well--let us not talk further of this. When was the doctor herelast?"

"In the evening he came, and left some directions, but told us plainlywhat we had to expect. He said she could not survive longer than thenight; and she looks like it, for within the last few hours she has sunksurprisingly. But have you brought the medicine?"

"I have, and some drops which are said to stimulate and strengthen. "

"I fear they are now of little use, and may only serve to keep up lifein misery. But they may enable her to speak, and I should like to hearwhat she seems so desirous to impart. "

Ellen took the cordial, and hastily preparing a portion in a wine-glass, according to the directions, proceeded to administer it to the gaspingpatient; but, while the glass was at her lips, the last paroxysm ofdeath came on, and with it something more of that consciousness nowfleeting for ever. Dashing aside the nostrum with one hand, with theother she drew the shrinking and half-fainting girl to her side, and, pressing her down beside her, appeared to give utterance to that which, from the action, and the few and audible words she made out toarticulate, would seem to have been a benediction. 

Rivers, seeing the motion, and remarking the almost supernaturalstrength with which the last spasms had endued her, would have taken thegirl from her embrace; but his design was anticipated by the dyingwoman, whose eyes glared upon him with an expression rather demoniacthan human, while her paralytic hand, shaking with ineffectual effort, waved him off. A broken word escaped her lips here and there, and--"sin"--"forgiveness"--was all that reached the ears of hergrandchild, when her head sank back upon the pillow, and she expiredwithout a groan. 

A dead silence followed this event. The girl had no uttered anguish--shespoke not her sorrows aloud; yet there was that in the wobegonecountenance, and the dumb grief, that left no doubt of the deep thoughsuppressed and half-subdued agony of soul within. She seemed one to whomthe worst of life had been long since familiar, and who would not findit difficult herself to die. She had certainly outlived pride and hope, if not love; and if the latter feeling had its place in her bosom, aswithout doubt it had, then was it a hopeless lingerer, long after thesunshine and zephyr had gone which first awakened it into bloom andflower. She knelt beside the inanimate form of her old parent, sheddingno tear, and uttering no sigh. Tears would have poorly expressed the wowhich at that moment she felt; and the outlaw, growing impatient of thedumb spectacle, now ventured to approach and interrupt her. She rose, meekly and without reluctance, as he spoke; with a manner which said asplainly as words could have, said--'Command, and I obey. Bid me go evennow, at midnight, on a perilous journey, over and into foreign lands, and I go without murmur or repining. ' She was a heart-stricken, aheart-broken, and abused woman--and yet she loved still, and loved herdestroyer. 

"Ellen, " said he, taking her hand, "your mother was a Christian--astrict worshipper--one who, for the last few years of her life, seldomput the Bible out of her hands; and yet she cursed me in her very soulas she went out of the world. "

"Guy, Guy, speak not so, I pray you. Spare me this cruelty, and say notfor the departed spirit what it surely never would have said of itself. "

"But it did so say, Ellen, and of this I am satisfied. Hear me, girl. Iknow something of mankind, and womankind too, and I am not oftenmistaken in the expression of human faces, and certainly was notmistaken in hers. When, in the last paroxysm, you knelt beside her withyour head down upon her hand and in her grasp, and as I approached her, her eyes, which feebly threw up the film then rapidly closing over them, shot out a most angry glare of hatred and reproof; while her lipsparted--I could see, though she could articulate no word--withinvolutions which indicated the curse that she could not speak. "

"Think not so, I pray you. She had much cause to curse, and often wouldshe have done so, but for my sake she did not. She would call me a poorfool, that so loved the one who had brought misery and shame to all ofus; but her malediction was arrested, and she said it not. Oh, no! sheforgave you--I know she did--heard you not the words which she utteredat the last?"

"Yes, yes--but no matter. We must now talk of other things, Ellen; andfirst of all, you must know, then, I am about to be married. "

Had a bolt from the crossbow at that moment penetrated into her heart, the person he addressed could not have been more transfixed than at thisspeech. She started--an inquiring and tearful doubt rose into her eyes, as they settled piercingly upon his own; but the information they metwith there needed no further word of assurance from his lips. He was astern tyrant--one, however, who did not trifle. 

"I feared as much, Guy--I have had thoughts which as good as told methis long before. The silent form before me has said to me, over andover again, you would never wed her whom you have dishonored. Oh, foolthat I was!--spite of her forebodings and my own, I thought--I stillthink, and oh, Guy, let me not think in vain--that there would be a timewhen you would take away the reproach from my name and the sin from mysoul, by making me your wife, as you have so often promised. "

"You have indeed thought like a child, Ellen, if you suppose that, situated as I am, I could ever marry simply because I loved. "

"And will you not love her whom you are now about to wed?"

"Not as much as I have loved you--not half so much as I love you now--ifit be that I have such a feeling at this moment in my bosom. "

"And wherefore then would you wed, Guy, with one whom you do not, whomyou can not love? In what have I offended--have I ever reproached orlooked unkindly on you, Guy, even when you came to me, stern and full ofreproaches, chafed with all things and with everybody?"

"There are motives, Ellen, governing my actions into which you must notinquire--"

"What, not inquire, when on these actions depend all my hope--all mylife! Now indeed you are the tyrant which my old mother said, and allpeople say, you are. "

The girl for a moment forgot her submissiveness, and her words weretremulous, less with sorrow than the somewhat strange spirit which herwrongs had impressed upon her. But sue soon felt the sinking of themomentary inspiration, and quickly sought to remove the angry scowlwhich she perceived coming over the brow of her companion. 

"Nay, nay--forgive me, Guy--let me not reproach--let me not accuse you. I have not done so before: I would not do so now. Do with me as youplease; and yet, if you are bent to wed with another, and forget andoverlook your wrongs to me, there is one kindness which would becomeyour hands, and which I would joy to receive from them. Will you do forme this kindness, Guy? Nay, now be not harsh, but say that you will doit. "

She seized his hand appealingly as she spoke, and her moist butuntearful eyes were fixed pleadingly upon his own. The outlaw hesitatedfor a moment before he replied. 

"I propose, Ellen, to do for you all that may be necessary--to provideyou with additional comforts, and carry you to a place of additionalsecurity, where you shall live to yourself, and have good attendance. "

"This is kind--this is much, Guy; but not much more than you have beenaccustomed to do for me. That which I seek from you now is somethingmore than this; promise me that it shall be as I say. "

"If it breaks not into my arrangements--if it makes me not go aside frommy path, I will certainly do it, Ellen. Speak, therefore; what is it Ican do for you?"

"It will interfere with none of your arrangements, Guy, I am sure; itcan not take you from your path, for you could not have provided forthat of which you knew not. I have your pledge, therefore--have I not?"

"You have, " was the reply, while the manner of Rivers was tinctured withsomething like curiosity. 

"That is kind--that is as you ought to be. Hear me now, then, " and hervoice sunk into a whisper, as if she feared the utterance of her ownwords; "take your knife, Guy--pause not, do it quickly, lest I fear andtremble--strike it deep into the bosom of the poor Ellen, and lay herbeside the cold parent, whose counsels she despised, and all of whosepredictions are now come true. Strike--strike quickly, Guy Rivers; Ihave your promise--you can not recede; if you have honor, if you havetruth, you must do as I ask. Give me death--give me peace. "

"Foolish girl, would you trifle with me--would you have me spurn andhate you? Beware!"

The outlaw well knew the yielding and sensitive material out of whichhis victim had been made. His stern rebuke was well calculated to effectin her bosom that revulsion of feeling which he knew would follow anythreat of a withdrawal, even of the lingering and frail fibres of thataffection, few and feeble as they were, which he might have oncepersuaded her to believe had bound him to her. The consequence wasimmediate, and her subdued tone and resigned action evinced the nowentire supremacy of her natural temperament. 

"Oh, forgive me, Guy, I know not what I ask or what I do. I am so wornand weary, and my head is so heavy, that I think it were far better if Iwere in my grave with the cold frame whom we shall soon put there. Heednot what I say--I am sad and sick, and have not the spirit of reason, ora healthy will to direct me. Do with me as you will--I will obey you--goanywhere, and, worst of all, behold you wed another; ay, stand by, ifyou desire it, and look on the ceremony, and try to forget that you oncepromised me that I should be yours, and yours only. "

"You speak more wisely, Ellen; and you will think more calmly upon itwhen the present grief of your grandmother's death passes off. "

"Oh, that is no grief, now, Guy, " was the rather hasty reply. "That isno grief now: should I regret that she has escaped these tidings--shouldI regret that she has ceased to feel trouble, and to see and shedtears--should I mourn, Guy, that she who loved me to the last, in spiteof my follies and vices, has ceased now to mourn over them? Oh, no! thisis no grief, now; it was grief but a little while ago, but now you havemade it matter of rejoicing. "

"Think not of it, --speak no more in this strain, Ellen, lest you angerme. "

"I will not--chide me not--I have no farther reproaches. Yet, Guy, isshe, the lady you are about to wed--is she beautiful, is she young--hasshe long raven tresses, as I had once, when your fingers used to play inthem?" and with a sickly smile, which had in it something of an oldvanity, she unbound the string which confined her own hair, and let itroll down upon her back in thick and beautiful volumes, still black, glossy and delicately soft as silk. 

The outlaw was moved. For a moment his iron muscles relaxed--a gentlerexpression overspread his countenance, and he took her in his arms. Thatsingle, half-reluctant embrace was a boon not much bestowed in thelatter days of his victim, and it awakened a thousand tenderrecollections in her heart, and unsealed a warm spring of gushingwaters. An infantile smile was in her eyes, while the tears were flowingdown her cheeks. 

But, shrinking or yielding, at least to any great extent, made up verylittle of the character of the dark man on whom she depended; and themore than feminine weakness of the young girl who hung upon his bosomlike a dying flower, received its rebuke, after a few moments ofunwonted tenderness, when, coldly resuming his stern habit, he put herfrom his arms, and announced to her his intention of immediately takinghis departure. 

"What, " she asked, "will you not stay with me through the night, andsituated as I am?"

"It is impossible; even now I am waited for, and should have been somehours on my way to an appointment which I must not break. It is not withme as with you; I have obligations to others who depend on me, and whomight suffer injury were I to deceive them. "

"But this night, Guy--there is little of it left, and I am sure you willnot be expected before the daylight. I feel a new terror when I think Ishall be left by all, and here, too, alone with the dead. "

"You will not be alone, and if you were, Ellen, you have been thuslonely for many months past, and should be now accustomed to it. "

"Why, so I should, for it has been a fearful and a weary time, and Iwent not to my bed one night without dreading that I should never beholdanother day. "

"Why, what had you to alarm you? you suffered no affright--no injury? Ihad taken care that throughout the forest your cottage should berespected. "

"So I had your assurance, and when I thought, I believed it. I knew youhad the power to do as you assured me you would, but still there weremoments when our own desolation came across my mind; and what with mysorrows and my fears, I was sometimes persuaded, in my madness, to praythat I might be relieved of them, were it even by the hands of death. "

"You were ever thus foolish, Ellen, and you have as little reason now toapprehend as then. Besides, it is only for the one night, and in themorning I shall send those to you who will attend to your own removal toanother spot, and to the interment of the body. "

"And where am I to go?"

"What matters it where, Ellen? You have my assurance that it shall be aplace of security and good attendance to which I shall send you. "

"True, what matters it where I go--whether among the savage or thecivilized? They are to me all alike, since I may not look them in theface, or take them by the hand, or hold communion with them, either atthe house of God or at the family fireside. "

The gloomy despondence of her spirit was uppermost; and she went on, ina series of bitter musings, denouncing herself as an outcast, aworthless something, and, in the language of the sacred text, calling onthe rocks and mountains to cover her. The outlaw, who had none of thosefine feelings which permitted of even momentary sympathy with thatdesolation of heart, the sublime agonies of which are so well calculatedto enlist and awaken it, cut short the strain of sorrow and complaint bya fierce exclamation, which seemed to stun every sense of her spirit. 

"Will you never have done?" he demanded. "Am I for ever to listen tothis weakness--this unavailing reproach of yourself and everythingaround you? Do I not know that all your complaints and reproaches, though you address them in so many words to yourself, are intended onlyfor my use and ear? Can I not see through the poor hypocrisy of such alamentation? Know I not that when you curse and deplore the sin you onlywithhold the malediction from him who tempted and partook of it, in thehope that his own spirit will apply it all to himself? Away, girl; Ithought you had a nobler spirit--I thought you felt the love that I nowfind existed only in expression. "

"I do feel that love; I would, Guy that I felt it not--that it did existonly in my words. I were then far happier than I am now, since sternlook or language from you would then utterly fail to vex and wound as itdoes now. I can not bear your reproaches; look not thus upon me, andspeak not in those harsh sentences--not now--not now, at least, and inthis melancholy presence. "

Her looks turned upon the dead body of her parent as she spoke, and withconvulsive effort she rushed toward and clasped it round. She threwherself beside the corpse and remained inanimate, while the outlaw, leaving the house for an instant, called the negro servant and commandedher attendance. He now approached the girl, and taking up her hand, which lay supine upon the bosom of the dead body, would have soothed hergrief; but though she did not repulse, she yet did not regard him. 

"Be calm, Ellen, " he said, "recover and be firm. In the morning youshall have early and good attention, and with this object, in part, am Idisposed to hurry now. Think not, girl, that I forget you. Whatever maybe my fortune, I shall always have an eye to yours. I leave you now, butshall see you before long, when I shall settle you permanently andcomfortably. Farewell. "

He left her in seeming unconsciousness of the words whispered in herears, yet she heard them all, and duly estimated their value. To her, towhom he had once pledged himself entirely, the cold boon of hisattention and sometime care was painfully mortifying. She exhibitednothing, however, beyond what we have already seen, of the effect ofthis consolation upon her heart. There is a period in human emotions, when feeling itself becomes imperceptible--when the heart (as it were)receives the _coup de grace_, and days, and months, and years, beforethe body expires, shows nothing of the fire which is consuming it. 

We would not have it understood to be altogether the case with the youngdestitute before us; but, at least, if she still continued to feel thesestill-occurring influences, there was little or no outward indication oftheir power upon the hidden spirit. She said nothing to him on hisdeparture, but with a half-wandering sense, that may perhaps havedescribed something of the ruling passion of an earlier day, she roseshortly after he had left the house, and placing herself before thesmall mirror which surmounted the toilet in the apartment, rearrangedwith studious care, and with an eye to its most attractive appearance, the long and flowing tresses of that hair, which, as we have alreadyremarked, was of the most silky and raven-like description. Everyringlet was adjusted to its place, as if nothing of sorrow was abouther--none of the badges and evidences of death and decay in her thought. She next proceeded to the readjustment of the dress she wore, takingcare that a string of pearl, probably the gift of her now indifferentlover, should leave its place in the little cabinet, where, with othertrinkets of the kind, it had been locked up carefully for a long season, and once more adorned with it the neck which it failed utterly tosurpass in delicacy or in whiteness. Having done this, she again tookher place on the couch, along with the corpse; and with a manner whichdid not appear to indicate a doubt of the still lingering spirit, sheraised the lifeless head, with the gentlest effort placing her armbeneath, then laid her own quietly on the pillow beside it. 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

THE CAMP. 

Ignorant, as we have already said, of his late most providential escapefrom the weapon of his implacable enemy, Ralph Colleton was borneforward by his affrighted steed with a degree of rapidity which entirelyprevented his rider from remarking any of the objects around him, or, indeed, as the moon began to wane amid a clustering body of clouds, ofdetermining positively whether he were still in the road or not. The_trace_ (as public roads are called in that region) had been rudely cutout by some of the earlier travellers through the Indian country, merely_traced_ out--and hence, perhaps, the term--by a _blaze_, or white spot, made upon the trees by hewing from them the bark; which badge, repeatedin succession upon those growing immediately upon the line chosen forthe destined road, indicated its route to the wayfarer. It had neverbeen much travelled, and from the free use at the present time of otherand more direct courses, it was left almost totally unemployed, save bythose living immediately in its neighborhood. It had, therefore, become, at the time of which we speak, what, in backwood phrase, is known as a_blind-path_. 

Such being the case, it is not difficult to imagine that, when able torestrain his horse, Ralph, as he feared, found himself entirely out ofits guidance--wandering without direction among the old trees of theforest. Still, as for the night, now nearly over, he could have nodistinct point in view, and saw just as little reason to go back asforward, he gave himself but little time for scruple or hesitation. Resolutely, though with a cautious motion, he pricked his steed forwardthrough the woods, accommodating his philosophy, as well as he could, tothe various interruptions which the future, as if to rival the past, seemed to have treasured up in store for him. 

He had not proceeded far in this manner when he caught the dim rays of adistant fire, flickering and ascending among the trees to the left ofthe direction he was taking. The blaze had something in it excessivelycheering, and, changing his course, he went forward under its guidance. In this effort, he stumbled upon something like a path, which, pursuing, brought him at length to a small and turbid creek, into which he plungedfearlessly, and soon found himself in swimming water. The ford had beenlittle used, and the banks were steep, so that he got out withdifficulty upon the opposite side. Having done so, his eye was enabledto take a full view of the friendly fire which had just attracted hisregard, and which he soon made out to proceed from the encampment of awagoner, such as may be seen every day, or every night, in the wildwoods of the southern country. 

He was emigrating, with all his goods and gods, to that wonderfullywinning region, in the estimation of this people, the valley of theMississippi. The emigrant was a stout, burly, bluff old fellow, withfull round cheeks, a quick, twinkling eye, and limbs rather Herculeanthan human. He might have been fifty-five years or so; and his two sons, one of them a man grown, the other a tall and goodly youth of eighteen, promised well to be just such vigorous and healthy-looking personages astheir father. The old woman, by whom we mean--in the manner of speechcommon to the same class and region--to indicate the spouse of thewayfarer, and mother of the two youths, was busied about the fire, boiling a pot of coffee, and preparing the family repast for the night. A somewhat late hour for supper and such employment, thought ourwanderer; but the difficulty soon explained itself in the condition oftheir wagon, and the conversation which ensued among the travellers. There was yet another personage in the assembly, who must be left tointroduce himself to the reader. 

The _force_ of the traveller--for such is the term by which the numberof his slaves are understood--was small, consisting of some six_workers_, and three or four little negro children asleep under thewagon. The workers were occupied at a little distance, in replacingboxes, beds, and some household trumpery, which had been taken out ofthe wagon, to enable them to effect its release from the slough in whichit had cast one of its wheels, and broken its axle, and the restorationof which had made their supper so late in the night. The heavierdifficulties of their labor had been got over, and with limbs warmed andchafed by the extra exercise they had undergone, the whites had thrownthemselves under a tree, at a little distance from the fire at which thesupper was in preparation, while a few pine torches, thrown together, gave them sufficient light to read and remark the several countenancesof their group. 

"Well, by dogs, we've had a tough 'bout of it, boys; and, hark'ye, strannger, gi' us your hand. I don't know what we should have donewithout you, for I never seed man handle a little poleaxe as you didthat same affair of your'n. You must have spent, I reckon, a prettysmart time at the use of it, now, didn't ye?"

To this speech of the farmer, a ready reply was given by the stranger, in the identical voice and language of our old acquaintance, the pedler, Jared Bunce, of whom, and of whose stock in trade, the reader willprobably have some recollection. 

"Well, now, I guess, friend, you an't far wide of your reckoning. I'vebeen a matter of some fifteen or twenty years knocking about, off andon, in one way or another, with this same instrument, and pretty's theservice now, I tell ye, that it's done me in that bit of time. "

"No doubt, no doubt; but what's your trade, if I may be so bold, thatmade you larn the use of it so nicely?"

"Oh, what--my trade? Why, to say the truth, I never was brought up toany trade in particular, but I am a pretty slick hand, now, I tell you, at all of them. I've been in my time a little of a farmer, a little of amerchant, a little of a sailor, and, somehow or other, a little ofeverything, and all sort of things. My father was jest like myself, andswore, before I was born, that I should be born jest like him--and so Iwas. Never were two black peas more alike. He was a 'cute old fellow, and swore he'd make me so too--and so he did. You know how he didthat?--now, I'll go a York shilling against a Louisiana bit, that youcan't tell to save you. "

"Why, no, I can't--let's hear, " was the response of the wagoner, somewhat astounded by the volubility of his new acquaintance. 

"Well, then, I'll tell you. He sent me away, to make my fortin, and gitmy edication, 'mongst them who was 'cute themselves, and maybe that an'tthe best school for larning a simple boy ever went to. It was sharp edgeagin sharp edge. It was the very making of me, so far as I was made. "

"Well, now, that is a smart way, I should reckon, to get one'sedication. And in this way I suppose you larned how to chop with yourlittle poleaxe. Dogs! but you've made me as smart a looking axle as Iever tacked to my team. "

"I tell you, friend, there's nothing like sich an edication. It doeseverything for a man, and he larns to make everything out of nothing. Icould make my bread where these same Indians wouldn't find the skin of ahoe-cake; and in these woods, or in the middle of the sea, t'antanything for me to say I can always fish up some notion that will sellin the market. "

"Well, now, that's wonderful, strannger, and I should like to see howyou would do it. "

"You can't do nothing, no how, friend, unless you begin at thebeginning. You'll have to begin when you're jest a mere boy, and setabout getting your edication as I got mine. There's no two ways aboutit. It won't come to you; you must go to it. When you're put out intothe wide world, and have no company and no acquaintance, why, what areyou to do? Suppose, now, when your wagon mired down, I had not come toyour help, and cut out your wood, and put in the spoke, wouldn't youhave had to do it yourself?"

"Yes--to be sure; but then I couldn't have done it in a day. I an'thandy at these things. "

"Well, that was jest the way with me when I was a boy. I had nobody tohelp me out of the mud--nobody to splice my spokes, or assist me anyhow, and so I larned to do it myself. And now, would you think it, I'msometimes glad of a little turn-over, or an accident, jest that I maykeep my hand in and not forget to be able to help myself or myneighbors. "

"Well, you're a cur'ous person, and I'd like to hear something moreabout you. But it's high time we should wet our whistles, and it's butdry talking without something to wash a clear way for the slack. So, boys, be up, and fish up the jemmi-john--I hope it hain't been thumpedto bits in the rut. If it has, I shall be in a tearing passion. "

"Well, now, that won't be reasonable, seeing that it's no use, and jestwasting good breath that might bring a fair price in the market. "

"What, not get in a passion if all the whiskey's gone? That won't do, strannger, and though you have helped me out of the ditch, by, dogs, noman shall prevent me from getting in a passion if I choose it. "

"Oh, to be sure, friend--you an't up to my idee. I didn't know that itwas for the good it did you that you got in a passion. I am clear thatwhen a man feels himself better from a passion, he oughtn't to be shy ingetting into it. Though that wasn't a part of my edication, yet I guess, if such a thing would make me feel more comfortable, I'd get in apassion fifty times a day. "

"Well, now, strannger, you talk like a man of sense. 'Drot the man, saysI, who hain't the courage to get in a passion! None but a miserable, shadow-skinning Yankee would refuse to get in a passion when his jug ofwhiskey was left in the road!"

"A-hem--" coughed the dealer in small wares--the speech of the oldwagoner grating harshly upon his senses; for if the Yankee be proud ofanything, it is of his country--its enterprise, its institutions; and ofthese, perhaps, he has more true and unqualified reason to be pleasedand proud than any other one people on the face of the globe. He did notrelish well the sitting quietly under the harsh censure of hiscompanion, who seemed to regard the existence of a genuine emotion amongthe people down east as a manifest absurdity; and was thinking to comeout with a defence, in detail, of the pretensions of New England, when, prudence having first taken a survey of the huge limbs of the wagoner, and calling to mind the fierce prejudices of the uneducated southronsgenerally against all his tribe, suggested the convenient propriety ofan evasive reply. 

"A-hem--" repeated the Yankee, the _argumentum ad hominem_ stillprominent in his eyes--"well, now, I take it, friend, there's no love tospare for the people you speak of down in these parts. They don't seemto smell at all pleasant in this country. "

"No, I guess not, strannger, as how should they--a mean, tricky, catchpenny, skulking set--that makes money out of everybody, and hain'tthe spirit to spend it! I do hate them, now, worse than a polecat!"

"Well, now, friend, that's strange. If you were to travel for a spell, down about Boston or Salem in Massachusetts, or at Meriden inConnecticut, you'd hear tell of the Yankees quite different. If youbelieve what the people say thereabouts, you'd think there was no sichpeople on the face of the airth. "

"That's jist because they don't know anything about them; and it's notbecause they can't know them neither, for a Yankee is a varmint you cannose anywhere. It must be that none ever travels in those parts--sellingtheir tin-kettles, and their wooden clocks, and all their notions. "

"Oh, yes, they do. They make 'em in those parts. I know it by this samereason, that I bought a lot myself from a house in Connecticut, a towncalled Meriden, where they make almost nothing else but clocks--wherethey make 'em by steam, and horse-power, and machinery, and will turnyou out a hundred or two to a minute. "

The pedler had somewhat "overleaped his shoulders, " as they phrase it inthe West, when his companion drew himself back over the blazing embers, with a look of ill-concealed aversion, exclaiming, as he did so--

"Why, you ain't a Yankee, air you?"

The pedler was a special pleader in one sense of the word, and knew thevalue of a technical distinction as well as his friend, Lawyer Pippin. His reply was prompt and professional:--

"Why, no, I ain't a Yankee according to your idee. It's true, I was bornamong them; but that, you know, don't make a man one on them?"

"No, to be sure not. Every man that's a freeman has a right to choosewhat country he shall belong to. My dad was born in Ireland, yet healways counted himself a full-blooded American. "

The old man found a parallel in his father's nativity, which satisfiedhimself of the legitimacy of the ground taken by the pedler, and helpedthe latter out of his difficulty. 

"But here's the whiskey standing by us all the time, waiting patientlyto be drunk. Here, Nick Snell, boy, take your hands out of yourbreeches-pocket, and run down with the calabash to the branch. The wateris pretty good thar, I reckon; and, strannger, after we've taken a sup, we'll eat a bite, and then lie down. It's high time, I reckon, that wedo so. "

It was in his progress to the branch that Ralph Colleton came upon thismember of the family. 

Nick Snell was no genius, and did not readily reply to the passinginquiry which was put to him by the youth, who advanced upon the mainparty while the dialogue between the pedler and the wagoner was in fullgust. They started, as if by common consent, to their feet, as hishorse's tread smote upon their ears; but, satisfied with the appearanceof a single man, and witnessing the jaded condition of his steed, theywere content to invite him to partake with them of the rude cheer whichthe good-woman was now busied in setting before him. 

The hoe-cakes and bacon were smoking finely, and the fatigue of theyouth engaged his senses, with no unwillingness on their part, to detecta most savory attraction in the assault which they made upon his sightand nostrils alike. He waited not for a second invitation, but in a fewmoments--having first stripped his horse, and put the saddle, bydirection of the emigrant, into his wagon--he threw himself beside themupon the ground, and joined readily and heartily in the consumption ofthe goodly edibles which were spread out before them. 

They had not been long at this game, when a couple of fine watch-dogswhich were in the camp, guarding the baggage, gave the alarm, and thewhole party was on the alert, with sharp eye and cocked rifle. Theycommenced a survey, and at some distance could hear the tread ofhorsemen, seemingly on the approach. The banditti, of which we havealready spoken, were well known to the emigrant, and he had already tocomplain of divers injuries at their hands. It is not, therefore, matterof surprise, that he should place his sentinels, and prepare even forthe most audacious attack. 

He had scarcely made this disposition of his forces, which exhibitedthem to the best advantage, when the strangers made their appearance. They rode cautiously around, without approaching the defencessufficiently nigh to occasion strife, but evidently having for theirobject originally an attack upon the wayfarer. At length, one of theparty, which consisted of six persons, now came forward, and, with afriendly tone of voice, bade them good-evening in a manner which seemedto indicate a desire to be upon a footing of the most amiable sort withthem. The old man answered dryly, with some show of sarcasticindifference in his speech--

"Ay, good evening enough, if the moon had not gone down, and if thestars were out, that we might pick out the honest men from the rogues. "

"What, are there rogues in these parts, then, old gentleman?" asked thenew-comer. 

"Why do you ask me?" was the sturdy reply. "You ought to be able to say, without going farther than your own pockets. "

"Why, you are tough to-night, my old buck, " was the somewhat crabbedspeech of the visiter. 

"You'll find me troublesome, too, Mr. Nightwalker: so take good counsel, and be off while you've whole bones, or I'll tumble you now in half aminute from your crittur, and give you a sharp supper of pine-knots. "

"Well, that wouldn't be altogether kind on your part, old fellow, and Imightn't be willing to let you; but, as you seem not disposed to becivil, I suppose the best thing I can do is to be off. "

"Ay, ay, be off. You get nothing out of us; and we've no shot that wewant to throw away. Leave you alone, and Jack Ketch will save us shot. "

"Ha, ha!" exclaimed the outlier, in concert, and from the deeperemphasis which he gave it, in chorus to the laughter which followed, among the party, the dry expression of the old man's humor--

"Ha, ha! old boy--you have the swing of it to-night, " continued thevisiter, as he rode off to his companions; "but, if you don't mind, weshall smoke you before you get into Alabam!"

The robber rejoined his companions, and a sort of council fordeliberation was determined upon among them. 

"How now, Lambert! you have been at dead fault, " was his sudden address, as he returned, to one of the party. "You assured me that old Snell andhis two sons were the whole force that he carried, while I find twostout, able-bodied men besides, all well armed, and ready for theattack. The old woman, too, standing with the gridiron in her fists, isequal of herself to any two men, hand to hand. "

Lambert, a short, sly, dogged little personage, endeavored to accountfor the error, if such it was--"but he was sure, that at starting, therewere but three--they must have have had company join them since. Did thelieutenant make out the appearance of the others?"

"I did, " said the officer in command, "and, to say truth, they do notseem to be of the old fellow's party. They must have come upon him sincethe night. But how came you, Lambert, to neglect sawing the axle? Youhad time enough when it stood in the farmyard last night, and you wereabout it a full hour. The wagon stands as stoutly on its all-fours asthe first day it was built. "

"I did that, sir, and did it, I thought, to the very mark. I calculatedto leave enough solid to bear them to the night, when in our circuit weshould come among them just in time to finish the business. The wood isstronger, perhaps, than I took it to be, but it won't hold out longerthan to-morrow, I'm certain, when, if we watch, we can take our way withthem. "

"Well, I hope so, and we must watch them, for it won't do to let the oldfellow escape. He has, I know, a matter of three or four hundred harddollars in his possession, to buy lands in Mississippi, and it's a pityto let so much good money go out of the state. "

"But why may we not set upon them now?" inquired one of the youngest ofthe party. 

"For a very good reason, Briggs--they are armed, ready, and nearly equalin number to ourselves; and though I doubt not we should be able to rideover them, yet I am not willing to leave one or more of us behind. Besides, if we keep the look-out to-morrow, as we shall, we can settlethe business without any such risk. "

This being the determination, the robbers, thus disappointed of theirgame, were nevertheless in better humor than might have been wellexpected; but such men are philosophers, and their very recklessness ofhuman life is in some respects the result of a due estimate of itsvicissitudes. They rode on their way laughing at the sturdy bluntness ofthe old wagoner, which their leader, of whom we have already heard underthe name of Dillon, related to them at large. With a whoop and halloo, they cheered the travellers as they rode by, but at some distance from, the encampment. The tenants of the encampment, thus strangely butfortunately thrown together, having first seen that everything wasquiet, took their severally assigned places, and laid themselves downfor repose. The pedler contenting himself with guessing that "them 'erechaps did not make no great deal by that speculation. "

CHAPTER XXVII. 

THE OUTLAWS. 

It was in the wildest and least-trodden recesses of the rock and forest, that the band of outlaws, of which Rivers was the great head and leader, had fixed their place of abode and assemblage. A natural cavity, formedby the juxtaposition of two huge rocks, overhung by a third, with somefew artificial additions, formed for them a cavern, in which--soadmirably was it overgrown by the surrounding forest, and so finelysituated among hills and abrupt ridges yielding few inducements fortravel--they found the most perfect security. 

It is true such a shelter could not long have availed them as such, werethe adjacent country in the possession of a civilized people; but thenear neighborhood of the Cherokees, by keeping back civilization, was, perhaps, quite as much as the position they had chosen, its protectionfrom the scrutiny of many, who had already, prompted by their excesses, endeavored, on more than one occasion, to find them out. The place wasdistant from the village of Chestatee about ten miles, or perhaps more. No highway--no thoroughfare or public road passed in its neighborhood, and it had been the policy of the outlaws to avoid the use of anyvehicle, the traces of which might be followed. There was, besides, butlittle necessity for its employment. The place of counsel and assemblagewas not necessarily their place of abode, and the several members of theband found it more profitable to reside, or keep stations, in theadjacent hamlets and _stands_ (for by this latter name in those regions, the nightly stopping-places of wayfarers are commonly designated) where, in most cases, they put on the appearance, and in many respects bore thereputation, of staid and sober working men. 

This arrangement was perhaps the very best for the predatory life theyled, as it afforded opportunities for information which otherwise musthave been lost to them. In this way they heard of this or thattraveler--his destination--the objects he had in view, and the wealth hecarried about with him. In one of these situations the knowledge of oldSnell's journey, and the amount of wealth in his possession, had beenacquired; and in the person of the worthy stable-boy who brought corn tothe old fellow's horses the night before, and whom he rewarded with a_thrip_ (the smallest silver coin known in the southern currency, thefive-cent issue excepted) we might, without spectacles, recognise theactive fugleman of the outlaws, who sawed half through his axle, cleanedhis wheels of all their grease, and then attempted to rob him the verynight after. 

Though thus scattered about, it was not a matter of difficulty to callthe outlaws together upon an emergency. One or more of the mosttrustworthy among them had only to make a tour over the road, andthrough the hamlets in which they were harbored within the circuit often or twenty miles, and as they kept usually with rigid punctuality totheir several stations, they were soon apprized, and off at the firstsignal. A whisper in the ear of the hostler who brought out your horse, or the drover who put up the cattle, was enough; and the absence of acolt from pasture, or the missing of a stray young heifer from theflock, furnished a sufficient reason to the proprietor for theoccasional absence of Tom, Dick, or Harry: who, in the meanwhile, was, most probably, crying "stand" to a true man, or cutting a trunk from asulkey, or, in mere wantonness, shooting down the traveller who hadperhaps given him a long chase, yet yielded nothing by way ofcompensation for the labor. 

Dillon, or, to speak more to the card, Lieutenant Dillon, arrived at theplace of assemblage just as the day was breaking. He was a leader ofconsiderable influence among the outlaws, and, next to Rivers, was mostpopular. Indeed, in certain respects, he was far more popular; for, though perhaps not so adroit in his profession, nor so well fitted forits command, he was possessed of many of those qualities which are aptto be taking with "the fierce democratic!" He was a prince of hailfellows--was thoroughly versed in low jest and scurvy anecdote--couldplay at pushpins, and drink at every point in the game; and, strange tosay, though always drinking, was never drunk. Nor, though thusaccomplished, and thus prone to these accomplishments, did he everneglect those duties which he assumed to perform. No indulgence led himaway from his post, and, on the other hand, no post compelled orconstrained him into gravity. He was a careless, reckless blade, indifferent alike, it would seem, to sun and storm--and making of life acircle, that would not inaptly have illustrated the favorite text ofSardanapalus. 

He arrived at the cave, as we have said just as the day was breaking. Ashrill whistle along the ridges of wood and rock as he passed them, denoted the various stations of the sentinels, as studiously strewedalong the paths by which their place of refuge might be assailed, as ifthey were already beleaguered by an assailing army. Without pausing tolisten to the various speeches and inquiries which assailed his earsupon his arrival he advanced to the cavern, and was told that thecaptain had been for some time anxiously awaiting his arrival--that hehad morosely kept the inner recess of the cave, and since his return, which had not been until late in the night, had been seen but two orthree times, and then but for a moment, when he had come forth to makeinquiries for himself. 

Leaving his men differently disposed, Dillon at once penetrated into thesmall apartment in which his leader was lodged, assured of the proprietyof the intrusion, from what had just been told him. 

The recess, which was separated from the outer hall by a curtain ofthick coarse stuff, falling to the floor from a beam, the apertures forthe reception of which had been chiselled in the rock, was dimlyilluminated by a single lamp, hanging from a chain, which was in turnfastened to a pole that stretched directly across the apartment. A smalltable in the centre of the room, covered with a piece of cotton cloth, afew chairs, a broken mirror, and on a shelf that stood trimly in thecorner, a few glasses and decanters, completed the furniture of theapartment. 

On the table at which the outlaw sat, lay his pistols--a huge andunwieldy, but well-made pair. A short sword, a dirk and one or two otherweapons of similar description, contemplated only for hand-to-handpurposes, lay along with them; and the better to complete the picture, now already something _outre_, a decanter of brandy and tumblers werecontiguous. 

Rivers did not observe the slide of the curtain to the apartment, northe entrance of Dillon. He was deeply absorbed in contemplation; hishead rested heavily upon his two palms, while his eyes were deeply fixedupon the now opened miniature which he had torn from the neck of LucyMunro, and which rested before him. He sighed not--he spoke not, butever and anon, as if perfectly unconscious all the while of what he did, he drank from the tumbler of the compounded draught that stood beforehim, hurriedly and desperately, as if to keep the strong emotion fromchoking him. There was in his look a bitter agony of expression, indicating a vexed spirit, now more strongly than ever at work in a waywhich had, indeed, been one of the primest sources of his miserablelife. It was a spirit ill at rest with itself--vexed at its ownfeebleness of execution--its incapacity to attain and acquire therealization of its own wild and vague conceptions. His was the ambitionof one who discovers at every step that nothing can be known, yet willnot give up the unprofitable pursuit, because, even while making thediscovery, he still hopes vainly that he may yet, in his own person, give the maxim the lie. For ever soaring to the sun, he was for everrealizing the fine Grecian fable of Icarus; and the sea ofdisappointment into which he perpetually fell, with its tumultuous tidesand ever-chafing billows, bearing him on from whirlpool to whirlpool, for ever battling and for ever lost. He was unconscious, as we havesaid, of the entrance and approach of his lieutenant, and words ofbitterness, in soliloquy, fell at brief periods from his lips. --

"It is after all the best--" he mused. "Despair is the true philosophy, since it begets indifference. Why should I hope? What prospect is therenow, that these eyes, that lip, these many graces, and the imperialpride of that expression, which looks out like a high soul from theheaven that men talk and dream of--what delusion is there now to bid mehope they ever can be more to me than they are now? I care not for theworld's ways--nor feel I now the pang of its scorn and its outlawry; yetI would it were not so, that I might, upon a field as fair as that ofthe most successful, assert my claim, and woo and win her--not withthose childish notes of commonplace--that sickly cant of sentimentalstuff which I despise, and which I know she despises no less than I. 

"Yet, when this field was mine, as I now desire it, what more did itavail me? Where was the strong sense--the lofty reason that should thenhave conquered with an unobstructed force, sweeping all before it, asthe flame that rushes through the long grass of the prairies?Gone--prostrate--dumb. The fierce passion was upward, and my heart wasthen more an outlaw than I myself am now. 

"Yet there is one hope--one chance--one path, if not to her affections, at least to her. It shall be done, and then, most beautiful witch, cold, stern, and to me heartless, as thou hast ever been--thou shalt notalways triumph. I would that I could sleep on this--I would that I couldsleep. There is but one time of happiness--but one time when the thornhas no sting--when the scorn bites not--when the sneer chafes not--whenthe pride and the spirit shrink not--when there is no wild passion tomake everything a storm and a conflagration among the senses--and thatis--when one forgets!--I would that I could sleep!"

As he spoke, his head sunk upon the table with a heavy sound, as ifunconsciousness had really come with the articulated wish. He startedquickly, however, as now, for the first time, the presence of Dillonbecame obvious, and hurriedly thrusting the portrait into his vest, heturned quickly to the intruder, and sternly demanded the occasion of hisinterruption. The lieutenant was prepared, and at once replied to theinterrogatory with the easy, blunt air of one who not only felt that hemight be confided in, but who was then in the strict performance of hisduties. 

"I came at your own call, captain. I have just returned from the river, and skirting down in that quarter, and was kept something later than Ilooked for; hearing, on my arrival, that you had been inquiring for me, I did not hesitate to present myself at once, not knowing but thebusiness might be pressing. "

"It is pressing, " responded the outlaw, seemingly well satisfied withthe tacit apology. "It is pressing, Dillon, and you will have littletime for rest before starting again. I myself have been riding allnight, and shall be off in another hour. But what have you to report?What's in the wind now?"

"I hear but little, sir. There is some talk about a detachment of theGeorgia guard, something like a hundred men, to be sent out expresslyfor our benefit; but I look upon this as a mistake. Their eye is ratherupon the miners, and the Indian gold lands and those who dig it, and notupon those who merely take it after it is gathered. I have heard, too, of something like a brush betwixt Fullam's troop and the miners atTracy's diggings, but no particulars, except that the guard got theworst of it. "

"On that point I am already advised. That is well for us, since it willturn the eye of the authorities in a quarter in which we have little todo. I had some hand in that scrape myself, and set the dogs on with thisobject; and it is partly on this matter that I would confer with you, since there are some few of our men in the village who had large part init, who must not be hazarded, and must yet stay there. "

"If the brush was serious, captain, that will be a matter of somedifficulty; for of late, there has been so much of our business done, that government, I believe, has some thought of taking it up, and inorder to do so without competition, will think of putting us down. UncleSam and the states, too, are quarrelling in the business, and, as Ihear, there is like to be warm work between them. The Georgians arequite hot on the subject, and go where I will, they talk of nothing elsethan hanging the president, the Indians, and all the judges. They arebrushing up their rifles, and they speak out plain. "

"The more sport for us--but this is all idle. It will all end in talk, and whether it do or not, we, at least, have nothing to do with it. But, there is drink--fill--and let us look to business before either of ussleep. "

The lieutenant did as suggested by Rivers, who, rising from his seat, continued for some time to pace the apartment, evidently in deepmeditation. He suddenly paused, at length, and resuming his seat, inquired of Dillon as to the manner in which he had been employedthrough the last few days. 

A narration, not necessary to repeat, followed from the officer in whichthe numerous petty details of frontier irregularity made up the chiefmaterial. Plots and counterplots were rife in his story, and more thanonce the outlaw interrupted his officer in the hope of abridging thepetty particulars of some of their attenuated proportions--an aim notalways successful, since, among the numerous virtues of LieutenantDillon, that of precision and niceness in his statements must not beomitted. To this narration, however, though called for by himself, thesuperior yielded but little attention, until he proceed to describe theadventure of the night, resulting so unsuccessfully, with the emigratingfarmer. When he described the persons of the two strangers, sounexpectedly lending their aid in defence of the traveller, a newinterest was awakened in the features and mariner of his auditor, whohere suddenly and with energy interrupted him, to make inquiries withregard to their dress and appearance, which not a little surprisedDillon, who had frequently experienced the aversion of his superior toall seemingly unnecessary minutiae. Having been satisfied on thesepoints, the outlaw rose, and pacing the apartment with slow steps, seemed to meditate some design which the narrative had suggested. Suddenly pausing, at length, as if all the necessary lights had shone inupon his deliberations at once, he turned to Dillon, who stood in silentwaiting, and thus proceeded:--

"I have it, " said he, half-musingly, "I have it, Dillon--it must be so. How far, say you, is it from the place where the man--what's hisname--encamped last night?"

"Nine or ten miles, perhaps, or more. "

"And you know his route for to-day?"

"There is now but one which he can take, pursuing the route which hedoes. "

"And upon that he will not go more than fifteen or twenty miles in theday. But not so with _him_--not so with _him_. He will scarcely becontent to move at that pace, and there will be no hope in that way toovertake him. "

Rivers spoke in soliloquy, and Dillon, though accustomed to many of themental irregularities of his superior, exhibited something like surpriseas he looked upon the lowering brows and unwonted indecision of theoutlaw. 

"Of whom does the captain speak?" was his inquiry. 

"Of _whom?_--of _him_--of _him_!" was the rather abrupt response of thesuperior, who seemed to regard the ignorance of his lieutenant as to theobject in view, with almost as much wonder as that worthy entertained atthe moment for the hallucinations of his captain. 

"Of whom should I speak--of whom should I think but the one--accursed, fatal and singular, who--" and he stopped short, while his mind, nowcomprehending the true relationship between himself and the personbeside him, which, in his moody self-examination, he had momentarilyforgotten, proceeded to his designs with all his wonted coherence. 

"I wander, Dillon, and am half-asleep. The fact is, I am almost worn outwith this unslumbering motion. I have not been five hours out of thesaddle in the last twenty-four, and it requires something more of rest, if I desire to do well what I have on hand--what, indeed, we both haveon hand. "

There was something apologetic in the manner, if not in the language, ofthe speaker; and his words seemed to indicate, if possible, an excusefor the incoherence of his address, in the physical fatigue which he hadundergone--in this way to divert suspicion from those mental causes ofexcitement, of which, in the present situation, he felt somewhatashamed. Pouring out a glass of liquor, and quaffing it without pause, he motioned to the lieutenant to do the same--a suggestion not possiblefor that person to misunderstand--and then proceeded to narrate suchportions of the late occurrences in and about the village as it wasnecessary he should know. He carefully suppressed his own agency in anyof these events, for, with the policy of the ancient, he had learned, atan early period in his life, to treat his friend as if he might one daybecome his enemy; and, so far as such a resolution might consistently bemaintained, while engaged in such an occupation as his, he rigidlyobserved it. 

"The business, Dillon, which I want you to execute, and to which youwill give all your attention, is difficult and troublesome, and requiresingenuity. Mark Forrester was killed last night, as is supposed, in afray with a youth named Colleton, like himself a Carolinian. If such isnot the opinion yet, I am determined such shall be the opinion; and havemade arrangements by which the object will be attained. Of course themurderer should be taken, and I have reasons to desire that this objecttoo should be attained. It is on this business, then, that you are togo. You must be the officer to take him. "

"But where is he? if within reach, you know there is no difficulty. "

"Hear me; there is difficulty though he is within reach. He is one ofthe men whom you found with the old farmer you would otherwise haveattacked last night. There is difficulty, for he will fight like a wildbeast, and stick to his ground like a rattlesnake; and, supported by theold fellow whom you found him with, he will be able to resist almost anyforce which you could muster on the emergency. The only fear I have is, that being well-mounted, he will not keep with the company, but as theymust needs travel slowly, he will go on and leave them. "

"Should it not rather be a source of satisfaction than otherwise--willit not put him more completely at our disposal?"

"No; for having so much the start of you, and a good animal, he willsoon leave all pursuit behind him. There is a plan which I have beenthinking of, and which will be the very thing, if at once acted upon. You know the sheriff, Maxson, lives on the same road; you must take twoof the men with you, pick fresh and good horses, set off to Maxson's atonce with a letter which I shall give you, and he will make you specialdeputies for the occasion of this young man's arrest. I have arranged itso that the suspicion shall take the shape of a legal warrant, sufficient to authorize his arrest and detention. The proof of hisoffence will be matter of after consideration. "

"But will Maxson do this--may he not refuse? You know he has been oncebefore threatened with being brought up for his leaning toward us, inthat affair of the Indian chief, Enakamon. "

"He can not--he dare not refuse!" said the outlaw, rising impatiently. "He holds his place and his life at my disposal, and he knows it. Hewill not venture to refuse me!"

"He has been very scrupulous of late in all his dealings with us, youknow, and has rather kept out of our way. Besides that, he has beenthorough-going at several camp-meetings lately, and, when a man beginsto appear over-honest, I think it high time he should be looked after byall parties. "

"You are right, Dillon, you are right. I should not trust it to papereither. I will go myself. But you shall along with me, and on the way Iwill put you in a train for bringing out certain prisoners whom it isnecessary that we should secure before the sitting of the court, anduntil it is over. They might be foolish enough to convict themselves ofbeing more honest than their neighbors, and it is but humane to keepthem from the commission of an impropriety. Give orders for the best twoof your troop, and have horses saddled for all four of us. We must be onthe road. "

Dillon did as directed, and returned to the conference, which wasconducted, on the part of his superior, with a degree of excitation, mingled with a sharp asperity of manner, something unwonted for him inthe arranging of any mere matter of business. 

"Maxson will not refuse us; if he do, I will hang him by mysaddle-straps. The scoundrel owes his election to our votes, and shallhe refuse us what we ask? He knows his fate too well to hesitate. Andthen, Dillon, when you have his commission for the arrest of this boy, spare not the spur: secure him at all hazards of horseflesh or personalinconvenience. He will not resist the laws, or anything having theirsemblance; nor, indeed, has he any reason--"

"No reason, sir! why, did you not say he had killed Forrester?" inquiredhis companion. 

"Your memory is sharp, master lieutenant; I did say, and I say so still. But he affects to think not, and I should not be at all surprised if henot only deny it to you, but in reality disbelieve it himself. Have younot heard of men who have learned in time to believe the lies of theirown invention? Why not men doubt the truth of their own doings? Thereare such men, and he may he one of them. He may deny stoutly andsolemnly the charge, but let him not deceive you or baffle your pursuit. We shall prove it upon him, and he shall hang, Dillon--ay, hang, hang, hang--though it be under her very eyes!"

It was in this way that, in the progress of the dialogue which tookplace between the chief and his subordinate, the rambling malignitywould break through the cooler counsels of the villain, and darkglimpses of the mystery of the transaction would burst upon the sensesof the latter. Rivers had the faculty, however, of never exhibiting toomuch of himself; and when hurried on by a passion seemingly too fierceand furious for restraint, he would suddenly curb himself in, while asharp and scornful smile would curl his lips, as if he felt aconsciousness, not only of his own powers of command, but of hisimpenetrability to all analysis. 

The horses being now ready, the outlaw, buckling on his pistols, andhiding his dirk in his bosom, threw a huge cloak over his shoulders, which fully concealed his person; and, in company with his lieutenant, and two stout men of his band, all admirably and freshly mounted, theyproceeded to the abode of the sheriff. 

This man, connected, though secretly, with Rivers and Munro, wasindebted to them and the votes which in that region they could throwinto the boxes, for his elevation to the office which he held, and was, as might reasonably have been expected, a mere creature under theirmanagement. Maxson, of late days, however, whether from a reasonableapprehension, increasing duly with increasing years, that he mightbecome at last so involved in the meshes of those crimes of hiscolleagues, from which, while he was compelled to share the risk, he wasdenied in great part the profit, had grown scrupulous--had avoided asmuch as possible their connexion; and, the better to strengthen himselfin the increasing favor of public opinion, had taken advantage of allthose externals of morality and virtue which, unhappily, too frequentlyconceal qualities at deadly hostility with them. He had, in the popularphrase of the country, "got religion;" and, like the worthy reformers ofthe Cromwell era, everything which he did, and everything which he said, had Scripture for its authority. Psalm-singing commenced and ended theday in his house, and graces before meat and graces before sleep, prayers and ablutions, thanksgivings and fastings, had so much thinnedthe animal necessities of his household, that a domestic war was theconsequence, and the sheriff and the sheriff's lady held separate sway, having equally divided the dwelling between them, and ruling each theirrespective sovereignties with a most jealous watchfulness. All rights, not expressly delegated in the distribution of powers originally, wereinsisted on even to blood; and the arbitration of the sword, or ratherthe poker, once appealed to, most emphatically, by the sovereign of thegentler sex, had cut off the euphonious utterance of one of the choicestparaphrases of Sternhold and Hopkins in the middle; and by bruising thescull of the reformed and reforming sheriff, had nearly rendered a newelection necessary to the repose and well-being of the county in whichthey lived. 

But the worthy convert recovered, to the sore discomfiture of hisspouse, and to the comfort and rejoicing of all true believers. Thebreach in his head was healed, but that which separated his familyremained the same--

 "As rocks that had been rent asunder. "

They knew the fellowship of man and wife only in so much as wasabsolutely essential to the keeping up of appearances to the publiceye--a matter necessary to maintaining her lord in the possession of hisdignity; which, as it conferred honor and profit, through him, upon heralso, it was of necessity a part of her policy to continue. 

There had been a brush--a small gust had passed over that fair region ofdomestic harmony--on the very morning upon which the outlaw and hisparty rode up the untrimmed and half-overgrown avenue, which led to thehouse of the writ-server. There had been an amiable discussion betweenthe two, as to which of them, with propriety, belonged the duty ofputting on the breeches of their son Tommy, preparatory to his makinghis appearance at the breakfast-table. Some extraneous influence hadthat morning prompted the sheriff to resist the performance of a taskwhich had now for some time been imposed upon him, and for which, therefore, there was the sanction of prescription and usage. It was anunlucky moment for the assertion of his manhood: for, a series ofcircumstances operating just about that time unfavorably upon the mindof his wife, she was in the worst possible humor upon which to tryexperiments. 

She heard the refusal of her liege to do the required duty, therefore, with an astonishment, not unmingled with a degree of pleasure, as itgave a full excuse for the venting forth upon him of those splenetichumors, which, for some time, had been growing and gathering in hersystem. The little sheriff, from long attendance on _courts_ and_camps_, had acquired something more, perhaps, of the desire anddisposition, than the capacity, to make long speeches and longersermons, in the performance of both of which labors, however, he wasadmirably fortified by the technicals of the law, and the Biblephraseology. The quarrel had been waged for some time, and poor Tommy, the bone of contention, sitting all the while between the contendingparties in a state of utter nudity, kept up a fine running accompanimentto the full tones of the wranglers, by crying bitterly for his breeches. 

For the first time for a long period of years, the lady found her powersof tongue fail in the proposed effect upon the understanding of herloving and legal lord; and knowing but of one other way to assail it, her hand at length grappling with the stool, from which she tumbled thebreechless babe without scruple, seized upon an argument to which heradversary could oppose neither text nor technical; when, fortunately forhim, the loud rapping of their early visiters at the outer door of thedwelling interposed between her wrath and its object, and spared thelife of the devout sheriff for other occurrences. Bundling the nakedchild out of sight, the mother rushed into an inner apartment, shakingthe stool in the pale countenance of her lord as she retreated, in amanner and with a look which said, as plainly as words could say, thatthis temporary delay would only sharpen her appetite for vengeance, andexaggerate its terrors when the hour did arrive. It was with ahesitating step and wobegone countenance, therefore, that the officerproceeded to his parlor, where a no less troublesome, but less awkwardtrial awaited him. 

[Transcriber's note: A chapter number was skipped in the original book. ]

CHAPTER XXIX. 

ARREST. 

The high-sheriff made his appearance before his early and well-knownvisiters with a desperate air of composure and unconcern, the effort toattain which was readily perceptible to his companions. He could not, inthe first place, well get rid of those terrors of the domestic worldfrom which their interruption had timely shielded him; nor, on the otherhand, could he feel altogether assured that the visit now paid him wouldnot result in the exaction of some usurious interest. He had recently, as we have said, as much through motives of worldly as spiritual policy, become an active religionist, in a small way, in and about the sectionof country in which he resided; and knowing that his professions were insome sort regarded with no small degree of doubt and suspicion by someof his brethren holding the same faith, he felt the necessity of playinga close and cautious game in all his practices. He might well beapprehensive, therefore, of the visits of those who never came but as somany omens of evil, and whose claims upon, and perfect knowledge of, histrue character, were such, that he felt himself, in many respects, mostcompletely at their mercy. 

Rivers did not give much time to preliminaries, but, after a few phrasesof commonplace, coming directly to the point, he stated the business inhand, and demanded the assistance of the officer of justice for thearrest of one of its fugitives. There were some difficulties of form inthe matter, which saved the sheriff in part, and which the outlaw had ingreat part over looked. A warrant of arrest was necessary from someofficer properly empowered to issue one, and a new difficulty was thuspresented in the way of Colleton's pursuit. The sheriff had not theslightest objections to making deputies of the persons recommended bythe outlaw, provided they were fully empowered to execute the commandsof some judicial officer; beyond this, the scrupulous executioner ofjustice was unwilling to go; and having stood out so long in theprevious controversy with his spouse, it was wonderful what a vast stockof audacious courage he now felt himself entitled, and ventured, tomanifest. 

"I can not do it, Master Guy--it's impossible--seeing, in the firstplace, that I ha'n't any right by the laws to issue any warrant, thoughit's true, I has to serve them. Then, agin, in the next place, 'twont dofor another reason that's jist as good, you see. It's only the otherday, Master Guy, that the fear of the Lord come upon me, and I gotreligion; and now I've set myself up as a worker in other courts, yousee, than those of man; and there be eyes around me that would see, andhearts to rejoice at the backslidings of the poor laborer. Howbeit, Master Guy, I am not the man to forget old sarvice; and if it be truethat this man has been put to death in this manner, though I myself cando nothing at this time, I may put you in the way--for the sake of oldtime, and for the sake of justice, which requires that the slayer of hisbrother should also be slain--of having your wish. "

Though something irritated still at the reluctance of his formercreature to lend himself without scruple to his purposes, the outlaw didnot hesitate to accept the overture, and to press for its immediateaccomplishment. He had expostulated with the sheriff for some time onthe point, and, baffled and denied, he was very glad, at the conclusionof the dialogue with that worthy, to find that there was even so much ofa prospect of concert, though falling far short of his originalanticipations, from that quarter. He was too well aware, also, of thedifficulty in the way of any proceeding without something savoring ofauthority in the matter; for, from a previous and rather correctestimate of Colleton's character, he well foresaw that, knowing hisenemy, he would fight to the last against an arrest; which, under theforms of law and with the sanction of a known officer, he wouldotherwise readily recognise and submit to. Seizing, therefore, upon thespeech of the sheriff, Rivers eagerly availed himself of its opening toobtain those advantages in the affair, of which, from the canting spiritand newly-awakened morality of his late coadjutor, he had utterly begunto despair. He proceeded to reply to the suggestion as follows:--

"I suppose, I must content myself, Maxson, with doing in this thing asyou say, though really I see not why you should now be so particular, for there are not ten men in the county who are able to determine uponany of your powers, or who would venture to measure their extent. Let ushear your plan, and I suppose it will be effectual in our object, andthis is all I want. All I desire is, that our people, you know, shouldnot be murdered by strangers without rhyme or reason. "

The sheriff knew well the hypocrisy of the sentiment with which Riversconcluded, but made no remark. A single smile testified his knowledge ofthe nature of his colleague, and indicated his suspicion of a deeper anddifferent motive for this new activity. Approaching the outlaw closely, he asked, in a half whisper:--

"Who was the witness of the murder--who could swear for the magistrate?You must get somebody to do that. "

This was another point which Rivers, in his impatience, had not thoughtto consider. But fruitful in expedient, his fertile mind suggested thatground of suspicion was all that the law required for apprehension atleast, and having already arranged that the body of the murdered manshould be found under certain circumstances, he contented himself withprocuring commissions, as deputies, for his two officers, and postedaway to the village. 

Here, as he anticipated, the intelligence had already been received--thebody of Forrester had been found, and sufficient ground for suspicion toauthorize a warrant was recognised in the dirk of the youth, which, smeared with blood as it had been left by Rivers, had been found uponthe body. Rivers had but little to do. He contrived, however, to donothing himself. The warrant of Pippin, as magistrate, was procured, andthe two officers commissioned by the sheriff went off in pursuit of thesupposed murderer, against whom the indignation of all the village wassufficiently heightened by the recollection of the close intimacyexisting between Ralph and Forrester, and the nobly characteristicmanner in which the latter had volunteered to do his fighting withRivers. The murdered man had, independent of this, no small popularityof his own, which brought out for him a warm and active sympathy highlycreditable to his memory. Old Allen, too, suffered deeply, not less onhis own than his daughter's account. She, poor girl, had few words, andher sorrow, silent, if not tearless, was confined to the solitude of herown chamber. 

In the prosecution of the affair against Ralph, there was but one personwhose testimony could have availed him, and that person was Lucy Munro. As the chief particular in evidence, and that which established thestrong leading presumption against him, consisted in the discovery ofhis dagger alongside the body of the murdered man, and covered with hisblood; it was evident that she who could prove the loss of the dagger bythe youth, and its finding by Munro, prior to the event, andunaccompanied by any tokens of crime, would not only be able to free theperson suspected, at least from this point of suspicion, but would beenabled to place its burden elsewhere, and with the most conclusivedistinctness. 

This was a dilemma which Rivers and Munro did not fail to consider. Theprivate deliberation, for an hour, of the two conspirators, determinedupon the course which for mutual safety they were required to pursue;and Munro gave his niece due notice to prepare for an immediatedeparture with her aunt and himself, on some plausible pretence, toanother portion of the country. 

To such a suggestion, as Lucy knew not the object, she offered noobjection; and a secret departure was effected of the three, who, aftera lonely ride of several hours through a route circuitously chosen tomislead, were safely brought to the sheltered and rocky abiding-place ofthe robbers, as we have already described it. Marks of its offensivefeatures, however, had been so modified as not to occasion much alarm. The weapons of war had been studiously put out of sight, and apartments, distinct from those we have seen, partly the work of nature, and partlyof man, were assigned for the accommodation of the new-comers. Theoutlaws had their instructions, and did not appear, though lurking andwatching around in close and constant neighborhood. 

Nor, in this particular alone, had the guilty parties made due provisionfor their future safety. The affair of the guard had made more stir thanhad been anticipated in the rash moment which had seen its consummation;and their advices warned them of the approach of a much larger force ofstate troops, obedient to the direction of the district-attorney, thanthey could well contend with. They determined, therefore, prudently forthemselves, to keep as much out of the way of detection as they could;and to avoid those risks upon which a previous conference had partiallypersuaded them to adventure. They were also apprized of the greaterexcitement attending the fate of Forrester, than could possibly havefollowed the death, in his place, of the contemplated victim; and, adopting a habit of caution, heretofore but little considered in thatregion, they prepared for all hazards, and, at the same time, tacitlydetermined upon the suspension of their numerous atrocities--at least, while a controlling force was in the neighborhood. Previous impunity hadled them so far, that at length the neighboring country was aroused, andall the better classes, taking advantage of the excitement, grew bolderin the expression of their anger against those who had beset them solong. The sheriff, Maxson, had been something tutored by theseinfluences, or, it had been fair to surmise that his scruples would havebeen less difficult to overcome. 

In the meantime, the pursuit of Ralph Colleton, as the murderer ofForrester, had been hotly urged by the officers. The pursuers knew theroute, and having the control of new horses as they proceeded, atfrequent intervals, gained of course at every step upon the unconscioustravellers. We have seen the latter retiring to repose at a late hour ofthe night. Under the several fatigues which all parties had undergone, it is not strange that the sun should have arisen some little timebefore those who had not retired quite so early as himself. At amoderately late hour they breakfasted together--the family of thewagoner, and Ralph, and our old friend the pedler. Pursuing the sameroute, the two latter, after the repast, separated, with manyacknowledgments on both sides, from the emigrating party, and pursuedtheir way together. 

On their road, Bunce gave the youth a long and particular account of allthose circumstances at the village-inn by which he had been deprived ofhis chattels, and congratulated himself not a little on the adroitthought which had determined him to retain the good steed of the LawyerPippin in lieu of his losses. He spoke of it as quite a clever andcreditable performance, and one as fully deserving the golden honors ofthe medal as many of those doings which are so rewarded. 

On this point his companion said little; and though he could notaltogether comprehend the propriety of the pedler's morals, he certainlydid not see but that the necessity and pressing danger of his situationsomewhat sanctioned the deceit. He suggested this idea to Bunce, butwhen he came to talk of the propriety of returning the animal the momenthe was fairly in safety, the speculator failed entirely to perceive themoral of his philosophy. 

The sheriff's officers came upon the wagoner a few hours after the twohad separated from him. The intelligence received from him quickenedtheir pace, and toward noon they descried our travellers ascending ahill a few hundred yards in advance of them. A repeated application ofthe spur brought them together, and, as had been anticipated by Rivers, Ralph offered not the slightest objection, when once satisfied of thelegality of his arrest, to becoming their prisoner. But theconsternation of Bunce was inexpressible. He endeavored to shelterhimself in the adjoining woods, and was quietly edging his steed intothe covert for that purpose, on the first alarm, but was not permittedby the sharp eyes and ready unscrupulosity of the robber representativesof the law. They had no warrant, it is true, for the arrest of any otherperson than "the said Ralph Colleton"--but the unlucky color of Pippin'shorse, and their perfect knowledge of the animal, readily identifyinghim, did the business for the pedler. 

Under the custody of the laws, therefore, we behold the youth retracinghis ground, horror-stricken at the death of Forrester--indignant atthe suspicions entertained of himself as the murderer, but sanguineof the result, and firm and fearless as ever. Not so Bunce: therewere cruel visions in his sight of seven-sided pine-rails--fierceregulators--Lynch's law, and all that rude and terrible sort ofpunishment, which is studiously put in force in those regions for theenjoyment of evil-doers. The next day found them both securely locked upin the common jail of Chestatee. 

CHAPTER XXX. 

CHUB WILLIAMS. 

The young mind of Colleton, excursive as it was, could scarcely realizeto itself the strange and rapidly-succeeding changes of the last fewdays. Self-exiled from the dwelling in which so much of his heart andhope had been stored up--a wanderer among the wandering--assaulted byruffians--the witness of their crimes--pursued by the officers ofjustice, and finally the tenant of a prison, as a criminal himself!After the first emotions of astonishment and vexation hadsubsided--ignorant of the result of this last adventure, and preparingfor the worst--he called for pen and paper, and briefly, to his uncle, recounted his adventures, as we have already related them, partiallyacknowledging his precipitance in departing from his house, butsubstantially insisting upon the propriety of those grounds which hadmade him do so. 

To Edith, what could he say? Nothing--everything. His letter to her, enclosed in that to her uncle, was just such as might be expected fromone with a character such as we have endeavored to describe--that of thegenuine aristocrat of Carolina--gentle, but firm--soothing, butmanly--truly, but loftily affectionate--the rock touched, if notsoftened by the sunbeam; warm and impetuous, but generally just in hisemotions--liberal in his usual estimate of mankind, and generous, to afault, in all his associations;--ignorant of any value in money, unlessfor high purposes--as subservient to taste and civilization--a gracefulhumanity and an honorable affection. 

With a tenderness the most respectful, Ralph reiterated his love--prayedfor her prayers--frankly admitted his error in his abrupt flight, andfreely promised atonement as soon as he should be freed from hisdifficulties; an event which, in speaking to her, he doubted not. Thisduty over, his mind grew somewhat relieved, and, despatching a note bythe jailer's deputy to the lawyer Pippin, he desired immediately to seehim. 

Pippin had looked for such an invitation, and was already in attendance. His regrets were prodigious, but his gratification not less, as it wouldgive him an opportunity, for some time desired, for serving so excellenta gentleman. But the lawyer shook his head with most professionaluncertainty at every step of his own narration of the case, and soonconvinced Ralph that he really stood in a very awkward predicament. Hedescribed the situation of the body of Forrester when found; the bloodydirk which lay beside it, having the initials of his name plainly carvedupon it; his midnight flight; his close companionship with Forrester onthe evening of the night in which he had been murdered--a fact proved byold Allen and his family; the intimate freedom with which Forrester hadbeen known to confide his purposes to the youth, deducible from thejoint call which they had made upon the sweetheart of the former; andmany other smaller details, unimportant in themselves, but linkedtogether with the rest of the particulars, strengthening the chain ofcircumstances against him to a degree which rendered it improbable thathe should escape conviction. 

Pippin sought, however, to console his client, and, after the firstdevelopment of particulars, the natural buoyancy of the youth returned. He was not disposed readily to despair, and his courage and confidencerose with the pressure of events. He entered into a plain story of allthe particulars of his flight--the instrumentality of Miss Munro in thattransaction, and which she could explain, in such a manner as to do awaywith any unfavorable impression which that circumstance, of itself, might create. Touching the dagger, he could say nothing. He haddiscovered its loss, but knew not at what time he had lost it. Themanner in which it had been found was, of course, fatal, unless the factwhich he alleged of its loss could be established; and of this theconsulting parties saw no hope. Still, they did not despair, butproceeded to the task of preparing the defence for the day of trial, which was at hand. The technical portions of the case were managed bythe lawyer, who issued his subpoenas--made voluminous notes--wrote outthe exordium of his speech--and sat up all night committing it tomemory. 

Having done all that the occasion called for in his interview withRalph, the lawyer proceeded to visit, uncalled-for, one whom heconsidered a far greater criminal than his client. The cell to which theluckless pedler, Bunce, had been carried, was not far from that of theformer, and the rapid step of the lawyer soon overcame the distancebetween. 

Never was man seemingly so glad to see his neighbor as was Bunce, onthis occasion, to look upon Pippin. His joy found words of the mosthoneyed description for his visiter, and his delight was trulyinfectious. The lawyer was delighted too, but his satisfaction was of afar different origin. He had now some prospect of getting back hisfavorite steed--that fine animal, described by him elsewhere to thepedler, as docile as the dog, and fleet as the deer. He had heard of thesafety of his horse, and his anger with the pedler had undergone someabatement; but, with the consciousness of power common to inferiorminds, came a strong desire for its use. He knew that the pedler hadbeen guilty in a legal sense of no crime, and could only be liable in acivil action for his breach of trust. But he suspected that the dealerin wares was ignorant of the advantageous distinctions in morals whichthe law had made, and consequently amused himself with playing upon thefears of the offender. He put on a countenance of much commiseration, and, drawing a long sigh, regretted the necessity which had brought himto prepare the mind of his old friend for the last terrors of justice. 

But Bunce was not a man easily frightened. As he phrased it himself, hehad been quite too long knocking about among men to be scared byshadows, and replied stoutly--though really with some internalmisgivings--to the lachrymalities of the learned counsel. He gave him tounderstand that, if he got into difficulty, he knew some other personswhom his confessions would make uncomfortable; and hinted prettydirectly at certain practices of a certain professional gentleman, which, though the pedler knew nothing of the technical significant mightyet come under the head of barratry, and so forth. 

The lawyer was the more timid man of the two, and found it necessary topare down his potency. He soon found it profitable to let the matterrest, and having made arrangements with the pedler for bringing suit fordamages against two of the neighboring farmers concerned in thedemolition of his wares--who, happening to be less guilty than theiraccessaries, had ventured to remain in the country--Bunce found nodifficulty in making his way out of the prison. There had been no rightoriginally to detain him; but the consciousness of guilt, and some otherugly misgivings, had so relaxed the nerves of the tradesman, that he hadnever thought to inquire if his name were included in the warrant ofarrest. It is probable that his courage and confidence would have beenfar less than they appear at present, had not Pippin assured him thatthe regulators were no longer to be feared; that the judge had arrived;that the grand-jury had found bills against several of the offenders, and were still engaged in their labors; that a detachment of the statemilitary had been ordered to the station; and that things looked ascivil as it was altogether possible for such warlike exhibition toallow. It is surprising to think how fearlessly uncompromising was theconduct of Bunce under this new condition of affairs. 

But the pedler, in his own release from custody, was not forgetful ofhis less-fortunate companion. He was a frequent visiter in the dungeonof Ralph Colleton; bore all messages between the prisoner and hiscounsel; and contributed, by his shrewd knowledge of human kind, not alittle to the material out of which his defence was to be made. 

He suggested the suspicion, never before entertained by the youth, orentertained for a moment only, that his present arrest was the result ofa scheme purposely laid with a reference to this end; and did notscruple to charge upon Rivers the entire management of the matter. 

Ralph could only narrate what he knew of the malignant hatred of theoutlaw to himself--another fact which none but Lucy Munro couldestablish. Her evidence, however, would only prove Rivers to havemeditated one crime; it would not free him from the imputation of havingcommitted another. Still, so much was important, and casualties were tobe relied upon for the rest. 

But what was the horror of all parties when it was known that neitherLucy nor any of the landlord's family were to be found! The process ofsubpoena was returned, and the general opinion was, that alarmed at theapproach of the military in such force, and confident that his agency inthe late transactions could not long remain concealed in the possessionof so many, though guilty like himself, Munro had fled to the west. 

The mental agony of the youth, when thus informed, can not well heconceived. He was, for a time, utterly prostrate, and gave himself up todespair. The entreaties of the pedler, and the counsels and exhortingsof the lawyer, failed equally to enliven him; and they had almost cometo adopt his gloomy resignation, when, as he sat on his low bench, withhead drooping on his hand, a solitary glance of sunshine fell throughthe barred window--the only one assigned to his cell. 

The smile of God himself that solitary ray appeared to the diseasedspirit of the youth, and he grew strong in an instant. Talk of thelessons of the learned, and the reasonings of the sage!--a vagrantbreeze, a rippling water, a glance of the sweet sunlight, have more ofconsolation in them for the sad heart than all the pleadings ofphilosophy. They bring the missives of a higher teacher. 

Bunce was an active coadjutor with the lawyer in this melancholy case. He made all inquiries--he went everywhere. He searched in all places, and spared no labor; but at length despaired. Nothing could be elicitedby his inquiries, and he ceased to hope himself, and ceased to persuadeRalph into hope. The lawyer shook his head in reply to all questions, and put on a look of mystery which is the safety-valve to all swollenpretenders. 

In this state of affairs, taking the horse of the youth, with a lasteffort at discoveries, Bunce rode forth into the surrounding country. Hehad heretofore taken all the common routes, to which, in his previousintercourse with the people, he had been accustomed; he now determinedto strike into a path scarcely perceptible, and one which he neverremembered to have seen before. He followed, mile after mile, itssinuosities. It was a wild, and, seemingly, an untrodden region. Thehills shot up jaggedly from the plain around him--the fissures were rudeand steep--more like embrasures, blown out by sudden power from thesolid rock. Where the forest appeared, it was dense andintricate--abounding in brush and underwood; where it was deficient, theblasted heath chosen by the witches in Macbeth would have been no unfitsimilitude. 

Hopeless of human presence in this dreary region, the pedler yet rodeon, as if to dissipate the unpleasant thoughts, following upon hisfrequent disappointment. Suddenly, however, a turn in the winding pathbrought him in contact with a strange-looking figure, not more than fivefeet in height, neither boy nor man, uncouthly habited, and seeminglyone to whom all converse but that of the trees and rocks, during hiswhole life, had been unfamiliar. 

The reader has already heard something of the Cherokee pony--it was uponone of these animals he rode. They are a small, but compactly made andhardy creature--of great fortitude, stubborn endurance, and an activity, which, in the travel of day after day, will seldom subside from thegallop. It was the increasing demand for these animals that hadoriginally brought into existence and exercise a company, which, by atransition far from uncommon, passed readily from the plundering ofhorses to the cutting of throats and purses; scarcely discriminating intheir reckless rapacity between the several degrees of crime in whichsuch a practice involved them. 

Though somewhat uncouth in appearance, the new-comer seemed decidedlyharmless--nay, almost idiotic in appearance. His smile was pleasant, though illuminating features of the ruggedest description, and the tonesof his voice were even musical in the ears of the pedler, to whom anyvoice would probably have seemed so in that gloomy region. He verysociably addressed Bunce in the _patois_ of that section; and theceremonial of introduction, without delay or difficulty, was overcomeduly on both sides. In the southern wilderness, indeed, it does not callfor much formality, nor does a strict adherence to the received rules ofetiquette become at all necessary, to make the traveller "hail fellow, well met. " Anything in that quarter, savoring of reserve or stiffness, is punished with decided hostility or openly-avowed contempt; and, inthe more rude regions, the refusal to partake in the very socialemployments of wrestling or whiskey-drinking, has brought the scrupulouspersonage to the more questionable enjoyments of a regular gouging matchand fight. A demure habit is the most unpopular among all classes. Freedom of manner, on the other hand, obtains confidence readily, andthe heart is won, at once, by an off-handed familiarity of demeanor, which fails to recognise any inequalities in human condition. Thesociety and the continued presence of Nature, as it were, in her ownpeculiar abode, put aside all merely conventional distinctions, and menmeet upon a common footing. Thus, even when perfect strangers to oneanother, after the usual preliminaries of "how are you, friend, " or"strannger?"--"_whar_ from?"--"_whar_ going?"--"fair" or "foulweather"--as the case may be--the acquaintance is established, andfamiliarity well begun. Such was the case in the present instance. Bunceknew the people well, and exhibited his most unreluctant manner. Thehorses of the two, in like manner with their masters, made similarovertures; and in a little while, their necks were drawn in parallellines together. 

Bunce was less communicative, however, than the stranger. Still his headand heart, alike, were full, and he talked more freely than wasaltogether consistent with his Yankee character. He told of Ralph'spredicament, and the clown sympathized; he narrated the quest which hadbrought him forth, and of his heretofore unrewarded labors; concludedwith naming the ensuing Monday as the day of the youth's trial, when, ifnothing in the meantime could be discovered of the true criminal--forthe pedler never for a moment doubted that Ralph was innocent--he"mortally feared things would go agin him. "

"That will be hard, too--a mighty tough difficulty, now, strannger--tobe hanged for other folks' doings. But, I reckon, he'll have to make uphis mind to it. "

"Oh, no! don't say so, now, my friend, I beg you. What makes you thinkso?" said the anxious pedler. 

"Why, only from what I _heer'd_ you say. You said so yourself, and Ibelieved it as if I had seed it, " was the reply of the simplecountryman. 

"Oh, yes. It's but a poor chance with him now, I guess. I'd a notionthat I could find out some little particular, you see--"

"No, I don't see. "

"To be sure you don't, but that's my say. Everybody has a say, youknow. "

"No, I don't know. "

"To be sure, of course you don't know, but that's what I tell you. Nowyou must know--"

"Don't say _must_ to me, strannger, if you want that we shall keep handsoff. I don't let any man say _must_ to me. "

"No harm, my friend--I didn't mean no harm, " said the worried pedler, not knowing what to make of his acquaintance, who spoke shrewdly attimes, but occasionally in a speech, which awakened the doubts of thepedler as to the safety of his wits. Avoiding all circumlocution ofphrase, and dropping the "you sees, " and "you knows" from his narration, he proceeded to state his agency in procuring testimony for the youth, and of the ill-success which had hitherto attended him. At length, inthe course of his story, which he contrived to tell with as much cautionas came within the scope of his education, he happened to speak of LucyMunro; but had scarcely mentioned her name when his queer companioninterrupted him:--

"Look you, strannger, I'll lick you now, off-hand, if you don't put Missfor a handle to the gal's name. She's Miss Lucy. Don't I know her, andhan't I seen her, and isn't it I, Chub Williams, as they calls me, thatloves the very airth she treads?"

"You know Miss Lucy?" inquired the pedler, enraptured even at thismoderate discovery, though carefully coupling the prefix to her namewhile giving it utterance--"now, do you know Miss Lucy, friend, and willyou tell me where I can find her?"

"Do you think I will, and you may be looking arter her too? 'Drot my oldhat, strannger, but I do itch to git at you. "

"Oh, now, Mr. Williams--"

"I won't answer to that name. Call me Chub Williams, if you wants to beperlite. Mother always calls me Chub, and that's the reason I like it. "

"Well, Chub, "--said the other, quite paternally--"I assure you I don'tlove Miss Munro--and--"

"What! you don't love Miss Lucy. Why, everybody ought to love her. Now, if you don't love her, I'll hammer you, strannger, off hand. "

The poor pedler professed a proper sort of love for the young lady--notexactly such as would seek her for a wife, however, and succeeded insatisfying, after a while, the scruples of one who, in addition todeformity, he also discovered to labor under the more serious curse ofpartial idiocy. Having done this, and flattered, in sundry other ways, the peculiarities of his companion, he pursued his other point withlaudable pertinacity. 

He at length got from Chub his own history: how he had run into thewoods with his mother, who had suffered from the ill-treatment of herhusband: how, with his own industry, he had sustained her wants, andsupplied her with all the comforts which a long period had required; andhow, dying at length, she had left him--the forest boy--alone, to pursuethose toils which heretofore had an object, while she yielded him inreturn for them society and sympathy. These particulars, got from him ina manner the most desultory, were made to preface the more importantparts of the narrative. 

It appears that his harmlessness had kept him undisturbed, even by thewild marauders of that region, and that he still continued to procure anarrow livelihood by his woodland labors, and sought no association withthat humanity which, though among fellow-creatures, would still havelacked of fellowship for him. In the transfer of Lucy from the villageto the shelter of the outlaws, he had obtained a glimpse of her personand form, and had ever since been prying in the neighborhood for asecond and similar enjoyment. He now made known to the pedler her placeof concealment, which he had, some time before this event, himselfdiscovered; but which, through dread of Rivers, for whom he seemed toentertain an habitual fear, he had never ventured to penetrate. 

"Well, I must see her, " exclaimed Bunce. "I a'n't afraid, 'cause yousee, Mr. Williams--Chub, I mean, it's only justice, and to save the pooryoung gentleman's life. I'm sure I oughtn't to be afraid, and no more Ia'n't. Won't you go there with me, Chub?"

"Can't think of it, strannger. Guy is a dark man, and mother said I mustkeep away when he rode in the woods. Guy don't talk--he shoots. "

The pedler made sundry efforts to procure a companion for his adventure;but finding it vain, and determined to do right, he grew more resolutewith the necessity, and, contenting himself with claiming the guidanceof Chub, he went boldly on the path. Having reached a certain point inthe woods, after a very circuitous departure from the main track, theguide pointed out to the pedler a long and rude ledge of rocks, so rude, so wild, that none could have ever conjectured to find them the abode ofanything but the serpent and the wolf. But there, according to theidiot, was Lucy Munro concealed. Chub gave the pedler his directions, then alighting from his nag, which he concealed in a clump ofneighboring brush, hastily and with the agility of a monkey ran up aneighboring tree which overhung the prospect. 

Bunce, left alone, grew somewhat staggered with his fears. He nowhalf-repented of the self-imposed adventure; wondered at his own rashhumanity, and might perhaps have utterly forborne the trial, but for asingle consideration. His pride was concerned, that the deformed Chubshould not have occasion to laugh at his weakness. Descending, therefore, from his horse, he fastened him to the hanging branch of aneighboring tree, and with something of desperate defiance in hismanner, resolutely advanced to the silent and forbidding mass of rocks, which rose up so sullenly around him. In another moment, and he was lostto sight in the gloomy shadow of the entrance-passage pointed out to himby the half-witted, but not altogether ignorant dwarf. 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

THE ROCK CASTLE OF THE ROBBERS. 

But the preparations of Bunce had been foreseen and provided for bythose most deeply interested in his progress; and scarcely had theworthy tradesman effected his entrance fairly into the forbiddenterritory, when he felt himself grappled from behind. He struggled withan energy, due as much to the sudden terror as to any exercise of thefree will; but he struggled in vain. The arms that were fastened abouthis own bound them down with a grasp of steel; and after a few momentsof desperate effort, accompanied with one or two exclamations, half-surprise, half-expostulation, of "Hello, friend, what do you mean?"and "I say, now, friend, you'd better have done--" the struggle ceased, and he lay supine in the hold of the unseen persons who had secured him. 

These persons he could not then discern; the passage was cavernouslydark, and had evidently been as much the work of nature as of art. Ahandkerchief was fastened about his eyes, and he felt himself carried onthe shoulders of those who made nothing of the burden. After theprogress of several minutes, in which the anxiety natural to hissituation led Bunce into frequent exclamations and entreaties, he wasset down, the bandage was removed from his eyes, and he was once morepermitted their free exercise. 

To his great wonder, however, nothing but women, of all sizes and ages, met his sight. In vain did he look around for the men who brought him. They were no longer to be seen, and so silent had been their passageout, that the unfortunate pedler was compelled to satisfy himself withthe belief that persons of the gentler sex had been in truth hiscaptors. 

Had he, indeed, given up the struggle so easily? The thought wasmortifying enough; and yet, when he looked around him, he grew moresatisfied with his own efforts at resistance. He had never seen suchstrongly-built women in his life: scarcely one of them but could easilyhave overthrown him, without stratagem, in single combat. The faces ofmany of them were familiar to him; but where had he seen them before?His memory failed him utterly, and he gave himself up to hisbewilderment. 

He looked around, and the scene was well calculated to affect a nervousmind. It was a fit scene for the painter of the supernatural. The smallapartment in which they were, was formed in great part from the naturalrock; where a fissure presented itself, a huge pine-tree, overthrown soas to fill the vacuity, completed what nature had left undone; and, bating the one or two rude cavities left here and there in thesides--themselves so covered as to lie hidden from all without--therewas all the compactness of a regularly-constructed dwelling. A singleand small lamp, pendent from a beam that hung over the room, gave afeeble light, which, taken in connection with that borrowed fromwithout, served only to make visible the dark indistinct of the place. With something dramatic in their taste, the old women had dressedthemselves in sombre habiliments, according to the general aspect of allthings around them; and, as the unfortunate pedler continued to gaze inwonderment, his fear grew with every progressive step in hisobservation. One by one, however, the old women commenced stirring, and, as they moved, now before and now behind him--his eyes following them onevery side--he at length discovered, amid the group, the small anddelicate form of the very being for whom he sought. 

There, indeed, were Lucy Munro and her aunt, holding a passive characterin the strange assembly. This was encouraging; and Bunce, forgetting hiswonder in the satisfaction which such a prospect afforded him, endeavored to force his way forward to them, when a salutary twitch ofthe arm from one of the beldam troop, by tumbling him backward upon thefloor of the cavern, brought him again to a consideration of hispredicament. He could not be restrained from speech, however--though, ashe spoke, the old women saluted his face on all hands with strokes frombrushes of fern, which occasioned him no small inconvenience. But he hadgone too far now to recede; and, in a broken manner--broken as much byhis own hurry and vehemence as by the interruptions to which he wassubjected--he contrived to say enough to Lucy of the situation ofColleton, to revive in her an interest of the most painful character. She rushed forward, and was about to ask more from the beleagueredpedler; but it was not the policy of those having both of them in chargeto permit such a proceeding. One of the stoutest of the old women nowcame prominently upon the scene, and, with a rough voice, which it isnot difficult to recognise as that of Munro, commanded the young girlaway, and gave her in charge to two attendants. But she struggled stillto hear, and Bunce all the while speaking, she was enabled to gathermost of the particulars in his narration before her removal waseffected. 

The mummery now ceased, and Bunce having been carried elsewhere, themaskers resumed their native apparel, having thrown aside that which hadbeen put on for a distinct purpose. The pedler, in another and moresecure department of the robbers' hiding-place, was solaced with theprospect of a long and dark imprisonment. 

In the meantime, our little friend Chub Williams had been made toundergo his own distinct punishment for his share in the adventure. Nosooner had Bunce been laid by the heels, than Rivers, who had directedthe whole, advanced from the shelter of the cave, in company with hislieutenant, Dillon, both armed with rifles, and, without saying a word, singling out the tree on which Chub had perched himself, took deliberateaim at the head of the unfortunate urchin. He saw the danger in aninstant, and his first words were characteristic: "Now don't--don't, now, I tell you, Mr. Guy--you may hit Chub!"

"Come down, then, you rascal!" was the reply, as, with a laugh, loweringthe weapon, he awaited the descent of the spy. "And now, Bur, what haveyou to say that I shouldn't wear out a hickory or two upon you?"

"My name ain't Bur, Mr. Guy; my name is Chub, and I don't like to becalled out of my name. Mother always called me Chub. "

"Well, Chub--since you like it best, though at best a bur--what were youdoing in that tree? How dare you spy into my dwelling, and send otherpeople there? Speak, or I'll skin you alive!"

"Now, don't, Mr. Guy! Don't, I beg you! 'Taint right to talk so, and Idon't like it!--But is that your dwelling, Mr. Guy, in truth?--youreally live in it, all the year round? Now, you don't, do you?"

The outlaw had no fierceness when contemplating the object before him. Strange nature! He seemed to regard the deformities of mind and body, inthe outcast under his eyes, as something kindred. Was there anythinglike sympathy in such a feeling? or was it rather that perversity oftemper which sometimes seems to cast an ennobling feature over violence, and to afford here and there, a touch of that moral sunshine which cannow and then give an almost redeeming expression to the countenance ofvice itself? He contemplated the idiot for a few moments with a closeeye, and a mind evidently busied in thought. Laying his hand, at length, on his shoulder, he was about to speak, when the deformed started backfrom the touch as if in horror--a feeling, indeed, fully visible inevery feature of his face. 

"Now, don't touch Chub, Mr. Guy! Mother said you were a dark man, andtold me to keep clear of you. Don't touch me agin, Mr. Guy; I don't likeit. "

The outlaw, musingly, spoke to his lieutenant: "And this is education. Who shall doubt its importance? who shall say that it does not overthrowand altogether destroy the original nature? The selfish mother of thismiserable outcast, fearing that he might be won away from his service toher, taught him to avoid all other persons, and even those who hadtreated her with kindness were thus described to this poor dependant. Tohim the sympathies of others would have been the greatest blessing; yetshe so tutored him, that, at her death, he was left desolate. You hearhis account of me, gathered, as he says, and as I doubt not, from herown lips. That account is true, so far as my other relationships withmankind are concerned; but not true as regards my connection with her. Ifurnished that old creature with food when she was starving, and whenthis boy, sick and impotent, could do little for her service. I neveruttered a harsh word in her ears, or treated her unkindly; yet this isthe character she gives of me--and this, indeed, the character which shehas given of all others. A feeling of the narrowest selfishness has ledher deliberately to misrepresent all mankind, and has been productive ofa more ungracious result, in driving one from his species, who, morethan any other, stands in need of their sympathy and association. "

While Rivers spoke thus, the idiot listened with an air of the moststupid attention. His head fell on one shoulder, and one hand partiallysustained it. As the former concluded his remarks, Chub recovered aposture as nearly erect as possible, and remarked, with as muchsignificance as could comport with his general expression--

"Chub's mother was good to Chub, and Mr. Guy mustn't say nothing aginher. "

"But, Chub, will you not come and live with me? I will give you a goodrifle--one like this, and you shall travel everywhere with me. "

"You will beat Chub when you are angry, and make him shoot people withthe rifle. I don't want it. If folks say harm to Chub, he can lick 'emwith his fists. Chub don't want to live with you. "

"Well, as you please. But come in and look at my house and see where Ilive. "

"And shall I see the strannger agin? I can lick _him_, and I told himso. But he called me Chub, and I made friends with him. "

"Yes, you shall see him, and--"

"And Miss Lucy, too--I want to see Miss Lucy--Chub saw her, and shespoke to Chub yesterday. "

The outlaw promised him all, and after this there was no furtherdifficulty. The unconscious idiot scrupled no longer, and followed hisconductors into--prison. It was necessary, for the further safety of theoutlaws in their present abode, that such should be the case. The secretof their hiding-place was in the possession of quite too many; and thesubject of deliberation among the leaders was now as to the propriety ofits continued tenure. The country, they felt assured, would soon beoverrun with the state troops. They had no fears of discovery from thissource, prior to the affair of the massacre of the guard, which renderednecessary the secretion of many in their retreat, who, before that time, were perfectly unconscious of its existence. In addition to this, it wasnow known to the pedler and the idiot, neither of whom had any reasonfor secrecy on the subject in the event of their being able to make itpublic. The difficulty, with regard to the two latter, subjected them tono small risk of suffering from the ultimate necessities of the rogues, and there was a sharp and secret consultation as to the mode ofdisposing of the two captives; but so much blood had been alreadyspilled, that the sense of the majority revolted at the further resortto that degree of violence--particularly, too, when it was recollectedthat they could only hold their citadel for a certain and short periodof time. It was determined, therefore, that so long as they themselvescontinued in their hiding-place, Bunce and Chub should, perforce, continue prisoners. Having so determined, and made their arrangementsaccordingly, the two last-made captives were assigned a cell, chosenwith reference to its greater security than the other portions of theirhold--one sufficiently tenacious of its trust, it would seem, to answerwell its purpose. 

In the meantime, the sufferings of Lucy Munro were such as may well beunderstood from the character of her feelings, as we have heretoforebeheld their expression. In her own apartment--her cell, we may styleit, for she was in a sort of honorable bondage--she brooded with deepmelancholy over the narrative given by the pedler. She had no reason todoubt its correctness, and, the more she meditated upon it, the moreacute became her misery. But a day intervened, and the trial of RalphColleton must take place; and, without her evidence, she was well awarethere could be no hope of his escape from the doom of felony--from thedeath of shame and physical agony. The whole picture grew up before herexcited fancy. She beheld the assembled crowd--she saw him borne toexecution--and her senses reeled beneath the terrible conjurations ofher fancy. She threw herself prostrate upon her couch, and strove not tothink, but in vain. Her mind, growing hourly more and more intenselyexcited, at length almost maddened, and she grew conscious herself--theworst of all kinds of consciousness--that her reason was no longersecure in its sovereignty. It was with a strong effort of the still-firmwill that she strove to meditate the best mode of rescuing the victimfrom the death suspended above him; and she succeeded, whiledeliberating on this object, in quieting the more subtle workings of herimagination. 

Many were the thoughts which came into her brain in this examination. Atone time she thought it not impossible to convey a letter, in which hertestimony should be carefully set down; but the difficulty of procuringa messenger, and the doubt that such a statement would prove of anyavail, decided her to seek for other means. An ordinary mind, and amoderate degree of interest in the fate of the individual, would havecontented itself with some such step; but such a mind and suchaffections were not those of the high-souled and spirited Lucy. Shedreaded not personal danger; and to rescue the youth, whom she so muchidolized, from the doom that threatened him, she would have willinglydared to encounter that doom itself, in its darkest forms. Shedetermined, therefore, to rely chiefly upon herself in all efforts whichshe should make for the purpose in view; and her object, therefore, wasto effect a return to the village in time to appear at the trial. 

Yet how should this be done? She felt herself to be a captive; she knewthe restraints upon her--and did not doubt that all her motions weresedulously observed. How then should she proceed? An agent wasnecessary; and, while deliberating with herself upon the difficulty thusassailing her at the outset, her ears were drawn to the distinctutterance of sounds, as of persons engaged in conversation, from theadjoining section of the rock. 

One of the voices appeared familiar, and at length she distinctly madeout her own name in various parts of the dialogue. She soondistinguished the nasal tones of the pedler, whose prison adjoined herown, separated only by a huge wall of earth and rock, the rude andjagged sides of which had been made complete, where naturally imperfect, for the purposes of a wall, by the free use of clay, which, plastered inhuge masses into the crevices and every fissure, was no inconsiderableapology for the more perfect structures of civilization. 

Satisfied, at length, from what she heard, that the two so confined werefriendly, she contrived to make them understand her contiguity, byspeaking in tones sufficiently low as to be unheard beyond the apartmentin which they were. In this way she was enabled to converse with thepedler, to whom all her difficulties were suggested, and to whom she didnot hesitate to say that she knew that which would not fail to save thelife of Colleton. 

Bunce was not slow to devise various measures for the further promotionof the scheme, none of which, however, served the purpose of showing toeither party how they should get out, and, but for the idiot, it is morethan probable, despairing of success, they would at length have thrownaside the hope of doing anything for the youth as perfectly illusory. 

But Chub came in as a prime auxiliar. From the first moment in which heheard the gentle tones of Lucy's voice, he had busied himself with hislong nails and fingers in removing the various masses of clay which hadbeen made to fill up sundry crevices of the intervening wall, and had sofar succeeded as to detach a large square of the rock itself, which, with all possible pains and caution, he lifted from the embrasure. Thisdone, he could distinguish objects, though dimly, from one apartment inthe other, and thus introduced the parties to a somewhat neareracquaintance with one another. Having done so much, he reposed from hislabors, content with a sight of Lucy, on whom he continued to gaze witha fixed and stupid admiration. 

He had pursued this work so noiselessly, and the maiden and Bunce hadbeen so busily employed in discussing their several plans, that they hadnot observed the vast progress which Chub had made toward furnishingthem with a better solution of their difficulties than any of their ownprevious cogitations. When Bunce saw how much had been done in onequarter, he applied himself resolutely to similar experiments on theopposite wall: and had the satisfaction of discovering that, as adungeon, the dwelling in which they were required to remain was sadlydeficient in some few of the requisites of security. With the aid of asmall pick of iron, which Lucy handed him from her cell, he pierced theouter wall in several places, in which the clay had been required to dothe offices of the rock, and had the satisfaction of perceiving, fromthe sudden influx of light in the apartment, succeeding his applicationof the instrument, that, with a small labor and in little time, theyshould be enabled to effect their escape, at least into the free air, and under the more genial vault of heaven. 

Having made this discovery, it was determined that nothing more shouldbe done until night, and having filled up the apertures which they hadmade, with one thing or another, they proceeded to consult, with moredeliberate composure, on the future progress. It was arranged that thenight should be permitted to set in fairly--that Lucy should retireearly, having first taken care that Munro and her aunt, with whom shemore exclusively consorted--Rivers having kept very much out of sightsince her removal--should see her at the evening meal, without anydeparture from her usual habits. Bunce undertook to officiate as guide, and as Chub expressed himself willing to do whatever Miss Lucy shouldtell him, it was arranged that he should remain, occasionally makinghimself heard in his cell, as if in conversation, for as long a periodafter their departure as might be thought necessary to put themsufficiently in advance of pursuit--a requisition to which Chub readilygave his consent. He was the only one of the party who appeared toregard the whole matter with comparative indifference. He knew that aman was in danger of his life--he felt that he himself was in prison, and he said he would rather be out among the pine-trees--but there wasno rush of feeling, such as troubled the heart of the young girl, whosespirit, clothing itself in all the noblest habiliments of humanity, lifted her up into the choicest superiority of character--nor had thedwarf that anxiety to do a service to his fellow, which made the pedlerthrow aside some of his more worldly characteristics--he did simply ashe was bid, and had no further care. 

Miss Lucy, he said, talked sweetly, like his mother, and Chub would dofor Miss Lucy anything that she asked him. The principle of hisgovernment was simple, and having chosen a sovereign, he did notwithhold his obedience. Thus stood the preparations of the threeprisoners, when darkness--long-looked-for, and hailed with tremblingemotions--at length came down over the silent homestead of the outlaws. 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

ESCAPE. 

The night gathered apace, and the usual hour of repose had come. Lucyretired to her apartment with a trembling heart but a courageous spirit, full of a noble determination to persevere in her project. Though fullof fear, she never for a moment thought of retreat from the decisionwhich she had made. Her character afforded an admirable model for thenot unfrequent union that we find in woman, of shrinking delicacy withmanly and efficient firmness. 

Munro and Rivers, having first been assured that all was quiet, by aramble which they took around their hiding-place, returned to the littlechamber of the latter, such as we have described it in a previousportion of our narrative, and proceeded to the further discussion oftheir plans. The mind of the landlord was very ill at ease. He hadarrived at that time of life when repose and a fixed habitation becamenecessary; and when, whatever may have been the habits of earliermanhood, the mind ceases to crave the excitements of adventure, andforegoes, or would fain forego, all its roving characteristics. To thisstate of feeling had he come, and the circumstances which now denied himthe fruition of that prospect of repose which he had been promisinghimself so long, were regarded with no little restlessness andimpatience. At the moment, the colleagues could make no positivearrangements for the future. Munro was both to give up the propertywhich, in one way or other, he had acquired in the neighborhood, andwhich it was impossible for him to remove to any other region; and, strange to say, a strong feeling of inhabitiveness--the love of home--ifhome he could be thought to have anywhere--might almost be considered apassion with his less scrupulous companion. 

Thus situated, they lingered on in the hope that the military would soonbe withdrawn from the neighborhood, as it could only be maintained atgreat expense by the state; and then, as the country was but nominallysettled, and so sparsely as to scarcely merit any consideration, theyfelt assured that they might readily return to their old, or anypractices, and without any further apprehension. The necessity, however, which made them thus deliberate, had the effect, at the same time, ofimpressing them with a gloomy spirit, not common to either of them. 

"Let us see, Munro, " said the more desperate ruffian; "there is, afterall, less to apprehend than we first thought. In a week, and the courtwill be over; in another week, and the guard will be withdrawn; and forthis period only will it be necessary that we should keep dark. I thinkwe are now perfectly safe where we are. The only persons who know of ourretreat, and might be troublesome, are safe in our possession. They willhardly escape until we let them, and before we do so we shall first seethat they can give us no further necessity for caution. Of our ownparty, none are permitted to know the secrets of our hiding-place, butthose in whom we may trust confidently. I have taken care to provide forthe doubtful at some distance in the adjoining woods, exaggerating sogreatly the danger of exposure, that they will hardly venture to be seenunder any circumstances by anybody. Once let these two weeks go over, and I have no fears; we shall have no difficulties then. "

"And what's to be done with the pedler and the fool? I say, Guy, theremust be no more blood--I will not agree to it. The fact is, I feel moreand more dismal every day since that poor fellow's death; and now thatthe youngster's taken, the thought is like fire in my brain, which tellsme he may suffer for our crime. "

"Why, you are grown parson. Would you go and save him, by giving up thetrue criminal? I shall look for it after this, and consider myself nolonger in safety. If you go on in this manner, I shall begin to meditatean off-hand journey to the Mississippi. "

"Ay, and the sooner we all go the better--though, to be plain, Guy, letthis affair once blow over and I care not to go with _you_ any longer. We must then cut loose for ever. I am not a good man, I know--anythingbut that; but you have carried me on, step by step, until I am what I amafraid to name to myself. You found me a rogue--you have made me a--"

"Why do you hesitate? Speak it out, Munro; it is a large step gainedtoward reform when we learn to name truly our offences to ourselves. "

"I dare not. The thought is sufficiently horrible without the thing. Ihear some devil whispering it too frequently in my ears, to venture uponits utterance myself. But you--how you can live without feeling it, after your experience, which has been so much more dreadful than mine, Iknow not. "

"I do feel it, Munro, but have long since ceased to fear it. Thereiteration takes away the terror which is due rather to the noveltythan to the offence. But when I began, I felt it. The first sleep I hadafter the affair of Jessup was full of tortures. The old man, I thought, lay beside me in my bed; his blood ran under me, and clotted around me, and fastened me there, while his gashed face kept peering into mine, andhis eyes danced over me with the fierce light of a threatening comet. The dream nearly drove me mad, and mad I should have been had I gone tomy prayers. I knew that, and chose a different course for relief. "

"What was that?"

"I sought for another victim as soon after as I conveniently could. Theone spectre superseded the other, until all vanished. They never troubleme now, though sometimes, in my waking moments, I have met them on theroadside, glaring at me from bush or tree, until I shouted at themfiercely, and then they were gone. These are my terrors, and they dosometimes unman me. "

"They would do more with me; they would destroy me on the spot. But, letus have no more of this. Let us rather see if we can not do somethingtowards making our visions more agreeable. Do you persevere in thesacrifice of this youngster? Must he die?"

"Am I a child, Walter Munro, that you ask me such a question? Must Iagain tell over the accursed story of my defeat and of his success? MustI speak of my thousand defeats--of my overthrown pretensions--my blastedhopes, where I had set my affections--upon which every feeling of myheart had been placed? Must I go over a story so full of pain andhumiliation--must I describe my loss, in again placing before your eyesa portraiture like this? Look, man, look--and read my answer in thesmile, which, denying me, teaches me, in this case, to arm myself with adenial as immutable as hers. "

He placed before his companion the miniature of Edith, which he tookfrom his bosom, where he seemed carefully to treasure it. He was againthe envenomed and the excited savage which we have elsewhere seen him, and in which mood Munro knew well that nothing could be done with him inthe shape of argument or entreaty. He went on:--

"Ask me no questions, Munro, so idle, so perfectly unnecessary as this. Fortune has done handsomely here. He falls through _me_, yet falls bythe common hangman. What a double blow is this to both of them. I havebeen striving to imagine their feelings, and such a repast as thateffort has procured me--I would not exchange it--no--not for worlds--fornothing less, Munro, than my restoration back to that society--to thatplace in society, from which my fierce passions, and your cruelpromptings, and the wrongs of society itself, have for ever exiled me. "

"And would you return, if you could do so?"

"To-morrow--to-night--this instant. I am sanguinary, Munro--revengeful--fierce--all that is bad, because I am not permittedto be better. My pride, my strong feelings and deeply absorbingmood--these have no other field for exercise. The love of home, the highambition, which, had society done me common justice, and had not, inenslaving itself, dishonored and defrauded me--would, under othercircumstances, have made me a patriot. My pride is even now to commandthe admiration of men--I never sought their love. Their approbationwould have made me fearless and powerful in their defence and for theirrights--their injustice makes me their enemy. My passions, unprovokedand unexaggerated by mortifying repulses, would have only been a warmand stimulating influence, perpetually working in their service--but, pressed upon and irritated as they have been they grew into so many wildbeasts, and preyed upon the cruel or the careless keepers, whose gentletreatment and constant attention had tamed them into obedient servants. Yet, would I could, even now, return to that condition in which theremight be hope. The true spectre of the criminal--such as I am--thecriminal chiefly from the crimes and injustice of society, notforgetting the education of my boyhood, which grew out of the samecrimes, and whose most dreadful lesson is selfishness--is despair! Theblack waters once past, the blacker hills rise between, and there is noreturn to those regions of hope, which, once lost, are lost for ever. This is the true punishment--the worst punishment which man inflictsupon his fellow--the felony of public opinion. The curse of society isno unfit illustration of that ban which its faith holds forth as thepenal doom of the future. There is no return!"

The dialogue, mixed up thus, throughout, with the utterance of opinionson the part of the outlaw, many of which were true or founded in truth, yet coupled with many false deductions--was devoted, for some littlewhile longer, to the discussion of their various necessities and plansfor the future. The night had considerably advanced in this way, when, of a sudden, their ears were assailed with an eldritch screech, likethat of the owl, issuing from one of the several cells around them. 

The quick sense of Rivers immediately discerned the voice of the idiot, and without hesitation he proceeded to that division of the rock whichcontained the two prisoners. To each of these apartments had beenassigned a sentinel, or watch, whose own place of abode--while coveredcompletely and from sight, and in all respects furnishing a dwelling, though rather a confined one for himself--enabled him to attend to theduty assigned him without himself being seen. The night had been fairlyset in, when Bunce, with the aid of Chub Williams, with all due cautionproceeded to his task, and with so much success, that, in the course ofa couple of hours, they had succeeded, not only in making a fair outletfor themselves, but for Lucy Munro too. 

The watchman, in the meantime, holding his duty as merely nominal, gavehimself as little trouble as possible; and believing all things quiet, had, after a little while, insinuated himself into the good graces of asattractive a slumber as may usually be won in the warm summer season inthe south, by one to whom a nightwatch is a peculiarly ungraciousexercise. Before this conclusion, however, he looked forth every now andthen, and deceived by the natural stillness of earth and sky, hecommitted the further care of the hours, somewhat in anticipation of thetime, to the successor who was to relieve him on the watch. 

Without being conscious of this decision in their favor, and ignorantentirely of the sentinel himself, the pedler fortunately chose thisperiod for his own departure with the young lady whom he was to escort;and who, with probably far less fear than her gallant, did not scruple, for a single instant, to go forth under his guidance. Chub took hisinstructions from the lips of Lucy, and promised the most implicitobedience. 

They had scarcely been well gone when the sentinels were changed, andone something more tenacious of discipline, or something less drowsythan his predecessor, took his place. After muttering at intervals, asdirected, for the space of an hour, probably, from the time at which hiscompanion had departed, Chub thought it only prudent to sally forth too. Accordingly, ascending to the break in the wall, through which hiscompanion had made his way, the urchin emerged from the cavern at theunlucky moment, when, at some ten or fifteen paces in front of him, thesentinel came forth from his niche to inspect the order of his watch. Chub saw his adversary first, and his first impulse originated thescream which drew the attention of Rivers, as already narrated. Theoutlaw rushed quickly to the scene of difficulty, and before thesentinel had well recovered from the astonishment occasioned by thesingularly sudden appearance and wild screech of the urchin. 

"Why, what is this, Briggs; what see you?" was the hasty inquiry ofRivers. 

"There, sir, there, " exclaimed the watch, still half bewildered, andpointing to the edge of the hill, where, in a condition seemingly ofequal incertitude with himself, stood the imbecile. 

"Seize upon him--take him at once--let him not escape you!" were thehasty orders of the outlaw. Briggs set forward, but his approach had theeffect of giving determination also to Chub; who, just as the pursuerthought himself sure of his captive, and was indeed indirectly upon him, doubled himself up, as it were into a complete ball, and without effortrolled headlong down the hill; gathering upon his feet as he attainedthe level, seemingly unhurt, and with all the agility of the monkey. 

"Shall I shoot, sir?" was the inquiry of Briggs, as the urchin stoodoff, laughing wildly at his good fortune. 

"Now, don't"--was the cry--"Now, don't"--was the exclamation of Chubhimself, who, however, trusting nothing to the effect of his entreaty, ran vigorously on his way. 

"Yes, shoot him down, " was the sudden exclamation of Munro; but Riversstruck the poised weapon upward in the hands of the sentinel, to theastonishment, not less of him than of the landlord. 

"No--let him live, Munro. Let him live. Such as he should be spared. Ishe not alone--without fellowship--scorned--an outcast--withoutsympathy--like myself. Let him live, let him live!"

The word of mercy from his lips utterly confounded his companion. But, remembering that Rivers was a monster of contradictions, Munro turnedaway, and gave directions to see after the other prisoners. 

A few moments sufficed for this, and the panic was universal among theinmates of the rock. The secret was now lost, unless immediate pursuitcould avail in the recovery of the fugitives. This pursuit wasimmediately undertaken, and both Rivers and Munro, taking differentdirections, and dispersing their whole force about the forest, set offon the search. 

Apprehensive of pursuit, the policy of Bunce, to whom Lucy gave up theentire direction of their flight, was determined upon with not a littlejudgment. Assured that his pursuers would search chiefly on the directroute between their abode and the village, to which they wouldnecessarily surmise the flight was directed, he boldly determined upon acourse, picked sinuously out, obliquing largely from the true direction, which, while it would materially lengthen the distance, would at leastsecure them, he thought, from the danger of contact with the scouringparty. 

By no means ignorant of the country, in and about which he hadfrequently travelled in the pursuit of trade, he contrived, in this way, completely to mislead the pursuers; and the morning found them stillsome distance from the village, but in a direction affording few chancesof interruption in their contemplated approach to it. 

Lucy was dreadfully fatigued, and a frequent sense of weariness almostpersuaded her to lay down life itself in utter exhaustion: but theencouraging words of the pedler, and the thought of _his_ peril, forwhose safety--though herself hopeless of all besides--she wouldwillingly peril all, restored her, and invigorated her to renewedeffort. 

At the dawn of day they approached a small farmhouse, some of theinmates of which happened to know Lucy; and, though they looked somewhataskant at her companion, and wondered not a little at the circumstanceof her travelling at such a time of night, yet, as she was generallywell respected, their surmises and scruples were permitted to sleep;and, after a little difficulty, they were persuaded to lend her thefamily pony and side-saddle, with the view to the completion of herjourney. After taking some slight refreshment, she hurried on; Bunce, keeping the road afoot, alongside, with all the patient docility of asquire of the middle ages; and to the great satisfaction of all parties, they arrived in sight of the village just as Counsellor Pippin, learnedin the law, was disputing with the state attorney upon thenon-admissibility of certain points of testimony, which it was thepolicy of the former to exclude. 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

DOOM. 

The village of Chestatee was crowded with visiters of all descriptions. Judges and lawyers, soldiers and citizens and farmers--all classes wereduly represented, and a more wholesome and subordinate disposition inthat quarter, may be inferred as duly resulting from the crowd. Curiosity brought many to the spot from portions of country twenty, thirty, and even forty miles off--for, usually well provided with goodhorses, the southron finds a difference of ten or twenty miles no greatmatter. 

Such had been the reputation of the region here spoken of, not less forits large mineral wealth than for the ferocious character of those inits neighborhood, that numbers, who would not otherwise have adventured, now gladly took advantage of the great excitement, and the presence ofso many, to examine a section of country of which they had heard somuch. There came the planter, of rather more wealth than his neighbors, solicitous for some excitement and novelty to keep himself from utterstagnation. There came the farmer, discontented with his presentabiding-place, and in search of a new spot of more promise, in which todrive stakes and do better. The lawyer, from a neighboring county, insearch of a cause; the creditor in search of his runaway debtor--thejudge and the jury also adding something, not less to the number thanthe respectability of the throng. 

The grand-jury had found several bills, and most of them for the moreaggravated offences in the estimation of the law. Rivers, Munro, Blundell, Forrester, were all severally and collectively included intheir inquiries; but as none of the parties were to be found for thepresent at least, as one of them had been removed to another and higherjurisdiction, the case of most importance left for trial was that whichcharged Colleton with Forrester's murder. 

There was no occasion for delay; and, in gloomy and half-despondingmood, though still erect and unshrinking to the eye of the beholder, Ralph refused the privilege of a traverse, and instructed Pippin to goon with the case. The lawyer himself had not the slightest objection tothis procedure, for, not to be harsh in our estimate of his humanities, there is no reason to believe that he regarded for a single instant thevalue of his client's life, but as its preservation was to confer creditupon his capacity as his legal friend and adviser. The issue wasconsequently made up without delay--the indictment was read--theprisoner put himself upon God and the country, according to the usualforms, and the case proceeded. 

The general impression of the spectators was decidedly in favor of theaccused. His youth--the noble bearing--the ease, the unobtrusiveconfidence--the gentle expression, pliant and, though sad, yet entirelyfree from anything like desponding weakness--all told in his favor. Hewas a fine specimen of the southern gentleman--the true nobleman of thatregion, whose pride of character is never ostentatiously displayed andis only to be felt in the influence which it invariably exercises overall with whom it may have contact or connection. Though firm in everyexpression, and manly in every movement, there was nothing in the habitand appearance of Ralph, which, to the eye of those around, savored ofthe murderer. There was nothing ruffianly or insincere. But, as thetestimony proceeded--when the degree of intimacy was shown which hadexisted between himself and the murdered man--when they heard thatForrester had brought him wounded and fainting to his home--had attendedhim--had offered even to fight for him with Rivers; when all these factswere developed, in connection with the sudden flight of the person sobefriended--on the same night with him who had befriended him--he havinga knowledge of the proposed departure of the latter-and with the findingof the bloody dagger marked with the youth's initials--the feeling ofsympathy very perceptibly underwent a change. The people, proverbiallyfickle, and, in the present instance justifiably so, veered round to theopposite extreme of opinion, and a confused buzz around, sometimes madesufficiently audible to all senses, indicated the unfavorable characterof the change. The witnesses were closely examined, and the story wascomplete and admirably coherent. The presumptions, as they were coupledtogether, were conclusive; and, when it was found that not a solitarywitness came forward even to say that the accused was a man of characterand good connections--a circumstance which could not materially affectthe testimony as it stood, but which, wanting, gave it additionalforce--the unhappy youth, himself, felt that all was over. 

A burning flush, succeeded by a deathlike paleness, came over his facefor a moment--construed by those around into a consciousness of guilt;for, where the prejudices of men become active, all appearances ofchange, which go not to affect the very foundation of the bias, are onlyadditional proofs of what they have before believed. He rested his headupon his hands in deep but momentary agony. What were his feelings then?With warm, pure emotions; with a pride only limited by a true sense ofpropriety; with an ambition whose eye was sunward ever; with affectionswhich rendered life doubly desirable, and which made love a high andholy aspiration: with these several and predominating feelingsstruggling in his soul, to be told of such a doom; to be stricken fromthe respect of his fellows; to forfeit life, and love, and reputation;to undergo the punishment of the malefactor, and to live in memory onlyas a felon--ungrateful, foolish, fiendish--a creature of dishonestpassions, and mad and merciless in their exercise!

The tide of thought which bore to his consciousness all these harrowingconvictions, was sudden as the wing of the lightning, and nearlyshattered, in that single instant, the towering manhood whose highreachings had attracted it. But the pride consequent to his education, and the society in which he had lived, came to his relief; and, afterthe first dreadful agony of soul, he again stood erect, and listened, seemingly unmoved, to the defences set up by his counsel. 

But how idle, even to his mind, desirous as he must have been of everyspecies of defence, were all the vainglorious mouthings of thepettifogger! He soon discovered that the ambition of Pippin chieflyconsisted in the utterance of his speech. He saw, too, in a littlewhile, that the nonsense of the lawyer had not even the solitarymerit--if such it be--of being extemporaneous; and in the slow andmonotonous delivery of a long string of stale truisms, not bearing anyanalogy to the case in hand, he perceived the dull elaborations of thecloset. 

But such was not the estimate of the lawyer himself. He knew what he wasabout; and having satisfied himself that the case was utterly hopeless, he was only solicitous that the people should see that he could stillmake a speech. He well knew that his auditory, perfectly assured withhimself of the hopelessness of the defence, would give him the credit ofhaving made the most of his materials, and this was all he wanted. Inthe course of his exhortations, however, he was unfortunate enough tomake an admission for his client which was, of itself, fatal; and hisargument thence became unnecessary. He admitted that the circumstancessufficiently established the charge of killing, but proceeded, however, to certain liberal assumptions, without any ground whatever, ofprovocation on the part of Forrester, which made his murder only matterof self-defence on the side of the accused, whose crime therefore becamejustifiable: but Ralph, who had for some time been listening withmanifest impatience to sundry other misrepresentations, not equally evilwith this, but almost equally annoying, now rose and interrupted him;and, though the proceeding was something informal, proceeded to correctthe statement. 

"No one, may it please your honor, and you, gentlemen, now presidingover my fate, can be more conscious than myself, from the nature of theevidence given in this case, of the utter hopelessness of any defencewhich may be offered on my behalf. But, while recognising, in theirfullest force, the strong circumstantial proofs of crime which you haveheard, I may be permitted to deny for myself what my counsel has beenpleased to admit for me. To say that I have _not_ been guilty of thiscrime, is only to repeat that which was said when I threw myself uponthe justice of the country. I denied any knowledge of it then--I denyany knowledge of, or participation in it, now. I am _not_ guilty of thiskilling, whether with or without justification. The blood of theunfortunate man Forrester is _not_ upon my hands; and, whatever may beyour decree this day, of this sweet consciousness nothing can depriveme. "

"I consider, may it please your honor, that my counsel, having virtuallyabandoned my cause, I have the right to go on with it myself--"

But Pippin, who had been dreadfully impatient heretofore, startedforward with evident alarm. 

"Oh, no--no, your honor--my client--Mr. Colleton--how can you think sucha thing? I have not, your honor, abandoned the case. On the contrary, your honor will remember that it was while actually proceeding with thecase that I was interrupted. "

The youth, with a singular degree of composure, replied:--

"Your honor will readily understand me, though the gentleman of the bardoes not. I conceive him not only to have abandoned the case, yourhonor, but actually to have joined hand and hand with the prosecutingcounsel. It is true, sir, that he still calls himself _my_ counsel--andstill, under that name, presumes to harangue, as he alleges, in mybehalf; but, when he violates the truth, not less than myinstructions--when he declares all that is alleged against me in thatpaper _to be true_, all of which I declare to be _false_--when he admitsme to be guilty of a crime of which I am _not_ guilty--I say that he hasnot only abandoned my case, but that he has betrayed the trust reposedin him. What, your honor, must the jury infer from the confession whichhe has just made?--what, but that in my conference with him _I_ havemade the same confession? It becomes necessary, therefore, may it pleaseyour honor, not only that I take from him, thus openly, the power whichI confided to him, but that I call upon your honor to demand from him, upon oath, whether such an admission was ever made to him by me. I knowthat my own words will avail me nothing here--I also know why theyshould not--but I am surely entitled to require that he should speakout, as to the truth, when _his_ misrepresentations are to make weightagainst me in future. His oath, that I made no such confession to him, will avail nothing for my defence, but will avail greatly with thosewho, from present appearances, are likely to condemn me. I call uponhim, may it please your honor, as matter of right, that he should be_sworn_ to this particular. This, your honor will perceive, if myassertion be true, is the smallest justice which he can do me; beyondthis I will ask and suggest nothing--leaving it to your own mind how farthe license of his profession should be permitted to one who thus notonly abandons, but betrays and misrepresents his client. "

The youth was silent, and Pippin rose to speak in his defence. Withoutbeing sworn, he admitted freely that such a confession had not beenmade, but that he had inferred the killing from the nature of thetestimony, which he thought conclusive on the point; that his object hadbeen to suggest a probable difficulty between the parties, in which hewould have shown Forrester as the aggressor. He bungled on for some timelonger in this manner, but, as he digressed again into the defence ofthe accused, Ralph again begged to interrupt him. 

"I think it important, may it please your honor, that the gentlemanshould be sworn as to the simple fact which he has uttered. _I want iton record_, that, at some future day, the few who have any interest inmy fate should feel no mortifying doubts of my innocence when remindedof the occurrence--which this strange admission, improperly circulated, might otherwise occasion. Let him swear, your honor, to the fact: this, I think, I may require. "

After a few moments of deliberation, his honor decided that the demandwas one of right, strictly due, not merely to the prisoner and to theabstract merits of the case, but also to the necessity which such anevent clearly occasioned, of establishing certain governing principlesfor restraining those holding situations so responsible, who should sofar wilfully betray their trusts. The lawyer was made to go through thehumiliating process, and then subjected to a sharp reprimand from thejudge; who, indeed, might have well gone further, in actually strikinghis name from the rolls of court. 

It was just after this interesting period in the history of thetrial--and when Pippin, who could not be made to give up the case, asRalph had required, was endeavoring to combat with the attorney of thestate some incidental points of doctrine, and to resist theirapplication to certain parts of the previously, recorded testimony--thatour heroine, Lucy Munro, attended by her trusty squire, Bunce, made herappearance in the courthouse. 

She entered the hall more dead than alive. The fire was no longer in hereye--a thick haze had overspread its usually rich and lustrousexpression; her form trembled with the emotion--the strong andstruggling emotion of her soul; and fatigue had done much toward thegeneral enervation of her person. The cheek was pale with the innateconsciousness; the lips were blanched, and slightly parted, as ifwanting in the muscular exercise which could bring them together. Shetottered forward to the stand upon which the witnesses were usuallyassembled, and to which her course had been directed, and for a fewmoments after her appearance in the courtroom her progress had been asone stunned by a sudden and severe blow. 

But, when roused by the confused hum of human voices around her, sheventured to look up, and her eye, as if by instinct, turned upon thedark box assigned for the accused--she again saw the form, in her mindand eye, of almost faultless mould and excellence--then there was nomore weakness, no more struggle. Her eye kindled, the color rushed intoher cheeks, a sudden spirit reinvigorated her frame; and, with claspedhands, she boldly ascended the small steps which led to the stand fromwhich her evidence was to be given, and declared her ability, in lowtones, almost unheard but by the judge, to furnish matter of interestand importance to the defence. Some little demur as to the formality ofsuch a proceeding, after the evidence had been fairly closed, took placebetween the counsel; but, fortunately for justice, the judge was toowise and too good a man to limit the course of truth to prescribedrules, which could not be affected by a departure, in the presentinstance, from their restraints. The objection was overruled, and thebold but trembling girl was called upon for her testimony. 

A new hope had been breathed into the bosoms of the parties mostconcerned, on the appearance of this interruption to the headlong andimpelling force of the circumstances so fatally arrayed against theprisoner. The pedler was overjoyed, and concluded that the danger wasnow safely over. The youth himself felt his spirit much lighter in hisbosom, although he himself knew not the extent of that testimony in hisfavor which Lucy was enabled to give. He only knew that she couldaccount for his sudden flight on the night of the murder, leading to afair presumption that he had not premeditated such an act; and knew notthat it was in her power to overthrow the only fact, among thecircumstances arrayed against him, by which they had been so connectedas to make out his supposed guilt. 

Sanguine, herself, that the power was in her to effect the safety of theaccused, Lucy had not for a moment considered the effect upon others, more nearly connected with her than the youth, of the development whichshe was prepared to make. These considerations were yet to come. 

The oath was administered; she began her narration, but at the veryoutset, the difficulties of her situation beset her. How was she to savethe man she loved? How, but by showing the guilt of her uncle? How wasshe to prove that the dirk of the youth was not in his possession at thetime of the murder? By showing that, just before that time, it was inthe possession of Munro, who was setting forth for the express purposeof murdering the very man, now accused and held guilty of the samecrime. The fearful gathering of thoughts and images, thus, withoutpreparation, working in her mind, again destroyed the equilibrium bywhich her truer senses would have enforced her determination to proceed. Her head swam, her words were confused and incoherent, and perpetuallycontradictory. The hope which her presence had inspired as suddenlydeparted; and pity and doubt were the prevailing sentiments of thespectators. 

After several ineffectual efforts to proceed, she all at once seemedinformed of the opinions around her, and gathering new courage from thedreadful thought now forcing itself upon her mind, that what she hadsaid had done nothing toward her object, she exclaimed impetuously, advancing to the judge, and speaking alternately from him to the juryand the counsel--

"He is _not_ guilty of this crime, believe me. I may not say what Iknow--I can not--you would not expect me to reveal it. It would involveothers whom I dare not name. I must not say _that_--but, believe me, Mr. Colleton is not guilty--he did not commit the murder--it was somebodyelse--I know, I will swear, he had no hand in the matter. "

"Very well, my young lady, I have no doubt you think, and honestlybelieve, all that you say; but what reasons have you for this boldassertion in the teeth of all the testimony which has already beengiven? You must not be surprised, if we are slow in believing what youtell us, until you can show upon what grounds you make your statement. How know you that the prisoner did not commit this crime? Do you knowwho did? Can you reveal any facts for our knowledge? This is what youmust do. Do not be terrified--speak freely--officer! a chair for thelady--tell us all that you know--keep nothing back--remember, you aresworn to speak _the truth_--the _whole truth_. "

The judge spoke kindly and encouragingly, while, with considerableemphasis, he insisted upon a full statement of all she knew. But thedistress of the poor girl increased with every moment of thought, whichwarned her of the predicament in which such a statement must necessarilyinvolve her uncle. "Oh, how can I speak all this? How can I tell thatwhich must destroy him--"

"Him?--Of whom do you speak, lady? Who is _he_?" inquired the attorneyof the state. 

"He--who?--Oh, no, I can say nothing. I can tell you nothing. I knownothing but that Mr. Colleton is _not_ guilty. He struck no blow atForrester. I am sure of it--some other hand--some other person. How canyou believe that he would do so?"

There was no such charitable thought for him, however, in the minds ofthose who heard--as how should there be? A whispering dialogue now tookplace between the judge and the counsel, in which, while they evidentlylooked upon her as little better than demented with her love for theaccused, they still appeared to hold it due to justice, not less than tohumanity, to obtain from her every particular of testimony bearing onthe case, which, by possibility, she might really have in herpossession. Not that they really believed that she knew anything whichmight avail the prisoner. Regarding her as individually and warmlyinterested in his life, they looked upon her appearance, and theevidence which she tendered--if so it might be styled--as solelyintended to provoke sympathy, gain time, or, possibly, as the mereebullition of feelings so deeply excited as to have utterly passed thebounds of all restraining reason. The judge, who was a good, not lessthan a sensible man, undertook, in concluding this conference, to pursuethe examination himself, with the view to bringing out such portions ofher information as delicacy or some other more influential motive mightpersuade her to conceal. 

"You are sure, Miss Munro, of the innocence of the prisoner so sure thatyou are willing to swear to it. Such is your conviction, at least; for, unless you saw the blow given by another hand, or could prove Mr. Colleton to have been elsewhere at the time of the murder, of course youcould not, of a certainty, swear to any such fact. You are not now tosay whether you believe him _capable_ of such an act or not. You are tosay whether you _know_ of any circumstances which shall acquit him ofthe charge, or furnish a plausible reason, why others, not less thanyourself, should have a like reason with yourself to believe himinnocent. Can you do this, Miss Munro? Can you show anything, in thischain of circumstances, against him, which, of your own knowledge, youcan say to be untrue? Speak out, young lady, and rely upon everyindulgence from the court. "

Here the judge recapitulated all the evidence which had been furnishedagainst the prisoner. The maiden listened with close attention, and thedifficulties of her situation became more and more obvious. Finding herslow to answer, though her looks were certainly full of meaning, thepresiding officer took another course for the object which he had inview. He now proceeded to her examination in the following form:--

"You know the prisoner?"

"I do. "

"You knew the murdered man?"

"Perfectly. "

"Were they frequently together since the appearance of the prisoner inthese regions?"

"Frequently. "

"At the house in which you dwell?"

"Yes. "

"Were they together on the day preceding the night of the murder?"

"They were--throughout the better portion of it. "

"Did they separate at your place of residence, and what was theemployment of the prisoner subsequently on the same day?"

"They did separate while at our house, Mr. Colleton retiring at an earlyhour of the evening to his chamber. "

"So far, Miss Munro, your answers correspond directly with the evidence, and now come the important portions. You will answer briefly anddistinctly. After that, did you see anything more of the prisoner, andknow you of his departure from the house--the hour of the night--theoccasion of his going--and the circumstances attending it?"

These questions were, indeed, all important to the female delicacy ofthe maiden, as well as to the prisoner, and as her eye sunk inconfusion, and as her cheek paled and kindled with the innateconsciousness, the youth, who had hitherto been silent, now rose, andwithout the slightest hesitancy of manner, requested of the maiden thatshe would say no more. 

"See you not, your honor, that her mind wavers--that she speaks andthinks wildly? I am satisfied that though she might say something, yourhonor, in accounting for my strange flight, yet, as that constitutes buta small feature in the circumstances against me, what she can allegewill avail me little. Press her no farther, therefore, I entreat you. Let her retire. Her word can do me no good, and I would not, that, formy sake and life, she should feel, for a single instant an embarrassmentof spirit, which, though it be honorable in its character, mustnecessarily be distressing in its exercise. Proceed with your judgment, I pray you--whatever it may be; I am now ready for the worst, and thoughinnocent as the babe unborn of the crime urged against me, I am notafraid to meet its consequences. I am not unwilling to die. "

"But you must _not_ die--they will not--they _can not_ find you guilty!How know they you are guilty? Who dares say you are guilty, when _I_know you are innocent? Did I not see you fly? Did I not send you on yourway--was it not to escape from murder yourself that you flew, and howshould you have been guilty of that crime of which you were the destinedvictim yourself? Oh, no--no! you are not guilty--and the dagger--I heardthat!--that is not true--oh, no, the dagger, --you dropt it--"

The eye of the inspired girl was caught by a glance--a singleglance--from one at the opposite corner of the court-room, and thatglance brought her back to the full consciousness of the fearfuldevelopment she was about to make. A decrepit old woman, resting withbent form upon a staff, which was planted firmly before her, seemedwrapped in the general interest pervading the court. The woman was hugeof frame and rough of make; her face was large and swollen, and thetattered cap and bonnet, the coarse and soiled materials which she wore, indicated one of the humblest caste in the country. Her appearanceattracted no attention, and she was unmarked by all around; few havingeyes for anything but the exciting business under consideration. 

But the disguise did not conceal her uncle from the glance of his niece. That one look had the desired effect--the speech was arrested before itsconclusion, and the spectators, now more than ever assured of thepartial sanity of the witness, gave up any doubts which had previouslybegan to grow in behalf of the accused. A second look of the landlordwas emphatic enough for the purpose of completely silencing her fartherevidence. She read in its fearful expression, as plainly as if spoken inwords--"The next syllable you utter is fatal to your uncle--your father. Now speak, Lucy, if you can. "

For a single moment she was dumb and stationary--her eye turned from heruncle to the prisoner. Horror, and the agonies natural to the strife inher bosom, were in its wild expression, and, with a single cry of "I cannot--I must not save him!" from her pallid lips, she sunk down senselessupon the floor, and was borne out by several of the more sympathizingspectators. 

There was nothing now to delay the action of the court. The counsel hadclosed with the argument, and the judge proceeded in his charge to thejury. His remarks were rather favorable than otherwise to the prisoner. He dwelt upon his youth--his manliness--the seeming excellence of hiseducation, and the propriety which had marked his whole behavior ontrial. These he spoke of as considerations which must, of course, makethe duty, which they had to perform, more severely painful to all. Butthey could not do away with the strong and tenacious combination ofcircumstances against him. These were all closely knit, and all tendedstrongly to the conviction of the guilt of the accused. Still they werecircumstantial; and the doubts of the jury were, of course, so manyarguments on the side of mercy. He concluded. 

But the jury had no doubts. How should they doubt? They deliberated, indeed, for form's sake, but not long. In a little while they returnedto their place, and the verdict was read by the clerk. 

"Guilty. "

"Guilty, " responded the prisoner, and for a moment his head dropped uponhis clasped hands, and his frame shivered as with an ague. 

"Guilty--guilty--Oh, my father--Edith--Edith--have I lived for this?"

There was no other sign of human weakness. He arose with composure, andfollowed, with firm step, the officer to his dungeon. His only thoughtwas of the sorrows and the shame of others--of those of whom he had beenthe passion and the pride--of that father's memory and name, of whom hehad been the cherished hope--of that maiden of whom he had been thecherished love. His firm, manly bearing won the esteem of all those who, nevertheless, at the same moment, had few if any doubts of the justiceof his doom. 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

PRAYERS AND PROMISES. 

Ralph Colleton was once more in his dungeon--alone and without hope. Fora moment during the progress of his trial, and at the appearance ofLucy, he deemed it possible that some providential fortune might work achange in the aspect of things, favorable to his escape from what, tohis mind, was far worse than any thought of death, in the manner of hisdeath. But when, after a moment of reflection, he perceived that thefeminine delicacy of the maiden must suffer from any further testimonyfrom her lips--when he saw that, most probably, in the minds of all whoheard her narration, the circumstance of her appearance in his chamberand at such an hour of the night, and for any object, would be fatal toher reputation--when he perceived this consciousness, too, weighing downeven to agony the soul of the still courageous witness--the high senseof honor which had always prompted him, not less than that chivalrousconsideration of the sex taught in the south among the earliest lessonsof society to its youth--compelled him to interpose, and prevent, ifpossible, all further utterance, which, though possibly all-important tohim, would be fatally destructive to her. 

He did so at his own self-sacrifice! We have seen how the poor girl wassilenced. The result was, that Ralph Colleton was again in hisdungeon--hope shut out from its walls, and a fearful death and ignominywritten upon them. When the officers attending him had retired--when heheard the bolt shot, and saw that the eyes of curiosity wereexcluded--the firm spirit fled which had supported him. There was apassing weakness of heart which overcame its energies and resolve, andhe sunk down upon the single chair allotted to his prison. He buried hisface in his hands, and the warm tears gushed freely through his fingers. While thus weeping, like a very child, he heard the approach offootsteps without. In a moment he recovered all his manliness and calm. The traces of his weakness were sedulously brushed from his cheeks, andthe handkerchief employed for the purpose studiously put out of sight. He was not ashamed of the pang, but he was not willing that other eyesshould behold it. Such was the nature of his pride--the pride ofstrength, moral strength, and superiority over those weaknesses, which, however natural they may be, are nevertheless not often held becoming inthe man. 

It was the pedler, Bunce, who made his appearance--choosing, with afeature of higher characteristic than would usually have been allottedhim, rather to cheer the prison hours of the unfortunate, than to pursuehis own individual advantages; which, at such a time, might not havebeen inconsiderable. The worthy pedler was dreadfully disappointed inthe result of his late adventure. He had not given himself any troubleto inquire into the nature of those proofs which Lucy Munro had assuredhim were in her possession; but satisfied as much by his own hope as byher assurance, that all would be as he wished it, he had been elevatedto a pitch of almost indecorous joy which strongly contrasted with hispresent depression. He had little now to say in the way of consolation, and that little was coupled with so much that was unjust to the maiden, as to call forth, at length, the rebuke of Colleton. 

"Forbear on this subject, my good sir--she did what she could, and whatshe might have said would not have served me much. It was well she saidno more. Her willingness--her adventuring so much in my behalf--shouldalone be sufficient to protect her from everything like blame. But tellme, Bunce, what has become of her--where is she gone, and who is nowattending her?"

"Why, they took her back to the old tavern. A great big woman took herthere, and looked after her. I did go and had a sight on her, and there, to be sure, was Munro's wife, though her I did see, I'll be sworn, inamong the rocks where they shut us up. "

"And was Munro there?"

"Where--in the rocks?"

"No--in the tavern?--You say his wife had come back--did he trusthimself there?"

"I rather guess not--seeing as how he'd stand a close chance of'quaintance with the rope. No, neither him, nor Rivers, nor any of theregulators--thank the powers--ain't to be seen nowhere. They're alloff--up into the nation, I guess, or off, down in Alabam by this time, clear enough. "

"And who did you see at the rocks, and what men were they that made youprisoners?"

"Men--if I said men, I was 'nation out, I guess. Did I say men?"

"I understood you so. "

"'Twan't men at all. Nothing better than women, and no small womenneither. Didn't see a man in the neighborhood, but Chub, and he ain't noman neither. "

"What is he?"

"Why, for that matter, he's neither one thing nor another--nothing, nohow. A pesky little creature! What they call a hobbe-de-hoy will suitfor his name sooner than any other that I know on. For he ain't a manand he ain't a boy; but jest a short, half-grown up chunk of a fellow, with bunchy shoulders, and a big head, with a mouth like an oven, andlong lap ears like saddle flaps. "

In this manner the pedler informed Ralph of all those previousparticulars with which he had not till then been made acquainted. Thishaving been done, and the dialogue having fairly reached itstermination--and the youth exhibiting some strong symptoms ofweariness--Bunce took his departure for the present, not, however, without again proffering his services. These Ralph did not scruple toaccept--giving him, at the same time, sundry little commissions, andamong them a message of thanks and respectful consideration to MissMunro. 

She, in the meanwhile, had, upon fainting in the court-room, been borneoff in a state of utter insensibility, to the former residence of Munro, to which place, as the pedler has already informed us, the wife of thelandlord had that very morning returned, resuming, precisely as before, all the previous order of her domestic arrangements. The reason for thisreturn may be readily assigned. The escape of the pedler and of Lucyfrom their place of temporary confinement had completely upset all theprior arrangements of the outlaws. They now conceived it no longer safeas a retreat; and failing as they did to overtake the fugitives, it wasdetermined that, in the disguises which had been originally suggestedfor their adoption, they should now venture into the village, as many ofthem as were willing, to obtain that degree of information which wouldenable them to judge what further plans to adopt. 

As Rivers had conjectured, Chub Williams, so far from taking for thevillage, had plunged deeper into the woods, flying to former and wellknown haunts, and regarding the face of man as that of a natural enemy. The pedler had seen none but women, or those so disguised as such as toseem none other than what they claimed to be--while Lucy had beenpermitted to see none but her uncle and aunt, and one or two persons shehad never met before. 

Under these circumstances, Rivers individually felt no apprehensionsthat his wild refuge would be searched; but Munro, something older, lesssanguine, and somewhat more timid than his colleague, determined nolonger to risk it; and having, as we have seen, effectually checked theutterance of that evidence which, in the unconscious excitation of hisniece, must have involved him more deeply in the meshes of the law, besides indicating his immediate and near neighborhood, he made his way, unobserved, from the village, having first provided for her safety, andas he had determined to keep out of the way himself, having brought hisfamily back to their old place of abode. 

He had determined on this course from a variety of considerations. Nothing, he well knew, could affect his family. He had always studiouslykept them from any participation in his offences. The laws had no terrorfor them; and, untroubled by any process against him, they could stillremain and peaceably possess his property, of which he well knew, in theexisting state of society in the South, no legal outlawry of himselfwould ever avail to deprive them. This could not have been his hope intheir common flight. Such a measure, too, would only have impeded hisprogress, in the event of his pursuit, and have burdened him withencumbrances which would perpetually involve him in difficulty. Hecalculated differently his chances. His hope was to be able, when thefirst excitements had overblown, to return to the village, and at leastquietly to effect such a disposition of his property, which was notinconsiderable, as to avoid the heavy and almost entire loss which wouldnecessarily follow any other determination. 

In all this, however, it may be remarked that the reasonings of Rivers, rather than his own, determined his conduct. That more adventurousruffian had, from his superior boldness and greater capacities ingeneral, acquired a singular and large influence over his companion: hegoverned him, too, as much by his desire of gain as by any distinctsuperiority which he himself possessed; he stimulated his avarice withthe promised results of their future enterprises in the same regionafter the passing events were over; and thus held him still in thatfearful bondage of subordinate villany whose inevitable tendency is tomake the agent the creature, and finally the victim. The gripe which, ina moral sense, and with a slight reference to character, Rivers had uponthe landlord, was as tenacious as that of death--but with thisdifference, that it was death prolonged through a fearful, and, thoughnot a protracted, yet much too long a life. 

The determination of Munro was made accordingly; and, following hardupon the flight of Lucy from the rocks, we find the landlady quietlyreinstated in her old home as if nothing had happened. Munro did not, however, return to the place of refuge; he had no such confidence incircumstances as Rivers; his fears had grown active in due proportionwith his increase of years; and, with the increased familiarity withcrime, had grown up in his mind a corresponding doubt of all persons, and an active suspicion which trusted nothing. His abode in all thistime was uncertain: he now slept at one deserted lodge, and now atanother; now in the disguise of one and now of another character; now onhorseback, now on foot--but in no two situations taking the same featureor disguise. In the night-time he sometimes adventured, though withgreat caution, to the village, and made inquiries. On all hands, heheard of nothing but the preparations making against the clan of whichhe was certainly one of the prominent heads. The state was roused intoactivity, and a proclamation of the governor, offering a high reward forthe discovery and detention of any persons having a hand in the murderof the guard, was on one occasion put into his own hands. All thesethings made caution necessary, and, though venturing still veryconsiderably at times, he was yet seldom entirely off his guard. 

Rivers kept close in the cover of his den. That den had numberlessramifications, however, known only to himself; and his calm indifferencewas the result of a conviction that it would require two hundred men, properly instructed, and all at the same moment, to trace him throughits many sinuosities. He too, sometimes, carefully disguised, penetratedinto the village, but never much in the sight of those who were notbound to him by a common danger. To Lucy he did not appear on suchoccasions, though he did to the old lady, and even at the familyfireside. 

Lucy, indeed, had eyes for few objects, and thoughts but for one. Shesat as one stupified with danger, yet sufficiently conscious of it as tobe conscious of nothing besides. She was bewildered with the throng ofhorrible circumstances which had been so crowded on her mind and memoryin so brief a space of time. At one moment she blamed her own weaknessin suffering the trial of Ralph to progress to a consummation which sheshuddered to reflect upon. Had she a right to withhold hertestimony--testimony so important to the life and the honor of oneperson, because others might suffer in consequence--those others thereal criminals, and he the innocent victim? and loving him as she did, and hating or fearing his enemies? Had she performed her duty insuffering his case to go to judgment? and such a judgment--so horrible adoom! Should she now suffer it to go to its dreadful execution, when aword from her would stay the hand of the officer, and save the life ofthe condemned? But would such be its effect? What credence would begiven now to one who, in the hall of justice, had sunk down like acriminal herself--withholding the truth, and contradicting every word ofher utterance? To whom, then, could she apply? who would hear her plea, even though she boldly narrated all the truth, in behalf of theprisoner? She maddened as she thought on all these difficulties; herblood grew fevered, a thick haze overspread her senses, and she raved atlast in the most wild delirium. 

Some days went by in her unconsciousness, and when she at length grewcalm--when the fever of her mind had somewhat subsided--she opened hereyes and found, to her great surprise, her uncle sitting beside hercouch. It was midnight; and this was the hour he had usually chosen whenmaking his visits to his family. In these stolen moments, his attendancewas chiefly given to that hapless orphan, whose present sufferings hewell knew were in great part attributable to himself. 

The thought smote him, for, in reference to her, all feeling had not yetdeparted from his soul. There was still a lurking sensibility--alingering weakness of humanity--one of those pledges which nature givesof her old affiliation, and which she never entirely takes away from thehuman heart. There are still some strings, feeble and wanting in energythough they be, which bind even the most reckless outcast in some littleparticular to humanity; and, however time, and the world's variety ofcircumstance, may have worn them and impaired their firm hold, theystill sometimes, at unlooked-for hours, regrapple the long-rebellioussubject, and make themselves felt and understood as in the first momentsof their creation. 

Such now was their resumed sway with Munro. While his niece--the young, the beautiful, the virtuous--so endowed by nature--so improved byeducation--so full of those fine graces, beyond the reach of anyart--lay before him insensible--her fine mind spent in incoherentravings--her gentle form racked with convulsive shudderings--the still, small, monitorial voice, unheard so long, spoke out to him in terriblerebukings. He felt in those moments how deeply he had been a criminal;how much, not of his own, he had appropriated to himself and sacrificed;and how sacred a trust he had abused, in the person of the delicatecreature before him, by a determination the most cruel and perhapsunnecessary. 

Days had elapsed in her delirium; and such were his newly-awakenedfeelings, that each night brought him, though at considerable risk, anattendant by her bed. His hand administered--his eyes watched over; and, in the new duties of the parent, he acquired a new feeling of duty anddomestic love, the pleasures of which he had never felt before. But shegrew conscious at last, and her restoration relieved his mind of oneapprehension which had sorely troubled it. Her condition, during herillness, was freely described to her. But she thought not ofherself--she had no thought for any other than the one for whom thoughtsand prayers promised now to avail but little. 

"Uncle--" she spoke at last--"you are here, and I rejoice to see you. Ihave much to say, much to beg at your hands: oh, let me not beg in vain!Let me not find you stubborn to that which may not make me happy--I saynot that, for happy I never look to be again--but make me as much so ashuman power can make me. When--" and she spoke hurriedly, while a strongand aguish shiver went through her whole frame--"when is it said that hemust die?"

He knew perfectly of whom she spoke, but felt reluctant to indulge hermind in a reference to the subject which had already exercised so largean influence over it. But he knew little of the distempered heart, andfell into an error by no means uncommon with society. She soon convincedhim of this, when his prolonged silence left it doubtful whether hecontemplated an answer. 

"Why are you silent? do you fear to speak? Have no fears now. We have notime for fear. We must be active--ready--bold. Feel my hand: it tremblesno longer. I am no longer a weak-hearted woman. "

He again doubted her sanity, and spoke to her soothingly, seeking todivert her mind to indifferent subjects; but she smiled on the endeavor, which she readily understood, and putting aside her aunt, who began toprattle in a like strain, and with a like object, she again addressedher uncle. 

"Doubt me not, uncle: I rave no longer. I am now calm--calm as it ispossible for me to be, having such a sorrow as mine struggling at myheart. Why should I hide it from you? It will not be hidden. I lovehim--love him as woman never loved man before--with a soul and spiritall unreservedly his, and with no thought in which he is not always theprincipal. I know that he loves another; I know that the passion which Ifeel I must feel and cherish alone; that it must burn itself away, though it burn away its dwelling-place. I am resigned to such a fate;but I am not prepared for more. I can not bear that he too shoulddie--and such a death! He must not die--he must not die, my uncle;though we save him--ay, save him--for another. "

"Shame on you, my daughter!--how can you confess so much? Think on yoursex--you are a woman--think on your youth!" Such was the somewhatstrongly-worded rebuke of the old lady. 

"I have thought on all--on everything. I feel all that you have said, and the thought and the feeling have been my madness. I must speak, or Ishall again go mad. I am not the tame and cold creature that the worldcalls woman. I have been differently made. I can love in the world'sdespite. I can feel through the world's freeze. I can dare all, when mysoul is in it, though the world sneer in scorn and contempt. But what Ihave said, is said to _you_. I would not--no, not for worlds, that heshould know I said it--not for worlds!" and her cheeks were tingedslightly, while her head rested for a single instant upon the pillow. 

"But all this is nothing!" she started up, and again addressed herselfto the landlord. "Speak, uncle! tell me, is there yet time--yet time tosave him I When is it they say he must die?"

"On Friday next, at noon. "

"And this--?"

"Is Monday. "

"He must not die--no, not die, then, my uncle! _You_ must save him--you_must_ save him! You have been the cause of his doom: you must preservehim from its execution. You owe it him as a debt--you owe it me--you oweit to yourself. Believe not, my uncle, that there is no other day thanthis--no other world--no other penalties than belong to this. You readno bible, but you have a thought which must tell you that there areworlds--there is a life yet to come. I know you can not doubt--you mustnot doubt--you must believe. Have a fear of its punishments, have a hopeof its rewards, and listen to my prayer. You must save Ralph Colleton;ask me not how--talk not of difficulties. You must save him--youmust--you must!"

"Why, you forget, Lucy, my dear child--you forget that I too am indanger. This is midnight: it is only at this hour that I can steal intothe village; and how, and in what manner, shall I be able to do as yourequire?"

"Oh, man!--man!--forgive me, dear uncle, I would not vex you! But ifthere were gold in that dungeon--broad bars of gold, or shining silver, or a prize that would make you rich, would you ask me the how and thewhere? Would that clumsy block, and those slight bars, and that dulljailer, be an obstacle that would keep you back? Would you need a poorgirl like me to tell you that the blocks might be pierced--that the barsmight be broken--that the jailer might be won to the mercy which wouldsave? You have strength--you have skill--you have the capacity, thepower--there is but one thing wanting to my prayer--the will, thedisposition!"

"You do me wrong, Lucy--great wrong, believe me. I feel for this youngman, and the thought has been no less painful to me than to you, that myagency has contributed in great measure to his danger. But what if Iwere to have the will, as you say--what if I went forward to the jailerand offered a bribe--would not the bribe which the state has offered formy arrest be a greater attraction than any in my gift? To scale thewalls and break the bars, or in any forcible manner to effect thepurpose, I must have confederates, and in whom could I venture toconfide? The few to whom I could intrust such a design are like myself, afraid to adventure or be seen, and such a design would be defeated byRivers himself, who so much hates the youth, and is bent on hisdestruction. "

"Speak not of _him_--_say to him nothing_--you must do it _yourself_ ifyou do it all. You can effect much if you seriously determine. You candesign, and execute all, and find ready and able assistance, if you oncewillingly set about it. I am not able to advise, nor will you need mycounsel. Assure me that you will make the effort--that you will put yourwhole heart in it--and I have no fears--I feel confident of his escape. "

"You think too highly of my ability in this respect. There was a time, Lucy, when such a design had not been so desperate, but now--"

"Oh, not so desperate now, uncle, uncle--I could not live--not amoment--were he to perish in that dreadful manner. Have I no claim uponyour mercy--will you not do for me what you would do for money--what youhave done at the bidding of that dreadful wretch, Rivers? Nay, look notaway, I know it all--I know that you had the dagger of Colleton--thatyou put it into the hands of the wretch who struck the man--that you sawhim strike--that you strove not to stop his hand. Fear you not I shallreveal it? Fear you not?--but I will not--I can not! Yet this should beenough to make you strive in this service. Heard you not, too, when liespoke and stopped my evidence, knowing that my word would have savedhim--rather than see me brought to the dreadful trial of telling what Iknew of that night--that awful night--when you both sought his life? Oh, I could love him for this--for this one thing--were there nothing elsebesides worthy of my love!"

The incident to which she referred had not been unregarded by theindividual she addressed, and while she spoke, his looks assumed ameditative expression, and he replied as in soliloquy, and in brokensentences:--

"Could I pass to the jail unperceived--gain admittance--then--but whowould grapple with the jailer--how manage that?--let me see--butno--no--that is impossible!"

"What is impossible?--nothing is impossible in this work, if you willbut try. Do not hesitate, dear uncle--it will look easier if you willreflect upon it. You will see many ways of bringing it about. You canget aid if you want it. There's the pedler, who is quite willing, andChub--Chub will do much, if you can only find him out. "

The landlord smiled as she named these two accessaries "Bunce--why, whatcould the fellow do?--he's not the man for such service; now Chub mightbe of value, if he'd only follow orders: but that he won't do. I don'tsee how we're to work it, Lucy--it looks more difficult the more I thinkon it. "

"Oh, if it's only difficult--if it's not impossible--it will be done. Donot shrink back, uncle; do not scruple. The youth has done you nowrong--you have done him much. You have brought him where he is, hewould have been safe otherwise You must save him. Save him, uncle--andhear me as I promise. You may then do with me as you please. From thatmoment I am your slave, and then, if it must be so--if you will thenrequire it, I am willing then to become _his_ slave too--him whom youhave served so faithfully and so unhappily for so long a season. "

"Of whom speak you?"

"Guy Rivers! yes--I shall then obey you, though the funeral come withthe bridal. "

"Lucy!"

"It is true. I hope not to survive it. It will be a worse destiny to methan even the felon death to the youth whom I would save. Do with me asyou please then, but let him not perish. Rescue him from the doom youhave brought upon him--and oh, my uncle, in that other world--if therewe meet--the one good deed shall atone, in the thought of my poorfather, for the other most dreadful sacrifice to which his daughter nowresigns herself. "

The stern man was touched. He trembled, and his lips quiveredconvulsively as he took her hand into his own. Recovering himself, in afirm tone, as solemn as that which she had preserved throughout thedialogue, he replied--

"Hear me, Lucy, and believe what I assure you. I _will_ try to save thisyouth. I will do what I can, my poor child, to redeem the trust of yourfather. I have been no father to you heretofore, not much of one, atleast, but it is not too late, and I will atone. I will do my best forColleton--the thing is full of difficulty and danger, but I will try tosave him. All this, however, must be unknown--not a word to anybody; andRivers must not see you happy, or he will suspect. Better not beseen--still keep to your chamber, and rest assured that all will bedone, in my power, for the rescue of the youth. "

"Oh, now you are, indeed, my father--yet--uncle, shall I see you at thetime when it is to be done? Tell me at what moment you seek hisdeliverance, that I may be upon my knees. Yet say not to him that I havedone anything or said anything which has led to your endeavors. He willnot think so well of me if you do; and, though he may not love, I wouldhave him think always of me as if--as if I were a woman. "

She was overcome with exertion, and in the very revival of her hope, herstrength was exhausted; but she had sunk into a sweet sleep ere heruncle left the apartment. 

CHAPTER XXXV. 

NEW PARTIES ON THE STAGE. 

A day more had elapsed, and the bustle in the little village wasincreased by the arrival of other travellers. A new light came to thedungeon of Ralph Colleton, in the persons of his uncle and cousin Edith, whom his letters, at his first arrest, had apprized of his situation. They knew that situation only in part, however; and the first intimationof his doom was that which he himself gave them. 

The meeting was full of a painful pleasure. The youth himself wasfirm--muscle and mind all over; but deeply did his uncle reproachhimself for his precipitation and sternness, and the grief of Edith, like all deep grief, was dumb, and had no expression. There was but thesign of wo--of wo inexpressible--in the ashy lip, the glazed, thetearless and half-wandering eye, and the convulsive shiver, that atintervals shook her whole frame, like strong and sudden gusts among thefoliage. The youth, if he had any at such an hour, spared hisreproaches. He narrated in plain and unexaggerated language, as ifengaged in the merest narration of commonplace, all the circumstances ofhis trial. He pointed out the difficulties of his situation, to his mindinsuperable, and strove to prepare the minds of those who heard, for thefinal and saddest trial of all, even as his own mind was prepared. Inthat fearful work of preparation, the spirit of love could acknowledgeno restraining influence, and never was embrace more fond than that ofRalph and the maiden. Much of his uncle's consolation was found in thebetter disposition which he now entertained, though at too late a day, in favor of their passion. He would now willingly consent to all. 

"Had you not been so precipitate, Ralph--" he said, "had you not been soproud--had you thought at all, or given me time for thought, all thistrial had been spared us. Was I not irritated by other things when Ispoke to you unkindly? You knew not how much I had been chafed--youshould not have been so hasty. "

"No more of this, uncle, I pray you. I was wrong and rash, and I blameyou not. I have nobody but myself to reproach. Speak not of the matter;but, as the best preparation for all that is to come, let your thoughtbanish me rather from contemplation. Why should the memory of so fair acreature as this be haunted by a story such as mine? Why should shebehold, in her mind's eye, for ever, the picture of my dyingagonies--the accursed scaffold--the--" and the emotion of his soul, atthe subject of his own contemplation, choked him in his utterance, whileEdith, half-fainting in his arms, prayed his forbearance. 

"Speak not thus--not of this, Ralph, if you would not have me perish. Iam fearfully sick now, my head swims, and all is commotion at my heart. Not water--not water--give me hope--consolation. Tell me that there isstill some chance--some little prospect--that some noble people arestriving in your cause--that somebody is gone in search of evidence--insearch of hope. Is there no circumstance which may avail? Said you notsomething of--did you not tell me of a person who could say for you thatwhich would have done much towards your escape? A woman, was itnot--speak, who is she--let me go to her--she will not refuse to tell meall, and do all, if she be a woman. "

Ralph assured her in the gentlest manner of the hopelessness of any suchapplication; and the momentary dream which her own desires had conjuredinto a promise, as suddenly subsided, leaving her to a fullconsciousness of her desolation. Her father at length found it necessaryto abridge the interview. Every moment of its protraction seemed stillmore to unsettle the understanding of his daughter. She spoke wildly andconfusedly, and in that thought of separation which the doom of herlover perpetually forced upon her, she contemplated, in all its fearfulextremities, her own. She was borne away half delirious--the feeling ofwo something blunted, however, by the mental unconsciousness followingits realization. 

Private apartments were readily found them in the village, and havingprovided good attendance for his daughter, Colonel Colleton set out, though almost entirely hopeless, to ascertain still farther theparticulars of the case, and to see what might be done in behalf of oneof whose innocence he felt perfectly assured. He knew Ralph too well tosuspect him of falsehood; and the clear narrative which he had given, and the manly and unhesitating account of all particulars having anybearing on the case which had fallen from his lips, he knew, from allhis previous high-mindedness of character, might safely be relied on. Assured of this himself, he deemed it not improbable that somethingmight undergo development, in a course of active inquiry, which mighttend to the creation of a like conviction in the minds of those in whomrested the control of life and judgment. 

His first visit was to the lawyer, from whom, however, he could procurenothing, besides being compelled, without possibility of escape, tolisten to a long string of reproaches against his nephew. 

"I could, and would have saved him, Colonel Colleton, if the power werein mortal, " was the self-sufficient speech of the little man; "but hewould not--he broke in upon me when the very threshold was to be passed, and just as I was upon it. Things were in a fair train, and all mighthave gone well but for his boyish interruption. I would have come overthe jury with a settler. I would have made out a case, sir, for theirconsideration, which every man of them would have believed he himselfsaw. I would have shown your nephew, sir, riding down the narrow trace, like a peaceable gentleman; anon, sir, you should have seen Forrestercoming along full tilt after him. Forrester should have cried out with awhoop and a right royal oath; then Mr. Colleton would have heard him, and turned round to receive him. But Forrester is drunk, you know, andwill not understand the young man's civilities. He blunders out a volleyof curses right and left, and bullies Master Colleton for a fight, whichhe declines. But Forrester is too drunk to mind all that. Without moreado, he mounts the young gentleman and is about to pluck out his eyes, when he feels the dirk in his ribs, and then they cut loose. He gets thedirk from Master Colleton, and makes at him; but he picks up a hatchetthat happens to be lying about, and drives at his head, and down dropsForrester, as he ought to, dead as a door-nail. "

"Good heavens! and why did you not bring these facts forward? Theysurely could not have condemned him under these circumstances. "

"Bring them forward! To be sure, I would have done so but, as I tellyou, just when on the threshold, at the very entrance into thetransaction, up pops this hasty young fellow--I'm sorry to call yournephew so, Colonel Colleton--but the fact is, he owes his situationentirely to himself. I would have saved him, but he was obstinately benton not being saved; and just as I commenced the affair, up he pops andtells me, before all the people, that I know nothing about it. A prettyjoke, indeed. I know nothing about it, and it my business to know allabout it. Sir, it ruined him. I saw, from that moment, how the cat wouldjump. I pitied the poor fellow, but what more could I do?"

"But it is not too late--we can memorialize the governor, we can putthese facts in form, and by duly showing them with the accompanyingproofs, we can obtain a new trial--a respite. "

"Can't be done now--it's too late. Had I been let alone--had not theyouth come between me and my duty--I would have saved him, sir, as underGod, I have saved hundreds before. But it's too late now. "

"Oh, surely not too late! with the facts that you mention, if you willgive me the names of the witnesses furnishing them, so that I can obtaintheir affidavits--"

"Witnesses!--what witnesses?"

"Why, did you not tell me of the manner in which Forrester assaulted mynephew, and forced upon him what he did as matter of self-defense? Whereis the proof of this?"

"Oh, proof! Why, you did not think that was the true state of thecase--that was only the case I was to present to the jury. "

"And there is, then, no evidence for what you have said?"

"Not a tittle, sir. Evidence is scarcely necessary in a case like this, sir, where the state proves more than you can possibly disprove. Youronly hope, sir is to present a plausible conjecture to the jury. Justset their fancies to work, and they have a taste most perfectlydramatic. What you leave undone, they will do. Where you exhibit ablank, they will supply the words wanting. Only set them on trail, andthey'll tree the 'possum. They are noble hands at it, and, as I now liveand talk to you, sir, not one of them who heard the plausible storywhich I would have made out, but would have discovered more common senseand reason in it than in all the evidence you could possibly have giventhem. Because, you see, I'd have given them a reason for everything. Look, how I should have made out the story. Mr. Colleton and Forresterare excellent friends, and both agree to travel together. Well, they'reto meet at the forks by midnight. In the meantime, Forrester goes to seehis sweetheart, Kate Allen--a smart girl, by the way, colonel, and wellto look on. Parting's a very uncomfortable thing, now, and they don'taltogether like it. Kate cries, and Forrester storms. Well, _must_ comecomes at last. They kiss, and are off--different ways. Well, grief's buta dry companion, and to get rid of him, Forrester takes a drink; stillgrief holds on, and then he takes another and another, until grief getsoff at last, but not before taking with him full half, and not the worsthalf either, of the poor fellow's senses. What then? Why, then heswaggers and swears at everything, and particularly at your nephew, who, you see, not knowing his condition, swears at him for keeping himwaiting--"

"Ralph Colleton never swears, Mr. Pippin, " said the colonel, grimly. 

"Well, well, if he didn't swear then, he might very well have sworn, andI'll be sworn but he did on that occasion; and it was very pardonabletoo. Well, he swears at the drunken man, not knowing his condition, andthe drunken man rolls and reels like a rowdy, and gives it to him back, and then they get at it. Your nephew, who is a stout colt, buffets himwell for a time, but Forrester, who is a mighty, powerful built fellow, he gets the better in the long run, and both come down together in theroad. Then Forrester, being uppermost, sticks his thumb into MasterColleton's eye--the left eye, I think, it was--yes, the left eye itwas--and the next moment it would have been out, when your nephew, notliking it, whipped out his dirk, and, 'fore Forrester could say JackRobinson, it was playing about in his ribs; and, then comes the hatchetpart, just as I told it you before. "

"And is none of this truth?"

"God bless your soul, no! Do you suppose, if it was the truth, it wouldhave taken so long a time in telling? I wouldn't have wasted the breathon it. The witnesses would have done that, if it were true; but in thiswas the beauty of my art, and had I been permitted to say to the jurywhat I've said to you, the young man would have been clear. It wouldn'thave been gospel, but where's the merit of a lawyer, if he can't gothrough a bog? This is one of the sweetest and most delightful featuresof the profession. Sir, it is putting the wings of fiction to thelifeless and otherwise immovable body of the fact. "

Colonel Colleton was absolutely stunned by the fertility and volubilityof the speaker, and after listening for some time longer, as long as itwas possible to procure from him anything which might be of service, hetook his departure, bending his way next to the wigwam, in which, forthe time being, the pedler had taken up his abode. It will not benecessary that we should go with him there, as it is not probable thatanything materially serving his purpose or ours will be adduced from thenarrative of Bunce. In the meantime, we will turn our attention to apersonage, whose progress must correspond, in all respects, with that ofour narrative. 

Guy Rivers had not been unapprized of the presence of the late comers atthe village. He had his agents at work, who marked the progress ofthings, and conveyed their intelligence to him with no qualifiedfidelity. The arrival of Colonel Colleton and his daughter had been madeknown to him within a few hours after its occurrence, and the feelingsof the outlaw were of a nature the most complex and contradictory. Secure within his den, the intricacies of which were scarcely known toany but himself, he did not study to restrain those emotions which hadprompted him to so much unjustifiable outrage. With no eye to mark hisactions or to note his speech, the guardian watchfulness which hadsecreted so much, in his association with others, was taken off; and wesee much of that heart and those wild principles of its government, themysteries of which contain so much that it is terrible to see. Slowly, and for a long time after the receipt of the above-mentionedintelligence, he strode up and down the narrow cell of his retreat; allpassions at sway and contending for the mastery--sudden action andincoherent utterance occasionally diversifying the otherwise monotonousmovements of his person. At one moment, he would clinch his hands withviolence together, while an angry malediction would escape through hisknitted teeth--at another, a demoniac smile of triumph, and a fiercelaugh of gratified malignity would ring through the apartment, comingback upon him in an echo, which would again restore him toconsciousness, and bring back the silence so momentarily banished. 

"They are here; they have come to witness his degradation--to grace mytriumph--to feel it, and understand my revenge. We will see if the proudbeauty knows me now--if she yet continues to discard and to disdain me. I have her now upon my own terms. She will not refuse; I am sure of her;I shall conquer her proud heart; I will lead her in chains, the heaviestchains of all--the chains of a dreadful necessity. He must die else! Iwill howl it in her ears with the voice of the wolf; I will paint itbefore her eyes with a finger dipped in blood and in darkness! She shallsee him carried to the gallows; I shall make her note the halter abouthis neck--that neck, which, in her young thought, her arms were to haveencircled only; nor shall she shut her eyes upon the last scene, norclose her ears to the last groan of my victim! She shall see and hearall, or comply with all that I demand! It must be done: but how? Howshall I see her? how obtain her presence? how command her attention?Pshaw! shall a few beardless soldiers keep me back, and baffle me inthis? Shall I dread the shadow now, and shrink back when the sun shinesout that makes it? I will not fear. I will see her. I will bid defianceto them all! She shall know my power, and upon one condition only will Iuse it to save him. She will not dare to refuse the condition; she willconsent; she will at last be mine: and for this I will do so much--go sofar--ay, save him whom I would yet be so delighted to destroy!"

Night came; and in a small apartment of one of the lowliest dwellings ofChestatee, Edith and her father sat in the deepest melancholy, conjuringup perpetually in their minds those images of sorrow so natural to theirpresent situation. It was somewhat late, and they had just returned froman evening visit to the dungeon of Ralph Colleton. The mind of the youthwas in far better condition than theirs, and his chief employment hadbeen in preparing them for a similar feeling of resignation withhimself. He had succeeded but indifferently. They strove to appear firm, in order that he should not be less so than they found him; but theeffort was very perceptible, and the recoil of their dammed-up emotionswas only so much more fearful and overpowering. The strength of Edithhad been severely tried, and her head now rested upon the bosom of herfather, whose arms were required for her support, in a state offeebleness and exhaustion, leaving it doubtful, at moments, whether thevital principle had not itself utterly departed. 

At this period the door opened, and a stranger stood abruptly beforethem. His manner was sufficiently imposing, though his dress was that ofthe wandering countryman, savoring of the jockey, and not much unlikethat frequently worn by such wayfarers as the stagedriver and carrier ofthe mails. He had on an overcoat made of buckskin, an article of theIndian habit; a deep fringe of the same material hung suspended from twoheavy capes that depended from the shoulder. His pantaloons were made ofbuckskin also; a foxskin cap rested slightly upon his head, rather moreupon one side than the other; while a whip of huge dimensions occupiedone of his hands. Whiskers, of a bushy form and most luxuriant growth, half-obscured his cheek, and the mustaches were sufficiently small tolead to the inference that the wearer had only recently decided tosuffer the region to grow wild. A black-silk handkerchief, wrappedloosely about his neck, completed the general outline; and the _toutensemble_ indicated one of those dashing blades, so frequently to beencountered in the southern country, who, despising the humdrum monotonyof regular life, are ready for adventure--lads of the turf, themuster-ground, the general affray--the men who can whip their weight inwild-cats--whose general rule it is to knock down and drag out. 

Though startling at first to both father and daughter, the manner of theintruder was such as to forbid any further alarm than was incidental tohis first abrupt appearance. His conduct was respectful anddistant--closely observant of the proprieties in his address, and sostudiously guarded as to satisfy them, at the very outset, that nothingimproper was intended. Still, his entrance without any intimation wassufficiently objectionable to occasion a hasty demand from ColonelColleton as to the meaning of his intrusion. 

"None, sir, is intended, which may not be atoned for, " was the reply. "Ihad reason to believe, Colonel Colleton, that the present melancholycircumstances of your family were such as might excuse an intrusionwhich may have the effect of making them less so; which, indeed, may gofar toward the prevention of that painful event which you nowcontemplate as certain. "

The words were electrical in their effect upon both father and daughter. The former rose from his chair, and motioned the stranger to be seated;while the daughter, rapidly rising also, with an emotion which gave newlife to her form, inquired breathlessly--

"Speak, sir! say--how!"--and she lingered and listened with figure bentsensibly forward, and hand uplifted and motionless, for reply. Theperson addressed smiled with visible effort, while slight shades ofgloom, like the thin clouds fleeting over the sky at noonday, obscuredat intervals the otherwise subdued and even expression of hiscountenance. He looked at the maiden while speaking, but his words wereaddressed to her father. 

"I need not tell you, sir, that the hopes of your nephew are gone. Thereis no single chance upon which he can rest a doubt whereby his safetymay be secured. The doom is pronounced, the day is assigned, and theexecutioner is ready. "

"Is your purpose insult, sir, that you tell us this?" was the ratherfierce inquiry of the colonel. 

"Calmly, sir, " was the response, in a manner corresponding well with thenature of his words; "my purpose, I have already said, is to bring, orat least to offer, relief; to indicate a course which may result in thesafety of the young man whose life is now at hazard; and to contribute, myself, to the object which I propose. "

"Go on--go on, sir, if you please, but spare all unnecessary referenceto his situation, " said the colonel, as a significant pressure of hisarm on the part of his daughter motioned him to patience. The strangerproceeded:--

"My object in dwelling upon the youth's situation was, if possible, byshowing its utter hopelessness in every other respect, to induce you themore willingly to hear what I had to offer, and to comply with certainconditions which must be preparatory to any development upon my part. "

"There is something strangely mysterious in this. I am willing to doanything and everything, in reason and without dishonor, for the safetyof my nephew; the more particularly as I believe him altogether innocentof the crime laid to his charge. More than this I dare not; and I shallnot be willing to yield to unknown conditions, prescribed by a stranger, whatever be the object: but speak out at once, sir, and keep us nolonger in suspense. In the meantime, retire, Edith, my child; we shallbest transact this business in your absence. You will feel too acutelythe consideration of this subject to listen to it in discussion. Go, mydaughter. "

But the stranger interposed, with a manner not to be questioned:--

"Let her remain, Colonel Colleton; it is, indeed, only to her that I canreveal the mode and the conditions of the assistance which I am tooffer. This was the preliminary condition of which I spoke. To her alonecan my secret be revealed, and my conference must be entirely with her. "

"But, sir, this is so strange--so unusual--so improper. "

"True, Colonel Colleton; in the ordinary concerns, the everyday officesof society, it would be strange, unusual, and improper; but these arenot times, and this is not a region of the world, in which the commonforms are to be insisted upon. You forget, sir, that you are in the wildabiding-place of men scarcely less wild--with natures as stubborn as therocks, and with manners as uncouth and rugged as the woodland growthwhich surrounds us. I know as well as yourself that my demand isunusual; but such is my situation--such, indeed, the necessities of thewhole case, that there is no alternative. I am persuaded that yournephew can be saved; I am willing to make an effort for that purpose, and my conditions are to be complied with: one of them you haveheard--it is for your daughter to hear the rest. "

The colonel still hesitated. He was very tenacious of those forms ofsociety, and of intercourse between the sexes, which are rigidlyinsisted upon in the South, and his reluctance was manifest. While heyet hesitated, the stranger again spoke:

"The condition which I have proposed, sir, is unavoidable, but I ask younot to remove from hearing: the adjoining room is not so remote but thatyou can hear any appeal which your daughter may be pleased to make. Hercall would reach your ears without effort. My own security depends, notless than that of your nephew, upon your compliance with the conditionunder which only will I undertake to save him. "

These suggestions prevailed. Suspecting the stranger to be one whoseevidence would point to the true criminal, himself an offender, he atlength assented to the arrangement, and, after a few minutes' furtherdialogue, he left the room. As he retired, the stranger carefully lockedthe door, a movement which somewhat alarmed the maiden; but therespectful manner with which he approached her, and her own curiositynot less than interest in the progress of the event, kept her from theexhibition of any apprehensions. 

The stranger drew nigh her. His glances, though still respectful, werefixed, long and searchingly, upon her face. He seemed to study all itsfeatures, comparing them, as it would seem, with his own memories. Atlength, as with a sense of maidenly propriety, she sternly turned away, he addressed her:--

"Miss Colleton has forgotten me, it appears, though I have some claim tobe an old acquaintance. I, at least, have a better memory for myfriends--I have not forgotten _her_. "

Edith looked up in astonishment, but there was no recognition in herglance. A feeling of mortified pride might have been detected in theexpression of his countenance, as, with a tone of calm unconsciousness, she replied--

"You are certainly unremembered, if ever known, by me, sir. I am trulysorry to have forgotten one who styles himself my friend. "

"Who was--who is--or, rather, who is now willing again to be yourfriend, Miss Colleton, " was the immediate reply. 

"Yes, and so I will gladly call you, sir, if you succeed in what youhave promised. "

"I have yet promised nothing, Miss Colleton. "

"True, true! but you say you have the power, and surely would notwithhold it at such a time. Oh, speak, sir! tell me how you can serve usall, and receive my blessings and my thanks for ever. "

"The reward is great--very great--but not greater--perhaps not as great, as I may demand for my services. But we should not be ignorant of oneanother in such an affair, and at such a time as this. Is it true, then, that Miss Colleton has no memory which, at this moment, may spare mefrom the utterance of a name, which perhaps she herself would not bealtogether willing to hear, and which it is not my policy to haveuttered by any lips, and far less by my own? Think--remember--lady, andlet me be silent still on that one subject. Let no feeling of prideinfluence the rejection of a remembrance which perhaps carries with itbut few pleasant reflections. "

Again were the maiden's eyes fixed searchingly upon the speaker, andagain, conflicting with the searching character of his own glance, werethey withdrawn, under the direction of a high sense of modest dignity. She had made the effort at recognition--that was evident even tohim--and had made it in vain. 

"Entirely forgotten--well! better that than to have been remembered asthe thing I was. Would it were possible to be equally forgotten by therest--but this, too, is vain and childish. She must be taught toremember me. "

Thus muttered the stranger to himself; assuming, however, an increaseddecision of manner at the conclusion, he approached her, and tearingfrom his cheeks the huge whiskers that had half-obscured them, he spokein hurried accents:--

"Look on me now, Miss Colleton--look on me now, and while you gaze uponfeatures once sufficiently well known to your glance, let your memorybut retrace the few years when it was your fortune, and my fate, tospend a few months in Gwinnett county. Do you remember the time--do youremember that bold, ambitious man, who, at that time, was the claimantfor a public honor--who was distinguished by you in a dance, at the ballgiven on that occasion--who, maddened by wine, and a fierce passionwhich preyed upon him then, like a consuming fire, addressed you, thougha mere child, and sought you for his bride, who--but I see you rememberall!"

"And are you then Creighton--Mr. Edward Creighton--and so changed!" Andshe looked upon him with an expression of simple wonder. 

"Ay, that was the name once-but I have another now. Would you know mebetter--I am Guy Rivers, where the name of Creighton must not again bespoken. It is the name of a felon--of one under doom of outlawry--whomall men are privileged to slay. I have been hunted from society--I canno longer herd with my fellows--I am without kin, and am almost withoutkind. Yet, base and black with crime--doomed by mankind--banished allhuman abodes--the slave of fierce passions--the leagued with foulassociates, I dared, in your girlhood, to love you; and, more daringstill, I dare to love you now. Fear not, lady--you are Edith Colleton tome; and worthless, and vile, and reckless, though I have become, for youI can hold no thought which would behold you other than you are--acreature for worship rather than for love. As such I would have youstill; and for this purpose do I seek you now. I know your feeling forthis young man--I saw it then, when you repulsed me. I saw that youloved each other, though neither of you were conscious of the truth. Youlove him now--you would not have him perish--I know well how you regardhim, and I come, knowing this, to make hard conditions with you for hislife. "

"Keep me no longer in suspense--speak out, Mr. Creighton"--she cried, gaspingly. 

"Rivers--Rivers--I would not hear the other--it was by that name I wasdriven from my fellows. "

"Mr. Rivers, say what can be done--what am I to do--money--thanks, allthat we can give shall be yours, so that you save him from this fate. "

"And who would speak thus for me? What fair pleader, fearless of man'sopinion--that blights or blesses, without reference to right ormerit--would so far speak for me!"

"Many--many, Mr. Rivers--I hope there are many. Heaven knows, though Imay have rejected in my younger days, your attentions, I know not manyfor whom I would more willingly plead and pray than yourself. I doremember now your talents and high reputation, and deeply do I regretthe unhappy fortune which has denied them their fulfilment. "

"Ah, Edith Colleton, these words would have saved me once--now they arenothing, in recompense for the hopes which are for ever gone. Yourthoughts are gentle, and may sooth all spirits but my own. But soundsthat lull others, lull me no longer. It is not the music of a richdream, or of a pleasant fancy, which may beguile me into pleasure. I amdead--dead as the cold rock--to their influence. The storm whichblighted me has seared, and ate into the very core. I am like the treethrough which the worm has travelled--it still stands, and there isfoliage upon it, but the heart is eaten out and gone. Your words touchme no longer as they did--I need something more than words and mereflatteries--flatteries so sweet even as those which come from yourlips--are no longer powerful to bind me to your service. I can save theyouth--I will save him, though I hate him; but the conditions are fatalto your love for him. "

There was much in this speech to offend and annoy the hearer; but shesteeled herself to listen, and it cost her some effort to reply. 

"I can listen--I can hear all that you may say having reference to him. I know not what you may intend; I know not what you may demand for yourservice. But name your condition. All in honor--all that a maiden maygrant and be true to herself, all--all, for his life and safety. "

"Still, I fear, Miss Colleton--your love for him is not sufficientlylavish to enable your liberality to keep pace with the extravagance ofmy demand--"

"Hold, sir--on this particular there is no need of further speech. Whatever may be the extent of my regard for Ralph, it is enough that Iam willing to do much, to sacrifice much--in return for his rescue fromthis dreadful fate. Speak, therefore, your demand--spare no word--delayme, I pray, no longer. "

"Hear me, then. As Creighton, I loved you years ago--as Guy Rivers Ilove you still. The life of Ralph Colleton is forfeit--for everforfeit--and a few days only interpose between him and eternity. I alonecan save him--I can give him freedom; and, in doing so, I shall riskmuch, and sacrifice not a little. I am ready for this risk--I amprepared for every sacrifice--I will save him at all hazards from hisdoom, upon one condition!"

"Speak! speak!"

"That you be mine--that you fly with me--that in the wild regions of thewest, where I will build you a cottage and worship you as my own forestdivinity, you take up your abode with me, and be my wife. My wife!--allforms shall be complied with, and every ceremony which society may callfor. Nay, shrink not back thus--" seeing her recoil in horror and scornat the suggestion--"beware how you defy me--think, that I have his lifein my hands--think, that I can speak his doom or his safety--think, before you reply!"

"There is no time necessary for thought, sir--none--none. It can not be. I can not comply with the conditions which you propose. I would diefirst. "

"And he will die too. Be not hasty, Miss Colleton--remember--it is notmerely your death but his--his death upon the gallows--"

"Spare me! spare me!"

"The halter--the crowd--the distorted limb--the racked frame--"

"Horrible--horrible!"

"Would you see this--know this, and reflect upon the shame, the mentalagony, far greater than all, of such a death to him?"

With a strong effort, she recovered her composure, though but an instantbefore almost convulsed--

"Have you no other terms, Mr. Rivers?"

"None--none. Accept them, and he lives--I will free him, as I promise. Refuse them--deny me, and he must die, and nothing may save him then. "

"Then he must die, sir!--we must both die--before we choose such terms. Sir, let me call my father. Our conference must end here. You havechosen a cruel office, but I can bear its infliction. You havetantalized a weak heart with hope, only to make it despair the more. ButI am now strong, sir--stronger than ever--and we speak no more on thissubject. "

"Yet pause--to relent even to-morrow may be too late. To-night you mustdetermine, or never. "

"I have already determined. It is impossible that I can determineotherwise. No more, sir!"

"There is one, lady--one young form--scarcely less beautiful thanyourself, who would make the same--ay, and a far greater--sacrifice thanthis, for the safety of Ralph Colleton. One far less happy in his lovethan you, who would willingly die for him this hour. Would you be lessready than she is for such a sacrifice?"

"No, not less ready for death--as I live--not less willing to free himwith the loss of my own life. But not ready for a sacrifice likethis--not ready for this. "

"You have doomed him!"

"Be it so, sir. Be it so. Let me now call my father. "

"Yet think, ere it be too late--once gone, not even your words shallcall me back. "

"Believe me, I shall not desire it. "

The firmness of the maiden was finely contrasted with the disappointmentof the outlaw. He was not less mortified with his own defeat than awedby the calm and immoveable bearing, the sweet, even dignity, which thediscussion of a subject so trying to her heart, and the overthrow of allhope which her own decision must have occasioned, had failed utterly toaffect. He would have renewed his suggestions, but while repeating them, a sudden commotion in the village--the trampling of feet--the buzz ofmany voices, and sounds of wide-spread confusion, contributed to abridgean interview already quite too long. The outlaw rushed out of theapartment, barely recognising, at his departure, the presence of ColonelColleton, whom his daughter had now called in. The cause of the uproarwe reserve for another chapter. 

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

PROPOSED RESCUE. 

The pledge which Munro had given to his niece in behalf of Colleton wasproductive of no small inconvenience to the former personage. Thoughhimself unwilling--we must do him the justice to believe--that the youthshould perish for a crime so completely his own, he had in him no greatdeal of that magnanimous virtue, of itself sufficiently strong to havepersuaded him to such a risk, as that which he had undertaken at thesupplication of Lucy. The more he reflected upon the matter, the moretrifling seemed the consideration. With such a man, to reflect is simplyto _calculate_. Money, now--the spoil or the steed of thetraveller--would have been a far more decided stimulant to action. Inregarding such an object, he certainly would have overlooked much of thedanger, and have been less heedful of the consequences. The selfishnessof the motive would not merely have sanctioned, but have smoothed theenterprise; and he thought too much with the majority--allowing for anylurking ambition in his mind--not to perceive that where there is gainthere must be glory. 

None of these consolatory thoughts came to him in the contemplation ofhis present purpose. To adventure his own life--perhaps to exchangeplaces with the condemned he proposed to save--though, in such a risk, he only sought to rescue the innocent from the doom justly due tohimself--was a flight of generous impulse somewhat above the usual aimof the landlord; and, but for the impelling influence of his niece--aninfluence which, in spite of his own evil habits, swayed him beyond hisconsciousness--we should not now have to record the almost redeeminginstance in the events of his life at this period--the _one_ virtue, contrasting with, if it could not lessen or relieve, the long tissue ofhis offences. 

There were some few other influences, however--if this were notenough--coupled with that of his niece's entreaty, which gave strengthand decision to his present determination. Munro was not insensible tothe force of superior character, and a large feeling of veneration ledhim, from the first, to observe the lofty spirit and high sense of honorwhich distinguished the bearing and deportment of Ralph Colleton. Hecould not but admire the native superiority which characterized themanner of the youth, particularly when brought into contrast with thatof Guy Rivers, for whom the same feeling had induced a like, though nota parallel respect, on the part of the landlord. 

It may appear strange to those accustomed only to a passing andsuperficial estimate of the thousand inconsistencies which make up thatcontradictory creation, the human mind, that such should be a feature inthe character of a ruffian like Munro; but, to those who examine forthemselves, we shall utter nothing novel when we assert, that a respectfor superiority of mental and even mere moral attribute, enters largelyinto the habit of the ruffian generally. The murderer is notunfrequently found to possess benevolence as well as veneration in ahigh degree; and the zealots of all countries and religions are almostinvariably creatures of strong and violent passions, to which theextravagance of their zeal and devotion furnishes an outlet, which isnot always innocent in its direction or effects. Thus, in theirenthusiasm--which is only a minor madness--whether the Hindoo bramin orthe Spanish bigot, the English roundhead or the follower of the "onlytrue faith" at Mecca, be understood, it is but a word and a blow--thoughthe word be a hurried prayer to the God of their adoration, and the blowbe aimed with all the malevolence of hell at the bosom of afellow-creature. There is no greater inconsistency in the one characterthan in the other. The temperament which, under false tuition, makes thezealot, and drives him on to the perpetration of wholesale murder, whileuttering a prayer to the Deity, prompts the same individual who, as anassassin or a highwayman, cuts your throat, and picks your pocket, andat the next moment bestows his ill-gotten gains without reservation uponthe starving beggar by the wayside. 

There was yet another reason which swayed Munro not a little in hisdetermination, if possible, to save the youth--and this was a lurkingsentiment of hostility to Rivers. His pride, of late, on many occasions, had taken alarm at the frequent encroachments of his comrade upon itsboundaries. The too much repeated display of that very mentalsuperiority in his companion, which had so much fettered him, hadaroused his own latent sense of independence; and the utterance ofsundry pungent rebukes on the part of Rivers had done much towardsprovoking within him a new sentiment of dislike for that person, whichgladly availed itself of the first legitimate occasion for exercise anddevelopment. The very superiority which commanded, and which he honored, he hated for that very reason; and, in our analysis of moral dependence, we may add, that, in Greece, and the mere Hob of the humble farmhouse, Munro might have been the countryman to vote Aristides into banishmentbecause of his reputation for justice. The barrier is slight, the spaceshort, the transition easy, from one to the other extreme of injustice;and the peasant who voted for the banishment of the just man, in anothersphere and under other circumstances, would have been a Borgia or aCatiline. With this feeling in his bosom, Munro was yet unapprized ofits existence. It is not with the man, so long hurried forward by hisimpulses as at last to become their creature, to analyze either theircharacter or his own. Vice, though itself a monster, is yet the slave ofa thousand influences, not absolutely vicious in themselves; and theirdesires it not uncommonly performs when blindfolded. It carries theknife, it strikes the blow, but is not always the chooser of its ownvictim. 

But, fortunately for Ralph Colleton, whatever and how many or how fewwere the impelling motives leading to this determination, Munro haddecided upon the preservation of his life; and, with that energy ofwill, which, in a rash office, or one violative of the laws, he hadalways heretofore displayed, he permitted no time to escape himunemployed for the contemplated purpose. His mind immediately addresseditself to its chosen duty, and, in one disguise or another, and thoseperpetually changing, he perambulated the village, making hisarrangements for the desired object. The difficulties in his way were nottrifling in character nor few in number; and the greatest of these wasthat of finding coadjutors willing to second him. He felt assured thathe could confide in none of his well-known associates, who were to a manthe creatures of Rivers; that outlaw, by a liberality which seemed todisdain money, and yielding every form of indulgence, having acquiredover them an influence almost amounting to personal affection. Fortunately for his purpose, Rivers dared not venture much into thevillage or its neighborhood; therefore, though free from any fear ofobstruction from one in whose despite his whole design was undertaken, Munro was yet not a little at a loss for his co-operation. To whom, atthat moment, could he turn, without putting himself in the power of anenemy? Thought only raised up new difficulties in his way, and in utterdespair of any better alternative, though scarcely willing to trust toone of whom he deemed so lightly, his eyes were compelled to rest, inthe last hope, upon the person of the pedler, Bunce. 

Bunce, if the reader will remember, had, upon his release from prison, taken up his abode temporarily in the village. Under the protection nowafforded by the presence of the judge, and the other officers ofjustice--not to speak of the many strangers from the adjacent parts, whom one cause or another had brought to the place--he had presumed toexhibit his person with much more audacity and a more perfect freedomfrom apprehension than he had ever shown in the same region before. Henow--for ever on the go--thrust himself fearlessly into every cot andcorner. No place escaped the searching analysis of his glance; and, in ascrutiny so nice, it was not long before he had made the acquaintance ofeverybody and everything at all worthy, in that region, to be known. Hecould now venture to jostle Pippin with impunity; for, since the trialin which he had so much blundered, the lawyer had lost no small portionof the confidence and esteem of his neighbors. Accused of theabandonment of his client--an offence particularly monstrous in theestimation of those who are sufficiently interested to acquire apersonal feeling in such matters--and compelled, as he had been--a worsefeature still in the estimation of the same class--to "eat his ownwords"--he had lost caste prodigiously in the last few days, and hisfine sayings lacked their ancient flavor in the estimation of hisneighbors. His speeches sunk below par along with himself; and thepedler, in his contumelious treatment of the disconsolate jurist, simplyobeyed and indicated the direction of the popular opinion. One or tworude replies, and a nudge which the elbow of Bunce, effected in the ribsof the lawyer, did provoke the latter so far as to repeat his threat onthe subject of the prosecution for the horse; but the pedler snapped hisfingers in his face as he did so, and bade him defiance. He alsoreminded Pippin of the certain malfeasances to which he had referredpreviously, and the consciousness of the truth was sufficiently strongand awkward to prevent his proceeding to any further measure of disquietwith the offender. Thus, without fear, and with an audacity of which hewas not a little proud, Bunce perambulated the village and itsneighborhood, in a mood and with a deportment he had never ventured uponbefore in that quarter. 

He had a variety of reasons for lingering in the village seemingly in astate of idleness. Bunce was a long-sighted fellow, and beheld thepromise which it held forth, at a distance, of a large and thrivingbusiness in the neighborhood; and he had too much sagacity not to beperfectly aware of the advantage, to a tradesman, resulting from a prioroccupation of the ground. He had not lost everything in theconflagration which destroyed his cart-body and calicoes; for, apartfrom sundry little debts due him in the surrounding country, he hadcarefully preserved around his body, in a black silk handkerchief, a small wallet, holding a moderate amount of the best bank paper. Bunce, among other things, had soon learned to discriminate betweengood and bad paper, and the result of his education in this respectassured him of the perfect integrity of the three hundred and odddollars which kept themselves snugly about his waist--ready to beexpended for clocks and calicoes, horn buttons and wooden combs, knives, and negro-handkerchiefs, whenever their proprietor should determine upona proper whereabout in which to fix himself. Bunce had grown tired ofpeddling--the trade was not less uncertain than fatiguing. Besides, travelling so much among the southrons, he had imbibed not a few oftheir prejudices against his vocation, and, to speak the truth, hadgrown somewhat ashamed of his present mode of life. He was becomingrapidly aristocratic, as we may infer from a very paternal and somewhatpatronizing epistle, which he despatched about this time to his elderbrother and copartner, Ichabod Bunce, who carried on his portion of thebusiness at their native place in Meriden, Connecticut. He told him, ina manner and vein not less lofty than surprising to his coadjutor, thatit "would not be the thing, no how, to keep along, lock and lock withhim, in the same gears. " It was henceforward his "idee to drive on hisown hook. Times warn't as they used to be;" and the fact was--he did notsay it in so many words--the firm of Ichabod Bunce and Brother wasscarcely so creditable to the latter personage as he should altogetherdesire among his southern friends and acquaintances. He "guessed, therefore, best haul off, " and each--here Bunce showed his respect forhis new friends by quoting their phraseology--"must paddle his owncanoe. "

We have minced this epistle, and have contented ourselves with providinga scrap, here and there, to the reader--despairing, as we utterly do, togather from memory a full description of a performance so perfectlyunique in its singular compound of lofty vein, with the patois andvulgar contractions of his native, and those common to his adoptedcountry. 

It proved to his more staid and veteran brother, that Jared was the onlyone of his family likely to get above his bread and business; but, whilehe lamented the wanderings and follies of his brother, he could not helpenjoying a sentiment of pride as he looked more closely into the matter. "Who knows, " thought the clockmaker to himself, "but that Jared, who isa monstrous sly fellow, will pick up some southern heiress, with athousand blackies, and an hundred acres of prime cotton-land to each, and thus ennoble the blood of the Bunces by a rapid ascent, through thevarious grades of office in a sovereign state, until a seat inCongress--in the cabinet itself--receives him;"--and Ichabod grew morethan ever pleased and satisfied with the idea, when he reflected thatJared had all along been held to possess a goodly person, and a veryfair development of the parts of speech. He even ventured to speculateupon the possibility of Jared passing into the White House--the dawn ofthat era having already arrived, which left nobody safe from thecrowning honors of the republic. 

Whether the individual of whom so much was expected, himself entertainedany such anticipations or ideas, we do not pretend to say; but, certainit is, that the southern candidate for the popular suffrage could neverhave taken more pains to extend his acquaintance or to ingratiatehimself among the people, than did our worthy friend the pedler. In thebrief time which he had passed in the village after the arrest ofColleton, he had contrived to have something to say or do with almosteverybody in it. He had found a word for his honor the judge; and havingonce spoken with that dignitary, Bunce was not the man to fail at futurerecognition. No distance of manner, no cheerless response, to themodestly urged or moderate suggestion, could prompt him to forego anacquaintance. With the jurors he had contrived to enjoy a sup of whiskeyat the tavern bar-room, and had actually, and with a manner the mostadroit, gone deeply into the distribution of an entire packet ofsteel-pens, one of which he accommodated to a reed, and to the fingersof each of the worthy twelve, who made the panel on thatoccasion--taking care, however, to assure them of the value of the gift, by saying, that if he were to sell the article, twenty-five cents eachwould be his lowest price, and he could scarcely save himself at that. But this was not all. Having seriously determined upon abiding at thesouth, he ventured upon some few of the practices prevailing in thatregion, and on more than one occasion, a gallon of whiskey hadcirculated "free gratis, " and "_pro bono publico_, " he added, somewhatmaliciously, at the cost of our worthy tradesman. These things, it maynot be necessary to say, had elevated that worthy into no moderateimportance among those around him; and, that he himself was notaltogether unconscious of the change, it may be remarked that an ugly_kink_, or double in his back--the consequence of his pack and pasthumility--had gone down wonderfully, keeping due pace in its descentwith the progress of his upward manifestations. 

Such was the somewhat novel position of Bunce, in the village andneighborhood of Chestatee, when the absolute necessity of the caseprompted Munro's application to him for assistance in the proposedextrication of Ralph Colleton. The landlord had not been insensible tothe interest which the pedler had taken in the youth's fortune, and notdoubting his perfect sympathy with the design in view, he felt the fewerscruples in approaching him for the purpose. Putting on, therefore, thedisguise, which, as an old woman, had effectually concealed his trueperson from Bunce on a previous occasion, he waited until evening hadset in fairly, and then proceeded to the abode of him he sought. 

The pedler was alone in his cottage, discussing, most probably, hisfuture designs, and calculating to a nicety the various profits of eachpremeditated branch of his future business. Munro's disguise wasintended rather to facilitate his progress without detection through thevillage, than to impose upon the pedler merely; but it was not unwisethat he should be ignorant also of the person with whom he dealt. Affecting a tone of voice, therefore, which, however masculine, was yettotally unlike his own, the landlord demanded a private interview, whichwas readily granted, though, as the circumstance was unusual, with somefew signs of trepidation. Bunce was no lover of old women, nor, indeed, of young ones either. He was habitually and constitutionally cold andimpenetrable on the subject of all passions, save that of trade, andwould rather have sold a dress of calico, than have kissed the prettiestdamsel in creation. His manner, to the old woman who appeared beforehim, seemed that of one who had an uncomfortable suspicion of havingpleased rather more than he intended; and it was no small relief, therefore, the first salutation being over, when the masculine tonesreassured him. Munro, without much circumlocution, immediately proceededto ask whether he was willing to lend a hand for the help of Colleton, and to save him from the gallows?

"Colleton!--save Master Colleton!--do tell--is that what you mean?"

"It is. Are you the man to help your friend--will you make one alongwith others who are going to try for it?"

"Well, now, don't be rash; give a body time to consider. It's pesky fullof trouble; dangerous, too. It's so strange!--" and the pedler showedhimself a little bewildered by the sudden manner in which the subjecthad been broached. 

"There's little time to be lost, Bunce: if we don't set to work at once, we needn't set to work at all. Speak out, man! will you join us, now ornever, to save the young fellow?"

With something like desperation in his manner, as if he scrupled tocommit himself too far, yet had the will to contribute considerably tothe object, the pedler replied:--

"Save the young fellow? well, I guess I will, if you'll jest say what'sto be done. I'll lend a hand, to be sure, if there's no trouble to comeof it. He's a likely chap, and not so stiff neither, though I did counthim rather high-headed at first; but after that, he sort a smootheddown, and now I don't know nobody I'd sooner help jest now out of theslush: but I can't see how we're to set about it. "

"Can you fight, Bunce? Are you willing to knock down and drag out, whenthere's need for it?"

"Why, if I was fairly listed, and if so be there's no law agin it. Idon't like to run agin the law, no how; and if you could get a bodyclear on it, why, and there's no way to do the thing no other how, Iguess I shouldn't stand too long to consider when it's to help afriend. "

"It may be no child's play, Bunce, and there must be stout heart andfree hand. One mustn't stop for trifles in such cases; and, as for thelaw, when a man's friend's in danger, he must make his own law. "

"That wan't my edication, no how; my principles goes agin it. I mustthink about it. I must have a little time to consider. " But the landlordsaw no necessity for consideration, and, fearful that the scruples ofBunce would be something too strong, he proceeded to smooth away thedifficulty. 

"After all, Bunce, the probability is, we shall be able to manage theaffair without violence: so we shall try, for I like blows just aslittle as anybody else; but it's best, you know, to make ready for theworst. Nobody knows how things will turn up; and if it comes to thescratch, why, one mustn't mind knocking a fellow on the head if hestands in the way. "

"No, to be sure not. 'Twould be foolish to stop and think about what'slaw, and what's not law, and be knocked down yourself. "

"Certainly, you're right, Bunce; that's only reason. "

"And yet, mister, I guess you wouldn't want that I should know your raalname, now, would you? or maybe you're going to tell it to me now?Well--"

"To the business: what matters it whether I have a name or not? I have afist, you see, and--"

"Yes, yes, I see, " exclaimed he of the notions, slightly retreating, asMunro, suiting the action to the word, thrust, rather more closely tothe face of his companion than was altogether encouraging, the ponderousmass which courtesy alone would consider a fist--

"Well, I don't care, you see, to know the name, mister; but somehow itraally aint the thing, no how, to be mistering nobody knows who. I seeyou aint a woman plain enough from your face, and I pretty much concludeyou must be a man; though you have got on--what's that, now? It's a kindof calico, I guess; but them's not fast colors, friend. I should say, now, you had been taken in pretty much by that bit of goods. It aint thekind of print, now, that's not afeard of washing. "

"And if I have been taken in, Bunce, in these calicoes, you're the manthat has done it, " said the landlord, laughing. "This piece was sold byyou into my own hands, last March was a year, when you came back fromthe Cherokees. "

"Now, don't! Well, I guess there must be some mistake; you aint sure, now, friend: might be some other dealer that you bought from?"

"None other than yourself, Bunce. You are the man, and I can bring adozen to prove it on you. "

"Well, I 'spose what you say's true, and that jest let's me know how tomister you now, 'cause, you see, I do recollect now all about who I soldthat bit of goods to that season. "

The landlord had been overreached; and, amused with the ingenuity of thetrader, he contented himself with again lifting the huge fist in athreatening manner, though the smile which accompanied the action fairlydeprived it of its terrors. 

"Well, well, " said the landlord "we burn daylight in such talk as this. I come to you as the only man who will or can help me in this matter;and Lucy Munro tells me you will--you made her some such promise. "

"Well, now, I guess I must toe the chalk, after all; though, to saytruth, I don't altogether remember giving any such promise. It must beright, though, if she says it; and sartain she's a sweet body--I'll gomy length for her any day. "

"You'll not lose by it; and now hear my plan. You know Brooks, thejailer, and his bulldog brother-in-law, Tongs? I saw you talking withboth of them yesterday. "

"Guess you're right. Late acquaintance, though; they aint neither on 'emto my liking. "

"Enough for our purpose. Tongs is a brute who will drink as long as hecan stand, and some time after it. Brooks is rather shy of it, but hewill drink enough to stagger him, for he is pretty weak-headed. We haveonly to manage these fellows, and there's the end of it. They keep thejail. "

"Yes, I know; but you don't count young Brooks?"

"Oh, he's a mere boy. Don't matter about him. He's easily managed. Nowhear to my design. Provide your jug of whiskey, with plenty of eggs andsugar, so that they shan't want anything, and get them here. Send forTongs at once, and let him only know what's in the wind; then askBrooks, and he will be sure to force him to come. Say nothing of theboy; let him stay or come, as they think proper. To ask all might makethem suspicious. They'll both come. They never yet resisted a spiritualtemptation. When here, ply them well, and then we shall go on accordingto circumstances. Brooks carries the keys along with him: get him oncein for it, and I'll take them from him. If he resists, or any of them--"

"Knock 'em down?"

"Ay, quickly as you say it!"

"Well, but how if they do not bring the boy, and they leave him in thejail?"

"What then! Can't we knock him down too?"

"But, then, they'll fix the whole business on my head. Won't Brooks andTongs say where they got drunk, and then shan't I be in a scant fixin'?"

"They dare not. They won't confess themselves drunk--it's as much astheir place is worth. They will say nothing till they got sober, andthen they'll get up some story that will hurt nobody. "

"But--"

"But what? will you never cease to but against obstacles? Are you aman--are you ready--bent to do what you can? Speak out, and let me knowif I can depend on you, " exclaimed the landlord, impatiently. 

"Now, don't be in a passion! You're as soon off as a fly-machine, and athought sooner. Why, didn't I say, now, I'd go my length for the younggentleman? And I'm sure I'm ready, and aint at all afeared, no how. Ionly did want to say that, if the thing takes wind, as how it raalystood, it spiles all my calkilations. I couldn't 'stablish a consarnhere, I guess, for a nation long spell of time after. "

"And what then? where's your calculations? Get the young fellow clear, and what will his friends do for you? Think of that, Bunce. You go offto Carolina with him, and open store in his parts, and he buys from youall he wants--his negro-cloths, his calicoes, his domestics, andstripes, and everything. Then his family, and friends and neighbors, under his recommendation--they all buy from you; and then the presentsthey will make you--the fine horses--and who knows but even a plantationand negroes may all come out of this one transaction?"

"To be sure--who knows? Well, things do look temptatious enough, andthere's a mighty deal of reason, now, in what you say. Large businessthat, I guess, in the long run. Aint I ready? Let's see--a gallon ofwhiskey--aint a gallon a heap too much for only three people?"

"Better have ten than want. Then there must be pipes, tobacco, cigars;and mind, when they get well on in drinking, I shall look to you throughthat window. Be sure and come to me then. Make some pretence, for, asBrooks may be slow and cautious, I shall get something to drop into hisliquor--a little mixture which I shall hand you. "

"What mixture? No pizen, I hope! I don't go that, not I--no pizening forme. "

"Pshaw! fool--nonsense! If I wanted their lives, could I not choose ashorter method, and a weapon which I could more truly rely upon than Iever can upon you? It is to make them sleep that I shall give you themixture. "

"Oh, laudnum. Well, now why couldn't you say laudnum at first, withoutfrightening people so with your mixtures'?--There's no harm in laudnum, for my old aunt Tabitha chaws laudnum-gum jest as other folks chawstobacco. "

"Well, that's all--it's only to get them asleep sooner. See now aboutyour men at once. We have no time to lose; and, if this contrivancefails, I must look about for another. It must be done to-night, or itcan not be done at all. In an hour I shall return; and hope, by thattime, to find you busy with their brains. Ply them well--don't be slowor stingy--and see that you have enough of whiskey. Here's money--haveeverything ready. "

The pedler took the money--why not? it was only proper to spoil theEgyptians--and, after detailing fully his plans, Munro left him. Buncegave himself but little time and less trouble for reflection. Theprospects of fortune which the landlord had magnified to his vision, were quite too enticing to be easily resisted by one whose _morale_ wasnot of a sort to hold its ground against his habitual cupidity andnewly-awakened ambition; and having provided everything, as agreed upon, necessary for the accommodation of the jailer and his assistant, Buncesallied forth for the more important purpose of getting his company. 

CHAPTER XXXVII. 

SACK AND SUGAR. 

The task of getting the desired guests, as Munro had assured him, was byno means difficult, and our pedler was not long in reporting progress. Tongs, a confirmed toper, was easily persuaded to anything thatguarantied hard drinking. He luxuriated in the very idea of a debauch. Brooks, his brother-in-law, was a somewhat better and less pregnableperson; but he was a widower, had been a good deal with Tongs, and, whatwith the accustomed loneliness of the office which he held, and thegloomy dwelling in which it required he should live, he found it notsuch an easy matter to resist the temptation of social enjoyment, andall the pleasant associations of that good-fellowship, which Bunce hadtaken care to depict before the minds of both parties. The attractionsof Bunce himself, by-the-way, tended, not less than the whiskey andcigars, to persuade the jailer, and to neutralize most of the existingprejudices current among those around him against his tribe. He hadtravelled much, and was no random observer. He had seen a great deal, aswell of human nature as of places; could tell a good story, in goodspirit; and was endowed with a dry, sneaking humor, that came outunawares upon his hearers, and made them laugh frequently in spite ofthemselves. 

Bunce had been now sufficiently long in the village to enable thoseabout him to come at a knowledge of his parts; and his accomplishments, in the several respects referred to, were by this time generally wellunderstood. The inducement was sufficiently strong with the jailer; and, at length, having secured the main entrance of the jail carefully, hestrapped the key to a leathern girdle, which he wore about him, lodgingit in the breast-pocket of his coat, where he conceived it perfectlysafe, he prepared to go along with his worthy brother-in-law. Nor wasthe younger Brooks forgotten. Being a tall, good-looking lad of sixteen, Tongs insisted it was high time he should appear among men; and theinvitation of the pedler was opportune, as affording a happy occasionfor his initiation into some of those practices, esteemed, by a liberalcourtesy, significant of manliness. 

With everything in proper trim, Bunce stood at the entrance of hislodge, ready to receive them. The preliminaries were soon despatched, and we behold them accordingly, all four, comfortably seated around ahuge oaken table in the centre of the apartment. There was the jug, andthere the glasses--the sugar, the peppermint, the nutmegs--the pipes andtobacco--all convenient, and sufficiently tempting for the unscrupulous. The pedler did the honors with no little skill, and Tongs plungedheadlong into the debauch. The whiskey was never better, and found, forthis reason, anything but security where it stood. Glass after glass, emptied only to be replenished, attested the industrious hospitality ofthe host, not less than its own excellence. Tongs, averaging threedraughts to one of his companion's, was soon fairly under way in hisprogress to that state of mental self-glorification in which the worldceases to have vicissitudes, and the animal realizes the abstractions ofan ancient philosophy, and denies all pain to life. 

Brooks, however, though not averse to the overcoming element, had moreof that vulgar quality of prudence than his brother-in-law, and farmore than was thought amiable in the opinion of the pedler. For sometime, therefore, he drank with measured scrupulousness; and it waswith no small degree of anxiety that Bunce plied him with thebottle--complaining of his unsociableness, and watching, with theintensity of any other experimentalist, the progress of his scheme uponhim. As for the lad--the younger Brooks--it was soon evident that, oncepermitted, and even encouraged to drink, as he had been, by hissuperiors, he would not, after a little while, give much if anyinconvenience to the conspirators. The design of the pedler wasconsiderably advanced by Tongs, who, once intoxicated himself, was notslow in the endeavor to bring all around him under the same influence. 

"Drink, Brooks--drink, old fellow, " he exclaimed; "as you are a trueman, drink, and don't fight shy of the critter! Whiskey, my boy--oldMonongahely like this, I say--whiskey is wife and children--house andhorse--lands and niggers--liberty and [hiccup] plenty to live on! Don'tyou see how I drive ahead, and don't care for the hind wheels? It's allowing to whiskey! Grog, I say--Hark ye, Mr. Pedler--grog, I say, is thewheels of life: it carries a man _for'ad_. Why don't men go _for'ad_ inthe world? What's the reason now? I'll tell you. They're afeared. Well, now, who's afeared when he's got a broadside of whiskey in him?Nobody--nobody's afeared but you--you, Ben Brooks, you're a d----dcrick--crick--you're always afeared of something, or nothing; for, afterall, whenever you're afeared of something, it turns out to be nothing!All 'cause you don't drink like a man. That's his cha-cha-_rack_-ter, Mr. Bunce; and it's all owing 'cause he won't drink!"

"Guess there's no sparing of reason in that bit of argument, now, I tellyou, Mr. Tongs. Bless my heart--it's no use talking, no how, but I'd abeen clean done up, dead as a door-nail, if it hadn't been for drink. Strong drink makes strong. Many's the time, and the freezing cold, andthe hard travelling in bad roads, and other dreadful fixins I've seed, would soon ha' settled me up, if it hadn't been for that same good stuffthere, that Master Brooks does look as if he was afeared on. Now, don'tbe afeared, Master Brooks. There's no teeth in whiskey, and it neverbites nobody. "

"No, " said Brooks, with the utmost simplicity; "only when they take toomuch. "

"How?" said the pedler, looking as if the sentence contained somemysterious meaning. Brooks might have explained, but for Tongs, whodashed in after this fashion:--

"And who takes too much? You don't mean to say I takes too much, BenBrooks. I'd like to hear the two-legged critter, now, who'd say I takesmore of the stuff than does me good. I drinks in reason, for the benefitof my health; and jest, you see, as a sort of medicine, Mr. Bunce; and, Brooks, you knows I never takes a drop more than is needful. "

"Sometimes--sometimes, Tongs, you know you ain't altogether right underit--now and then you take a leetle too much for your good, " was the mildresponse of Brooks, to the almost fierce speech of his less scrupulousbrother-in-law. The latter, thus encountered, changed his ground withsingular rapidity. 

"Well, by dogs!--and what of that?--and who is it says I shan't, if it'smy notion? I'd like now to see the boy that'll stand up agin me and makesuch a speech. Who says I shan't take what I likes--and that I takesmore than is good for me? Does you say so, Mr. Bunce?"

"No, thank ye, no. How should I say what ain't true? You don't take halfenough, now, it's my idee, neither on you. It's all talk and no cider, and that I call monstrous dry work. Come, pass round the bottle. Here'sto you, Master Tongs--Master Brooks, I drink your very good health. Butfill up, fill up--you ain't got nothing in your tumbler. "

"No, he's a sneak--you're a sneak, Brooks, if you don't fill up to thehub. Go the whole hog, boy, and don't twist your mouth as if the stuffwas physic. It's what I call nation good, now; no mistake in it, I tellyou. "

"Hah! that's a true word--there's no mistake in this stuff. It is jestnow what I calls ginywine. "

"True Monongahely, Master Bunce. Whoever reckoned to find a Yankeepedler with a _raal_ good taste for Monongahely? Give us your fist, Mr. Bunce; I see you know's what's what. You ain't been among us fornothing. You've larned something by travelling; and, by dogs! you'llcome to be something yit, if you live long enough--if so be you can onlykeep clear of the _old range_. "

The pedler winced under the equivocal compliments of his companion, butdid not suffer anything of this description to interfere with thevigorous prosecution of his design. He had the satisfaction to perceivethat Brooks had gradually accommodated himself not a little to theelement in which his brother-in-law, Tongs, was already floatinghappily; and the boy, his son, already wore the features of one overwhose senses the strong liquor was momentarily obtaining the mastery. But these signs did not persuade him into any relaxation of his labors;on the contrary, encouraged by success, he plied the draughts morefrequently and freely than before, and with additional evidence of theinfluence of the potation upon those who drank, when he found that hewas enabled, unperceived, to deposit the contents of his own tumbler, inmost instances, under the table around which they gathered. In the cloudof smoke encircling them, and sent up from their several pipes, Buncecould perceive the face of his colleague in the conspiracy peering inoccasionally upon the assembly, and at length, on some slight pretence, he approached the aperture agreeably to the given signal, and receivedfrom the hands of the landlord a vial containing a strong infusion ofopium, which he placed cautiously in his bosom, and awaited the momentof more increased stupefaction to employ it. So favorably had the liquoroperated by this time upon the faculties of all, that the elder Brooksgrew garrulous and full of jest at the expense of his son--who now, completely overcome, had sunk down with his head upon the table in aprofound slumber. The pedler joined, as well as Tongs, in themerriment--this latter personage, by the way, having now put himselfcompletely under the control of the ardent spirit, and exhibiting allthe appearance of a happy madness. He howled like the wolf, imitatedsundry animals, broke out into catches of song, which he invariablyfailed to finish, and, at length, grappling his brother-in-law, Brooks, around the neck, with both arms, as he sat beside him, he swore by allthat was strong in _Monongahely_, he should give them a song. 

"That's jest my idee, now, Master Tongs. A song is a main fine thing, now, to fill up the chinks. First a glass, then a puff or two, and thena song. "

Brooks, who, in backwood parlance, was "considerably up a stump"--thatis to say, half drunk--after a few shows of resistance, and theutterance of some feeble scruples, which were all rapidly set aside byhis companions, proceeded to pour forth the rude melody which follows:--

 THE HOW-D'YE-DO BOY. 

 "For a how-d'ye-do boy, 'tis pleasure enough To have a sup of such goodly stuff-- To float away in a sky of fog, And swim the while in a sea of grog; So, high or low, Let the world go, The how-d'ye-do boy don't care for it--no--no--no--no. "

Tonga, who seemed to be familiar with the uncouth dithyrambic, joined inthe chorus, with a tumultuous discord, producing a most admirableeffect; the pedler dashing in at the conclusion, and shouting the_finale_ with prodigious compass of voice. The song proceeded:--

 "For a how-d'ye-do boy, who smokes and drinks, He does not care who cares or thinks; Would Grief deny him to laugh and sing, He knocks her down with a single sling-- So, high or low, Let the world go, The how-d'ye-do boy don't care for it--no--no--no--no. 

 "The how-d'ye-do boy is a boy of the night-- It brings no cold, and it does not fright; He buttons his coat and laughs at the shower, And he has a song for the darkest hour-- So, high or low, Let the world go, The how-d'ye-do boy don't care for it--no--no--no--no. "

The song gave no little delight to all parties. Tongs shouted, thepedler roared applause, and such was the general satisfaction, that itwas no difficult thing to persuade Brooks to the demolition of a bumper, which Bunce adroitly proposed to the singer's own health. It was whilethe hilarity thus produced was at its loudest, that the pedler seizedthe chance to pour a moderate portion of the narcotic into the severalglasses of his companions, while a second time filling them; but, unfortunately for himself, not less than the design in view, just atthis moment Brooks grew awkwardly conscious of his own increasingweakness, having just reason enough left to feel that he had alreadydrunk too much. With a considerable show of resolution, therefore, hethrust away the glass so drugged for his benefit, and declared hisdetermination to do no more of that business. He withstood all thesuggestions of the pedler on the subject, and the affair began to looksomething less than hopeless when he proceeded to the waking up of hisson, who, overcome by the liquor, was busily employed in a profoundsleep, with his head upon the table. 

Tongs, who had lost nearly all the powers of action, though retainingnot a few of his parts of speech, now came in fortunately to the aid ofthe rather-discomfited pedler. Pouring forth a volley of oaths, in whichhis more temperate brother-in-law was denounced as a mean-spiritedcritter, who couldn't drink with his friend or fight with his enemy, hemade an ineffectual effort to grapple furiously with the offender, whilehe more effectually arrested his endeavor to waken up his son. It iswell, perhaps, that his animal man lacked something of its accustomedefficiency, and resolutely refused all co-operation with his mood; or, it is more than probable, such was his wrath, that his more staidbrother-in-law would have been subjected to some few personal tests ofblow and buffet. The proceedings throughout suggested to the mind of thepedler a mode of executing his design, by proposing a bumper all round, with the view of healing the breach between the parties, and as a finaldraught preparatory to breaking up. 

A suggestion so reasonable could not well be resisted; and, with thebest disposition in the world toward sobriety, Brooks was persuaded toassent to the measure. Unhappily, however, for the pedler, the measurewas so grateful to Tongs, that, before the former could officiate, thelatter, with a desperate effort, reached forward, and, possessinghimself of his own glass, he thrust another, which happened to be theonly undrugged one, and which Bunce had filled for himself, into thegrasp of the jailer. The glass designed for Brooks was now in thepedler's own hands, and no time was permitted him for reflection. With adoubt as to whether he had not got hold of the posset meant for hisneighbor, Bunce was yet unable to avoid the difficulty; and, in amoment, in good faith, the contents of the several glasses were fairlyemptied by their holders. There was a pause of considerable duration;the several parties sank back quietly into their seats; and, supposingfrom appearances that the effect of the drug had been complete, thepedler, though feeling excessively stupid and strange, had yetrecollection enough to give the signal to his comrade. A moment onlyelapsed, when Munro entered the apartment, seemingly unperceived by allbut the individual who had called him; and, as an air of considerablevacancy and repose overspread all the company he naturally enoughconcluded the potion had taken due hold of the senses of the one whom itwas his chief object to overcome. Without hesitation, therefore, andcertainly asking no leave, he thrust one hand into the bosom of theworthy jailer, while the other was employed in taking a sure hold of hiscollar. To his great surprise, however, he found that his man sufferedfrom no lethargy, though severely bitten by the drink. Brooks madefierce resistance; though nothing at such a time, or indeed at any time, in the hands of one so powerfully built as Munro. 

"Hello! now--who are you, I say? Hands off!--Tongs! Tongs!--Handsoff!--Tongs, I say--"

But Tongs heard not, or heeded not, any of the rapid exclamations of thejailer, who continued to struggle. Munro gave a single glance to thepedler, whose countenance singularly contrasted with the expressionwhich, in the performance of such a duty, and at such a time, it mighthave been supposed proper for it to have worn. There was a look from hiseyes of most vacant and elevated beatitude; a simper sat upon his lips, which parted ineffectually with the speech that he endeavored to make. Astill lingering consciousness of something to be done, prompted him torise, however, and stumble toward the landlord, who, while scufflingwith the jailer, thus addressed him:--

"Why, Bunce, it's but half done!--you've bungled. See, he's too sober byhalf!"

"Sober? no, no--guess he's drunk--drunk as a gentleman. I say, now--whatmust I do?"

"Do?" muttered the landlord, between his teeth, and pointing to Tongs, who reeled and raved in his seat, "do as I do!" And, at the word, with asingle blow of his fist, he felled the still refractory jailer with asmuch ease as if he had been an infant in his hands. The pedler, onlyhalf conscious, turned nevertheless to the half-sleeping Tongs, andresolutely drove his fist into his face. 

It was at that moment that the nostrum, having taken its full effect, deprived him of the proper force which alone could have made the blowavailable for the design which he had manfully enough undertaken. Theonly result of the effort was to precipitate him, with an impetus nothis own, though deriving much of its effect from his own weight, uponthe person of the enfeebled Tongs: the toper clasped him round with acorresponding spirit, and they both rolled upon the floor in utterimbecility, carrying with them the table around which they had beenseated, and tumbling into the general mass of bottles, pipes, andglasses, the slumbering youth, who, till that moment, lay altogetherignorant of the catastrophe. 

Munro, in the meanwhile, had possessed himself of the desired keys; andthrowing a sack, with which he had taken care to provide himself, overthe head of the still struggling but rather stupified jailer, he boundthe mouth of it with cords closely around his body, and left himrolling, with more elasticity and far less comfort than the rest of theparty, around the floor of the apartment. 

He now proceeded to look at the pedler; and seeing his condition, thoughmuch wondering at his falling so readily into his own temptation--neverdreaming of the mistake which he had made--he did not waste time torouse him up, as he plainly saw he could get no further service out ofhim. A moment's reflection taught him, that, as the condition of Buncehimself would most probably free him from any suspicion of design, theaffair told as well for his purpose as if the original arrangement hadsucceeded. Without more pause, therefore, he left the house, carefullylocking the doors on the outside, so as to delay egress, and hastenedimmediately to the release of the prisoner. 

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

FREEDOM--FLIGHT. 

The landlord lost no time in freeing the captive. A few minutes sufficedto find and fit the keys; and, penetrating at once to the cell of RalphColleton, he soon made the youth acquainted with as much of thecircumstances of his escape as might be thought necessary for thesatisfaction of his immediate curiosity. He wondered at the part takenby Munro in the affair, but hesitated not to accept his assistance. Though scrupulous, and rigidly so, not to violate the laws, and having aconscientious regard to all human and social obligations, he saw noimmorality in flying from a sentence, however agreeable to law, in allrespects so greatly at variance with justice. A second intimation wasnot wanting to his decision; and, without waiting until the landlordshould unlock the chain which secured him, he was about to dart forwardinto the passage, when the restraining check which it gave to hisforward movement warned him of the difficulty. 

Fortunately, the obstruction was small: the master-key, not only of thecells, but of the several locks to the fetters of the prison, was amongthe bunch of which the jailer had been dispossessed; and, when found, itperformed its office. The youth was again free; and a few moments onlyhad elapsed, after the departure of Munro from the house of the pedler, when both Ralph and his deliverer were upon the high-road, and bendingtheir unrestrained course toward the Indian nation. 

"And now, young man, " said the landlord, "you are free. I have performedmy promise to one whose desire in this matter jumps full with my own. Ishould have been troubled enough had you perished for the death ofForrester, though, to speak the truth, I should not have risked myself, as I have done to-night, but for my promise to her. "

"Who?--of whom do you speak? To whom do I owe all this, if it comes notof your own head?"

"And you do not conjecture? Have you not a thought on the subject? Wasit likely, think you, that the young woman, who did not fear to go to astranger's chamber at midnight, in order to save him from his enemy, would forget him altogether when a greater danger was before him?"

"And to Miss Munro again do I owe my life? Noble girl! how shall Irequite--how acknowledge my deep responsibility to her?"

"You can not! I have not looked on either of you for nothing; and myobservation has taught me all your feelings and hers. You can not rewardher as she deserves to be rewarded--as, indeed, she only can be rewardedby you, Mr. Colleton. Better, therefore, that you seek to make noacknowledgments. "

"What mean you? Your words have a signification beyond my comprehension. I know that I am unable to requite services such as hers, and such anendeavor I surely should not attempt; but that I feel gratitude for herinterposition may not well be questioned--the deepest gratitude; for inthis deed, with your aid, she relieves me, not merely from death, butthe worse agony of that dreadful form of death. My acknowledgments forthis service are nothing, I am well aware; but these she shall have: andwhat else have I to offer, which she would be likely to accept?"

"There is, indeed, one thing, Mr. Colleton--now that I reflect--which itmay be in your power to do, and which may relieve you of some of theobligations which you owe to her interposition, here and elsewhere. "

The landlord paused for a moment, and looked hesitatingly in Ralph'scountenance. The youth saw and understood the expression, and repliedreadily:--

"Doubt not, Mr. Munro, that I shall do all things consistent withpropriety, in my power to do, that may take the shape and character ofrequital for this service; anything for Miss Munro, for yourself orothers, not incompatible with the character of the gentleman. Speak, sir: if you can suggest a labor of any description, not under this head, which would be grateful to yourself or her, fear not to speak, and relyupon my gratitude to serve you both. "

"I thank you, Mr. Colleton; your frankness relieves me of some heavythoughts, and I shall open my mind freely to you on the subject whichnow troubles it. I need not tell you what my course of life has been. Ineed not tell you what it is now. Bad enough, Mr. Colleton--bad enough, as you must know by this time. Life, sir, is uncertain with all persons, but far more uncertain with him whose life is such as mine. I know notthe hour, sir, when I may be knocked on the head. I have no confidencein the people I go with; I have nothing to hope from the sympathies ofsociety, or the protection of the laws; and I have now arrived at thattime of life when my own experience is hourly repeating in my ears thewords of scripture: 'The wages of sin is death. ' Mine has been a life ofsin, Mr. Colleton, and I must look for its wages. These thoughts havebeen troubling me much of late, and I feel them particularly heavy now. But, don't think, sir, that fear for myself makes up my suffering. Ifear for that poor girl, who has no protector, and may be doomed to thecontrol of one who would make a hell on earth for all under hisinfluence. He has made a hell of it for me. "

"Who is he? whom do you mean?"

"You should know him well enough by this time, for he has sought yourlife often enough already--who should I mean, if not Guy Rivers?"

"And how is she at the mercy of this wretch?"

The landlord continued as if he had not heard the inquiry:

"Well, as I say, I know not how long I shall be able to take care of andprovide for that poor girl, whose wish has prompted me this night towhat I have undertaken. She was my brother's child, Mr. Colleton, and anoble creature she is. If I live, sir, she will have to become the wifeof Rivers; and, though I love her as my own--as I have never loved myown--yet she must abide the sacrifice from which, _while I live_, thereis no escape. But something tells me, sir, I have not long to live. Ihave a notion which makes me gloomy, and which has troubled me eversince you have been in prison. One dream comes to me everynight--whenever I sleep--and I wake, all over perspiration, and with aterror I'm ashamed of. In this dream I see my brother always, and alwayswith the same expression. He looks at me long and mournfully, and hisfinger is uplifted, as if in warning. I hear no word from his lips, butthey are in motion as if he spoke, and then he walks slowly away. Thus, for several nights, has my mind been haunted, and I'm sure it is not fornothing. It warns me that the time is not very far distant when I shallreceive the wages of a life like mine--the wages of sin--the death, perhaps--who knows?--the death of the felon!"

"These are fearful fancies, indeed, Mr. Munro; and, whether we think onthem or not, will have their influence over the strongest-minded of usall: but the thoughts which they occasion to your mind, while they mustbe painful enough, may be the most useful, if they awaken regret of thepast, and incite to amendment in the future. Without regarding them asthe presentiments of death, or of any fearful change, I look upon themonly as the result of your own calm reflections upon the unprofitablenature of vice; its extreme unproductiveness in the end, howeverenticing in the beginning; and the painful privations of human sympathyand society, which are the inevitable consequences of its indulgence. These fancies are the sleepless thoughts, the fruit of an active memory, which, at such a time, unrestrained by the waking judgment, mingles upthe counsels and the warnings of your brother and the past, with all theimages and circumstances of the present time. But--go on with yoursuggestion. Let me do what I can for the good of those in whom you areinterested. "

"You are right: whatever may be my apprehensions, life is uncertainenough, and needs no dreams to make it more so. Still, I can not ridmyself of this impression, which sticks to me like a shadow. Night afternight I have seen him--just as I saw him a year before he died. But hislooks were full of meaning; and when his lips opened, though I heard nota word, they seemed to me to say, 'The hour is at hand!' I am sure theyspoke the truth, and I must prepare for it. _If I live_, Mr. Colleton, Lucy must marry Rivers: there's no hope for her escape. If I die, there's no reason for the marriage, for she can then bid him defiance. She is willing to marry him now merely on my account; for, to say inwords, what you no doubt understand, _I_ am at his mercy. If I perishbefore the marriage take place, it will not take place; and she willthen need a protector--"

"Say no more, " exclaimed the youth, as the landlord paused for aninstant--"say no more. It will be as little as I can say, when I assureyou, that all that my family can do for her happiness--all that I cando--shall be done. Be at ease on this matter, and believe me that Ipromise you nothing which my heart would not strenuously insist upon myperforming. She shall be a sister to me. "

As he spoke, the landlord warmly pressed his hand, leaning forward fromhis saddle as he did so, but without a single accompanying word. Thedialogue was continued, at intervals, in a desultory form, and withoutsustaining, for any length of time, any single topic. Munro seemed heavywith gloomy thoughts; and the sky, now becoming lightened with theglories of the ascending moon, seemed to have no manner of influenceover his sullen temperament. Not so with the youth. He grew elastic andbuoyant as they proceeded; and his spirit rose, bright and gentle, as ifin accordance with the pure lights which now disposed themselves, likean atmosphere of silver, throughout the forest. The thin clouds, floating away from the parent-orb, and no longer obscuring her progress, became tributaries, and were clothed in their most dazzlingdraperies--clustering around her pathway, and contributing not a littleto the loveliness of that serene star from which they received so much. But the contemplations of the youth were not long permitted to run on inthe gladness of his newly-found liberty. On a sudden, the action of hiscompanion became animated: he drew up his steed for an instant, thenapplying the rowel, exclaimed in a deep but suppressed tone--

"We are pursued--ride, now--for your life, Mr. Colleton; it is threemiles to the river, and our horses will serve us well. They arechosen--ply the spur, and follow close after me. "

Let us return to the village. The situation of the jailer, Brooks, andof his companions, as the landlord left them, will be readily rememberedby the reader. It was not until the fugitives were fairly on the road, that the former, who had been pretty well stunned by the severe blowgiven him by Munro, recovered from his stupor; and he then labouredunder the difficulty of freeing himself from the bag about his head andshoulders, and his incarceration in the dwelling of the pedler. 

The blow had come nigh to sobering him, and his efforts, accordingly, were not without success. He looked round in astonishment upon thecondition of all things around him, ignorant of the individual who hadwrested from him his charge, besides subjecting his scull to the heavytest which it had been so little able to resist or he to repel; and, almost ready to believe, from the equally prostrate condition of thepedler and his brother, that, in reality, the assailant by which hehimself was overthrown was no other than the potent bottle-god of hisbrother's familiar worship. 

Such certainly would have been his impression but for the sack in whichhe had been enveloped, and the absence of his keys. The blow, which hehad not ceased to feel, might have been got by a drunken man in athousand ways, and was no argument to show the presence of an enemy; butthe sack, and the missing keys--they brought instant conviction, and arapidly increasing sobriety, which, as it duly increased his capacityfor reflection, was only so much more unpleasant than his drunkenness. 

But no time was to be lost, and the first movement--having essayed, though ineffectually, to kick his stupid host and snoring brother-in-lawinto similar consciousness with himself--was to rush headlong to thejail, where he soon realized all the apprehensions which assailed himwhen discovering the loss of his keys. The prisoner was gone, and theriotous search which he soon commenced about the village collected acrowd whose clamors, not less than his own, had occasioned the uproar, which concluded the conference between Miss Colleton and Guy Rivers, asnarrated in a previous chapter. 

The mob, approaching the residence of Colonel Colleton, as a place whichmight probably have been resorted to by the fugitive, brought the noisemore imperiously to the ears of Rivers, and compelled his departure. Hesallied forth, and in a little while ascertained the cause of thedisorder. By this time the dwelling of Colonel Colleton had undergonethe closest scrutiny. It was evident to the crowd, that, so far fromharboring the youth, they were not conscious of the escape; but of thisRivers was not so certain. He was satisfied in his own mind that thestern refusal of Edith to accept his overtures for the rescue, aroseonly from the belief that they could do without him. More than everirritated by this idea, the outlaw was bold enough, relying upon hisdisguise, to come forward, and while all was indecisive in themultitude, to lay plans for a pursuit. He did not scruple to instructthe jailer as to what course should be taken for the recovery of thefugitive; and by his cool, strong sense and confidence of expression, heinfused new hope into that much-bewildered person. Nobody knew who hewas, but as the village was full of strangers, who had never been seenthere before, this fact occasioned neither surprise nor inquiry. 

His advice was taken, and a couple of the Georgia guard, who were onstation in the village, now making their appearance, he suggested thecourse which they should pursue, and in few words gave the reasons whichinduced the choice. Familiar himself with all the various routes of thesurrounding country, he did not doubt that the fugitive, under whateverguidance, for as yet he knew nothing of Munro's agency in the business, would take the most direct course to the Indian nation. 

All this was done, on his part, with an excited spirit, the result ofthat malignant mood which now began to apprehend the chance of beingdeprived of all its victims. Had this not been the case--had he not beenpresent--the probability is, that, in the variety of counsel, therewould have been a far greater delay in the pursuit; but such must alwaysbe the influence of a strong and leading mind in a time of trial andpopular excitement. Such a mind concentrates and makes effective thepower which otherwise would be wasted in air. His superiority ofcharacter was immediately manifest--his suggestions were adopted withoutdissent; and, in a few moments the two troopers, accompanied by thejailer, were in pursuit upon the very road taken by the fugitives. 

Rivers, in the meanwhile, though excessively anxious about the result ofthe pursuit, was yet too sensible of his own risk to remain much longerin the village. Annoyed not a little by the apprehended loss of thatrevenge which he had described as so delicious in contemplation to hismind, he could not venture to linger where he was, at a time of suchgeneral excitement and activity. With a prudent caution, therefore, morethe result of an obvious necessity than of any accustomed habit of hislife, he withdrew himself as soon as possible from the crowd, at themoment when Pippin--who never lost a good opportunity--had mounted upona stump in order to address them. Breaking away just as the lawyer wasswelling with some old truism, and perhaps no truth, about the rights ofman and so forth, he mounted his horse, which he had concealed in theneighborhood, and rode off to the solitude and the shelter of his den. 

There was one thing that troubled his mind along with its othertroubles, and that was to find out who were the active parties in theescape of Colleton. In all this time, he had not for a moment suspectedMunro of connection with the affair--he had too much overrated his owninfluence with the landlord to permit of a thought in his minddetrimental to his conscious superiority. He had no clue, the guidanceof which might bring him to the trail; for the jailer, conscious of hisown irregularity, was cautious enough in suppressing everything like adetail of the particular circumstances attending the escape; contentinghimself, simply, with representing himself as having been knocked downby some persons unknown, and rifled of the keys while lying insensible. 

Rivers could only think of the pedler, and yet, such was his habitualcontempt for that person, that he dismissed the thought the moment itcame into his mind. Troubled thus in spirit, and filled with a thousandconflicting notions, he had almost reached the rocks, when he wassurprised to perceive, on a sudden, close at his elbow, the dwarfishfigure of our old friend Chub Williams. Without exhibiting the slightestshow of apprehension, the urchin resolutely continued his course alongwith the outlaw, unmoved by his presence, and with a degree of cavalierindifference which he had never ventured to manifest to that dangerouspersonage before. 

"Why, how now, Chub--do you not see me?" was the first inquiry ofRivers. 

"Can the owl see?--Chub is an owl--he can't see in the moonlight. "

"Well, but, Chub--why do you call yourself an owl? You don't want to seeme, boy, do you?"

"Chub wants to see nobody but his mother--there's Miss Lucy now--whydon't you let me see her? she talks jest like Chub's mother. "

"Why, you dog, didn't you help to steal her away? Have you forgotten howyou pulled away the stones? I should have you whipped for it, sir--doyou know that I can whip--don't the hickories grow here?"

"Yes, so Chub's mother said--but you can't whip Chub. Chub laughs--helaughs at all your whips. _That_ for your hickories. Ha! ha! ha! Chubdon't mind the hickories--you can't catch Chub, to whip him with yourhickories. Try now, if you can. Try--" and as he spoke he darted alongwith a rickety, waddling motion, half earnest in his flight, yetseemingly, partly with the desire to provoke pursuit. Somethingirritated with what was so unusual in the habit of the boy, and what heconceived only so much impertinence, the outlaw turned the horse's headdown the hill after him, but, as he soon perceived, without any chanceof overtaking him in so broken a region. The urchin all the while, as ifencouraged by the evident hopelessness of the chase on the part of thepursuer, screeched out volley after volley of defiance andlaughter--breaking out at intervals into speeches which he thought mostlike to annoy and irritate. 

"Ha, ha, ha! Chub don't mind your hickories--Chub's fingers are long--hewill pull away all the stones of your house, and then you will have tolive in the tree-top. "

But on a sudden his tune was changed, as Rivers, half-irritated by thepertinacity of the dwarf, pull out a pistol, and directed it at hishead. In a moment, the old influence was predominant, and in undisguisedterror he cried out--

"Now don't--don't, Mr. Guy--don't you shoot Chub--Chub won't laughagain--he won't pull away the stones--he won't. "

The outlaw now laughed himself at the terror which he had inspired, andbeckoning the boy near him, he proceeded, if possible, to persuade himinto a feeling of amity. There was a strange temper in him withreference to this outcast. His deformity--his desolate condition--hisdeficient intellect, inspired, in the breast of the fierce man, afeeling of sympathy, which he had not entertained for the whole world ofhumanity beside. 

Such is the contradictory character of the misled and the erring spirit. Warped to enjoy crime--to love the deformities of all moral things--toseek after and to surrender itself up to all manner of perversions, yetnow and then, in the long tissue, returning, for some moments, to theoriginal temper of that first nature not yet utterly departed; and fewand feeble though the fibres be which still bind the heart to herworship, still strong enough at times to remind it of the _true_, however it may be insufficient to restrain it in its wanderings afterthe _false_. 

But the language and effort of the outlaw, though singularly kind, failed to have any of the desired effect upon the dwarf. With anunhesitating refusal to enter the outlaw's dwelling-place in the rocks, he bounded away into a hollow of the hills, and in a moment was out ofsight of his companion. Fatigued with his recent exertions, and somewhatmore sullen than usual, Rivers entered the gloomy abode, into which itis not our present design to follow him. 

CHAPTER XXXIX. 

PURSUIT--DEATH. 

The fugitives, meanwhile, pursued their way with the speed of menconscious that life and death hung upon their progress. There needed noexhortations from his companion to Ralph Colleton. More than life, withhim, depended upon his speed. The shame of such a death as that to whichhe had been destined was for ever before his eyes, and with a heartnerved to its utmost by a reference to the awful alternative of flight, he grew reckless in the audacity with which he drove his horse forwardin defiance of all obstacle and over every impediment. Nor were thepresent apprehensions of Munro much less than those of his companion. Tobe overtaken, as the participant of the flight of one whose life wasforfeit, would necessarily invite such an examination of himself as mustresult in the development of his true character, and such a discoverymust only terminate in his conviction and sentence to the same doom. Hispreviously-uttered presentiment grew more than ever strong with thegrowing consciousness of his danger; and with an animation, the fruit ofan anxiety little short of absolute fear, he stimulated the progress ofColleton, while himself driving the rowel ruthlessly into the smokingsides of the animal he bestrode. 

"On, sir--on, Mr. Colleton--this is no moment for graceful attitude. Bend forward--free rein--rashing spur. We ride for life--for life. Theymust not take us alive--remember _that_. Let them shoot--strike, if theyplease--but they must put no hands on us as living men. If we must die, why--any death but a dog's. Are you prepared for such a finish to yourride?"

"I am--but I trust it has not come to that. How much have we yet to theriver?"

"Two miles at the least, and a tough road. They gain upon us--do you nothear them--we are slow--very slow. These horses--on, Syphax, dulldevil--on--on!"

And at every incoherent and unconnected syllable, the landlord struckhis spurs into his animal, and incited the youth to do the same. 

"There is an old mill upon the branch to our left, where for a few hourswe might lie in secret, but daylight would find us out. Shall we try abirth there, or push on for the river?" inquired Munro. 

"Push on, by all means--let us stop nowhere--we shall be safe if we makethe nation, " was the reply. 

"Ay, safe enough but that's the rub. If we could stretch a mile or twobetween us, so as to cross before they heave in sight, I could take youto a place where the whole United States would never find us out--butthey gain on us--I hear them every moment more and more near. The soundsare very clear to-night--a sign of rain, perhaps to-morrow. On, sir!Push! The pursuers must hear us, as we hear them. "

"But I hear them not--I hear no sounds but our own--" replied the youth. 

"Ah, that's because you have not the ears of an outlaw. There's anecessity for using our ears, one of the first that we acquire, and Ican hear sounds farther, I believe, than any man I ever met, unless itbe Guy Rivers. He has the ears of the devil, when his blood's up. Thenhe hears further than I can, though I'm not much behind him even then. Hark! they are now winding the hill not more than half a mile off, andwe hear nothing of them now until they get round--the hill throws theecho to the rear, as it is more abrupt on that side than on this. Atthis time, if they heard us before, they can not hear us. We could nowmake the old mill with some hope of their losing our track, as we strikeinto a blind path to do so. What say you, Master Colleton--shall we turnaside or go forward?"

"Forward, I say. If we are to suffer, I would suffer on the high road, in full motion, and not be caught in a crevice like a lurking thief. Better be shot down--far better--I think with you--than risk recapture. "

"Well, it's the right spirit you have, and we may beat them yet! Wecease again to hear them. They are driving through the close grove wherethe trees hang so much over. God--it is but a few moments since we wentthrough it ourselves--they gain on us--but the river is not far--speedon--bend forward, and use the spur--a few minutes more close pushing, and the river is in sight. Kill the beasts--no matter--but make theriver. "

"How do we cross?" inquired the youth, hurriedly, though with aconfidence something increased by the manner of his companion. 

"Drive in--drive in--there are two fords, each within twenty yards ofthe other, and the river is not high. You take the path and ford to theright, as you come in sight of the water, and I'll keep the left. Yourhorse swims well--so don't mind the risk; and if there's any difficulty, leave him, and take to the water yourself. The side I give you is theeasiest; though it don't matter which side I take. I've gone throughworse chances than this, and, if we hold on for a few moments, we aresafe. The next turn, and we are on the banks. "

"The river--the river, " exclaimed the youth, involuntarily, as the broadand quiet stream wound before his eyes, glittering like a polishedmirror in the moonlight. 

"Ay, there it is--now to the right--to the right! Look not behind you. Let them shoot--let them shoot! but lose not an instant to look. Plungeforward and drive in. They are close upon us, and the flat is on theother side. They can't pursue, unless they do as we, and they have nosuch reason for so desperate a course. It is swimming and full of snags!They will stop--they will not follow. In--in--not a moment is to belost--" and speaking, as they pursued their several ways, he to theleft, and Ralph Colleton to the right ford, the obedient steeds plungedforward under the application of the rowel, and were fairly in the bosomof the stream, as the pursuing party rode headlong up the bank. 

Struggling onward, in the very centre of the stream, with the steed, which, to do him all manner of justice, swam nobly, Ralph Colleton couldnot resist the temptation to look round upon his pursuers. Writhing hisbody in the saddle, therefore, a single glance was sufficient and, inthe full glare of the moonlight unimpeded by any interposing foliage, the prospect before his eyes was imposing and terrible enough. Thepursuers were four in number--the jailer, two of the Georgia guard, andanother person unknown to him. 

As Munro had predicted, they did not venture to plunge in as thefugitives had done--they had no such fearful motive for the risk; andthe few moments which they consumed in deliberation as to what theyshould do, contributed not a little to the successful experiment of theswimmers. 

But the youth at length caught a fearful signal of preparation; his earnoted the sharp click of the lock, as the rifle was referred to in thefinal resort; and his ready sense conceived but of one, and the onlymode of evading the danger so immediately at hand. Too conspicuous inhis present situation to hope for escape, short of a miracle, so long ashe remained upon the back of the swimming horse, he relaxed his hold, carefully drew his feet from the stirrups, resigned his seat, and only asecond before the discharge of the rifle, was deeply buried in the bosomof the Chestatee. 

The steed received the bullet in his head, plunged forward madly, to theno small danger of Ralph, who had now got a little before him, but in afew moments lay supine upon the stream, and was borne down by itscurrent. The youth, practised in such exercises, pressed forward underthe surface for a sufficient time to enable him to avoid the presentglance of the enemy, and at length, in safety, rounding a jutting pointof the shore, which effectually concealed him from their eyes, he gainedthe dry land, at the very moment in which Munro, with more success, wasclambering, still mounted, up the steep sides of a neighboring andslippery bank. 

Familiar with such scenes, the landlord had duly estimated the doubtfulchances of his life in swimming the river directly in sight of thepursuers. He had, therefore, taken the precaution to obliqueconsiderably to the left from the direct course, and did not, inconsequence, appear in sight, owing to the sinuous windings of thestream, until he had actually gained the shore. 

The youth beheld him at this moment, and shouted aloud his own situationand safety. In a voice indicative of restored confidence in himself, noless than in his fate, the landlord, by a similar shout, recognised him, and was bending forward to the spot where he stood, when the sharp andjoint report of three rifles from the opposite banks, attested thediscovery of his person; and, in the same instant, the rider totteredforward in his saddle, his grasp was relaxed upon the rein, and, withouta word, he toppled from his seat, and was borne for a few paces by hishorse, dragged forward by one of his feet, which had not been releasedfrom the stirrup. 

He fell, at length, and the youth came up with him. He heard the groansof the wounded man, and, though exposing himself to the same chance, hecould not determine upon flight. He might possibly have saved himself bytaking the now freed animal which the, landlord had ridden, and at onceburying himself in the nation. But the noble weakness of pity determinedhim otherwise; and, without scruple or fear, he resolutely advanced tothe spot whore Munro lay, though full in the sight of the pursuers, andprepared to render him what assistance he could. One of the troopers, inthe meantime, had swum the river; and, freeing the flat from its chains, had directed it across the stream for the passage of his companions. Itwas not long before they had surrounded the fugitives, and RalphColleton was again a prisoner, and once more made conscious of thedreadful doom from which he had, at one moment, almost conceived himselfto have escaped. 

Munro had been shockingly wounded. One ball had pierced his thigh, inflicting a severe, though probably not a fatal wound. Another, andthis had been enough, had penetrated directly behind the eyes, keepingits course so truly across, as to tear and turn the bloody orbscompletely out upon the cheek beneath. The first words of the dying manwere--

"Is the moon gone down--lights--bring lights!"

"No, Munro; the moon is still shining without a cloud, and as brightlyas if it were day" was the reply of Ralph. 

"Who speaks--speak again, that I may know how to believe him. "

"It is I, Munro--I, Ralph Colleton. "

"Then it is true--and I am a dead man. It is all over, and he came notto me for nothing. Yet, can I have no lights--no lights?--Ah!" and thehalf-reluctant reason grew more terribly conscious of his situation, ashe thrust his fingers into the bleeding sockets from which the fine anddelicate conductor of light had been so suddenly driven. He howled aloudfor several moments in his agony--in the first agony which came withthat consciousness--but, recovering, at length, he spoke with somethingof calm and coherence. 

"Well, Mr. Colleton, what I said was true. I knew it would be so. I hadwarning enough to prepare, and I did try, but it's come over soon andnothing is done. I have my wages, and the text spoke nothing but thetruth. I can not stand this pain long--it is too much--and--"

The pause in his speech, from extreme agony, was filled up by a shriekthat rung fearfully amid the silence of such a scene, but it lasted notlong. The mind of the landlord was not enfeebled by his weakness, evenat such a moment. He recovered and proceeded:--

"Yes, Mr. Colleton, I am a dead man. I have my wages--but my death isyour life! Let me tell the story--and save you, and save Lucy--andthus--(oh, could I believe it for an instant)--save myself! But, nomatter--we must talk of other things. Is that Brooks--is that Brooksbeside me?"

"No, it is I--Colleton. "

"I know--I know, " impatiently--"who else?"

"Mr. Brooks, the jailer, is here--Ensign Martin and Brincle, of theGeorgia guard, " was the reply of the jailer. 

"Enough, then, for your safety, Mr. Colleton. They can prove it all, andthen remember Lucy--poor Lucy! You will be in time--save her from GuyRivers--Guy Rivers--the wretch--not Guy Rivers--no--there's asecret--there's a secret for you, my men, shall bring you a handsomereward. Stoop--stoop, you three--where are you?--stoop, and hear what Ihave to say! It is my dying word!-and I swear it by all things, allpowers, all terrors, that can make an oath solemn with a wretch whoselife is a long crime! Stoop--hear me--heed all--lose not a word--not aword--not a word! Where are you?"

"We are here, beside you--we hear all that you say. Go on!"

"Guy Rivers is not his name--he is not Guy Rivers--hear now--Guy Riversis the outlaw for whom the governor's proclamation gives a highreward--a thousand dollars--the man who murdered Judge Jessup. EdwardCreighton, of Gwinnett courthouse--he is the murderer of Jessup--he isthe murderer of Forrester, for whose death the life of Mr. Colleton hereis forfeit! I saw him kill them both!--I saw more than that, but that isenough to save the innocent man and punish the guilty! Take down allthat I have said. I, too, am guilty! would make amends, but it is almosttoo late--the night is very dark, and the earth swings about like acradle. Ah!--have you taken down on paper what I said? I will tell younothing more till all is written--write it down--on-paper--everyword--write that before I say any more!"

They complied with his requisition. One of the troopers, on a sheet ofpaper furnished by the jailer, and placed upon the saddle of his horse, standing by in the pale light of the moon, recorded word after word, with scrupulous exactness, of the dying man's confession. He proceededduly to the narration of every particular of all past occurrences, as weourselves have already detailed them to the reader, together with manymore, unnecessary to our narrative, of which we had heretofore nocognizance. When this was done, the landlord required it to be read, commenting, during its perusal, and dwelling, with more circumstantialminuteness, upon many of its parts. 

"That will do--that will do! Now swear me, Brooks!--you are in thecommission--lift my hand and swear me, so that nothing be wanting to thetruth! What if there is no bible?" he exclaimed, suddenly, as some oneof the individuals present suggested a difficulty on this subject. 

"What!--because there is no bible, shall there be no truth? Iswear--though I have had no communion with God--I swear to the truth--byhim! Write down my oath--he is present--they say he is always present! Ibelieve it now--I only wish I had always believed it! I swear by him--hewill not falsify the truth!--write down my oath, while I lift my hand tohim! Would it were a prayer--but I can not pray--I am more used to oathsthan prayers, and I can not pray! Is it written--is it written? Look, Mr. Colleton, look--you know the law. If you are satisfied, I am. Willit do?"

Colleton replied quickly in the affirmative, and the dying man wenton:--

"Remember Lucy--the poor Lucy! You will take care of her. Say no harshwords in her ears--but, why should I ask this of you, whom--Ah!--it goesround--round--round--swimming--swimming. Very dark--very dark night, andthe trees dance--Lucy--"

The voice sunk into a faint whisper whose sounds were unsyllabled--anoccasional murmur escaped them once after, in which the name of hisniece was again heard; exhibiting, at the last, the affection, howeverlatent, which he entertained in reality for the orphan trust of hisbrother. In a few moments, and the form stiffened before them in all therigid sullenness of death. 

CHAPTER XL. 

WOLF'S NECK--CAPTURE. 

The cupidity of his captors had been considerably stimulated by thedying words of Munro. They were all of them familiar with the atrociousmurder which, putting a price upon his head, had driven Creighton, thena distinguished member of the bar in one of the more civilized portionsof the state, from the pale and consideration of society; and theiranxieties were now entirely addressed to the new object which therecital they had just heard had suggested to them. They had gatheredfrom the narrative of the dying man some idea of the place in whichthey would most probably find the outlaw; and, though without a guideto the spot, and altogether ignorant of its localities, theydetermined--without reference to others, who might only subtract fromtheir own share of the promised reward, without contributing much, ifany, aid, which they might not easily dispense with--at once to attempthis capture. This was the joint understanding of the whole party, RalphColleton excepted. 

In substance, the youth was now free. The evidence furnished by Munroonly needed the recognition of the proper authorities to make him so;yet, until this had been effected, he remained in a sort of understoodrestraint, but without any actual limitations. Pledging himself thatthey should suffer nothing from the indulgence given him, he mounted thehorse of Munro, whose body was cared for, and took his course back tothe village; while, following the directions given them, the guard andjailer pursued their way to the Wolf's Neck in their search after GuyRivers. 

The outlaw had been deserted by nearly all his followers. The note ofpreparation and pursuit, sounded by the state authorities, had inspiredthe depredators with a degree of terror, which the near approximation ofthe guard, in strong numbers, to their most secluded places, had not alittle tended to increase; and accordingly, at the period of which wenow speak, the outlaw, deserted by all but one or two of the most daringof his followers--who were, however, careful enough of themselves tokeep in no one place long, and cautiously to avoid their accustomedhaunts--remained in his rock, in a state of gloomy despondency, notusually his characteristic. Had he been less stubborn, less ready todefy all chances and all persons, it is not improbable that Rivers wouldhave taken counsel by their flight, and removed himself, for a time atleast, from the scene of danger. But his native obstinacy, and thatmadness of heart which, as we are told, seizes first upon him whom Godseeks to destroy, determined him, against the judgment of others, and inpart against his own, to remain where he was; probably in the fallacioushope that the storm would pass over, as on so many previous occasions ithad already done, and leave him again free to his old practices in thesame region. A feeling of pride, which made him unwilling to take asuggestion of fear and flight from the course of others, had some sharein this decision; and, if we add the vague hungering of his heart towardthe lovely Edith, and possibly the influence of other pledges, and theimposing consideration of other duties, we shall not be greatly at aloss in understanding the injudicious indifference to the threateningdangers which appears to have distinguished the conduct of the otherwisepolitic and circumspect ruffian. 

That night, after his return from the village, and the brief dialoguewith Chub Williams, as we have already narrated it he retired to thedeepest cell of his den, and, throwing himself into a seat, covering hisface with his hands, he gave himself up to a meditation as true in itsphilosophy as it was humiliating throughout in its application tohimself. Dillon, his lieutenant--if such a title may be permitted insuch a place, and for such a person--came to him shortly after hisarrival, and in brief terms, with a blunt readiness--which, comingdirectly to the point, did not offend the person to whom it wasaddressed--demanded to know what he meant to do with himself. 

"We can't stay here any longer, " said he; "the troops are gathering allround us. The country's alive with them, and in a few days we shouldn'tbe able to stir from the hollow of a tree without popping into the gripeof some of our hunters. In the Wolf's Neck they will surely seek us;for, though a very fine place for us while the country's thin, yet evenits old owners, the wolves, would fly from it when the horn of thehunter rings through the wood. It won't be very long before they pierceto the very 'nation, ' and then we should have but small chance of a longgrace. Jack Ketch would make mighty small work of our necks, in hishurry to go to dinner. "

"And what of all this--what is all this to me?" was the strange andrather phlegmatic response of the outlaw, who did not seem to take inthe full meaning of his officer's speech, and whose mind, indeed, was atthat moment wandering to far other considerations. Dillon seemed not alittle surprised by this reply, and looked inquiringly into the face ofthe speaker, doubting for a moment his accustomed sanity. The stern lookwhich his glance encountered directed its expression elsewhere, and, after a moment's pause, he replied--

"Why, captain, you can't have thought of what I've been saying, or youwouldn't speak as you do. I think it's a great deal to both you and me, what I've been telling you; and the sooner you come to think so too, thebetter. It's only yesterday afternoon that I narrowly missed being seenat the forks by two of the guard, well mounted, and with rifles. I hadbut the crook of the fork in my favor, and the hollow of the creek atthe old ford where it's been washed away. They're all round us, and Idon't think we're safe here another day. Indeed, I only come to see ifyou wouldn't be off with me, at once, into the 'nation. '"

"You are considerate, but must go alone. I have no apprehensions where Iam, and shall not stir for the present. For yourself, you must determineas you think proper. I have no further hold on your service. I releaseyou from the oath. Make the best of your way into the 'nation'--ay, goyet farther; and, hear me, Dillon, go where you are unknown--go whereyou can enter society; seek for the fireside, where you can have thosewho, in the dark hour, will have no wish to desert you. I have no claimnow upon you, and the sooner you 'take the range' the better. "

"And why not go along with me, captain? I hate to go alone, and hate toleave you where you are. I shan't think you out of danger while you stayhere, and don't see any reason for you to do so. "

"Perhaps not, Dillon; but there is reason, or I should not stay. We maynot go together, even if I were to fly--our paths lie asunder. They maynever more be one. Go you, therefore, and heed me not; and think of meno more. Make yourself a home in the Mississippi, or on the Red river, and get yourself a fireside and family of your own. These are the thingsthat will keep your heart warm within you, cheering you in hours thatare dark, like this. "

"And why, captain, " replied the lieutenant, much affected--"why shouldyou not take the course which you advise for me? Why not, in theArkansas, make yourself a home, and with a wife--"

"Silence, sir!--not a word of that! Why come you to chafe me here in myden? Am I to be haunted for ever with such as you, and with words likethese?" and the brow of the outlaw blackened as he spoke, and his whiteteeth knit together, fiercely gnashing for an instant, while the foamworked its way through the occasional aperture between them. Theebullition of passion, however, lasted not long, and the outlaw himself, a moment after, seemed conscious of its injustice. 

"I do you wrong, Dillon; but on this subject I will have no one speak. Ican not be the man you would have me; I have been schooled otherwise. Mymother has taught me a different lesson; her teachings have doomed me, and these enjoyments are now all beyond my hope. "

"Your mother?" was the response of Dillon, in unaffected astonishment. 

"Ay, man--my mother! Is there anything wonderful in that? She taught methe love of evil with her milk--she sang it in lullabies over mycradle--she gave it me in the playthings of my boyhood; her schoolingshave made me the morbid, the fierce criminal, the wilful, vexing spirit, from whose association all the gentler virtues must always desire tofly. If, in the doom which may finish my life of doom, I have any oneperson to accuse of all, that person is--my mother!"

"Is this possible? Can it be true? It is strange--very strange!"

"It is not strange; we see it every day--in almost every family. She, did not _tell_ me to lie, or to swindle, or to stab--no! oh, no! shewould have told me that all these things were bad; but she _taught_ meto perform them all. She roused my passions, and not my _principles_, into activity. She provoked the one, and suppressed the other. Did myfather reprove my improprieties, she petted me, and denounced him. Shecrossed his better purposes, and defeated all his designs, until, atlast, she made my passions too strong for my government, not less thanhers; and left me, knowing the true, yet the victim of the false. Thusit was that, while my intellect, in its calmer hours, taught me thatvirtue is the only source of true felicity, my ungovernable passions setthe otherwise sovereign reason at defiance, and trampled it under foot. Yes, in that last hour of eternal retribution, if called upon todenounce or to accuse, I can point but to one as the author of all--theweakly-fond, misjudging, misguiding woman who gave me birth!

"Within the last hour I have been thinking over all these things. I havebeen thinking how I had been cursed in childhood by one who surely lovedme beyond all other things besides. I can remember how sedulously sheencouraged and prompted my infant passions, uncontrolled by herauthority and reason, and since utterly unrestrainable by my own. Howshe stimulated me to artifices, and set me the example herself, byfrequently deceiving my father, and teaching me to disobey and deceivehim! She told me not to lie; and she lied all day to him, on my account, and to screen me from his anger. She taught me the catechism, to say onSunday, while during the week she schooled me in almost every possibleform of ingenuity to violate all its precepts. She bribed me to do myduty, and hence my duty could only be done under the stimulating promiseof a reward; and, without the reward, I went counter to the duty. Shetaught me that God was superior to all, and that he required obedienceto certain laws; yet, as she hourly violated those laws herself in mybehalf, I was taught to regard myself as far superior to him! Had shenot done all this, I had not been here and thus: I had been what now Idare not think on. It is all her work. The greatest enemy my life hasever known has been my mother!"

"This is a horrible thought, captain; yet I can not but think it true. "

"It is true! I have analyzed my own history, and the causes of mycharacter and fortunes now, and I charge it all upon her. From oneinfluence I have traced another, and another, until I have the sweepingamount of twenty years of crime and sorrow, and a life of hate, andprobably a death of ignominy--all owing to the first ten years of myinfant education, where the only teacher that I knew was the woman whogave me birth!--But this concerns not you. In my calm mood, Dillon, youhave the fruit of my reason: to abide its dictate, I should fly withyou; but I suffer from my mother's teachings even in this. My passions, my pride, my fierce hope--the creature of a maddening passion--will notlet me fly; and I stay, though I stay alone, with a throat bare for theknife of the butcher, or the halter of the hangman. I will not fly!"

"And I will stay with you. I can dare something, too, captain; and youshall not say, when the worst comes to the worst, that Tom Dillon wasthe man to back out. I will not go either, and, whatever is the chance, you shall not be alone. "

Rivers, for a moment, seemed touched by the devotion, of his follower, and was silent for a brief interval; but suddenly the expression of hiseye was changed, and he spoke briefly and sternly:--

"You shall not stay with me, sir! What! am I so low as this, that I maynot be permitted to be alone when I will? Will my subordinates fly in myface, and presume to disobey my commands? Go, Dillon--have I not saidthat you _must_ fly--that I no longer need your services? Why linger, then, where you are no longer needed? I have that to perform whichrequires me to be alone, and I have no further time to spare you. Go--away!"

"Do you really speak in earnest, captain?" inquired the lieutenant, doubtingly, and with a look of much concern. 

"Am I so fond of trifling, that my officer asks me such a question?" wasthe stern response. 

"Then I am your officer still--you will go with me, or I shall remain. "

"Neither, Dillon. The time is past for such an arrangement. You aredischarged from my service, and from your oath. The club has no furtherexistence. Go--be a happy, a better man, in another part of the world. You have some of the weaknesses of your better nature still in you. Youhad no mother to change them into scorn, and strife, and bitterness. Go--you may be a better man, and have something, therefore, for which tolive. I have not--my heart can know no change. It is no longer under theguidance of reason. It is quite ungovernable now. There was a timewhen--but why prate of this?--it is too late to think of, and onlymaddens me the more. Besides, it makes not anything with you, and woulddetain you without a purpose. Linger no longer, Dillon--speed to thewest, and, at some future day, perhaps you shall see me when you leastexpect, and perhaps least desire it. "

The manner of the outlaw was firm and commanding, and Dillon no longerhad any reason to doubt his desires, and no motive to disobey hiswishes. The parting was brief, though the subordinate was trulyaffected. He would have lingered still, but Rivers waved him off with afarewell, whose emphasis was effectual, and, in a few moments, thelatter sat once more alone. 

His mood was that of one disappointed in all things, and, consequently, displeased and discontented with all things--querulously so. In additionto this temper, which was common to him, his spirit, at this time, labored under a heavy feeling of despondency, and its gloomy sullennesswas perhaps something lighter to himself while Dillon remained with him. We have seen the manner in which he had hurried that personage off. Hehad scarcely been gone, however, when the inconsistent and variabletemper of the outlaw found utterance in the following soliloquy:--

"Ay, thus it is--they all desert me; and this is human feeling. They allfly the darkness, and this is human courage. They love themselves only, or you only while you need no love; and this is human sympathy. I needall of these, yet I get none; and when I most need, and most desire, andmost seek to obtain, I am the least provided. These are the fruits whichI have sown, however; should I shrink to gather them?

"Yet, there is one--but one of all--whom no reproach of mine could driveaway, or make indifferent to my fate. But I will see her no more. Strange madness! The creature, who, of all the world, most loves me, andis most deserving of my love, I banish from my soul as from my sight. And this is another fruit of my education--another curse that came witha mother--this wilful love of the perilous and the passionate--thisscorn of the gentle and the soft--this fondness for the fiercecontradiction--this indifference to the thing easily won--this thirstafter the forbidden. Poor Ellen--so gentle, so resigned, and so fond ofher destroyer; but I will not see her again. I must not; she must notstand in the way of my anxiety to conquer that pride which had venturedto hate or to despise me. I shall see Munro, and he shall lose no timein this matter. Yet, what can he be after--he should have been herebefore this; it now wants but little to the morning, and--ah! I have notslept. Shall I ever sleep again!"

Thus, striding to and fro in his apartment, the outlaw soliloquized atintervals. Throwing himself at length upon a rude couch that stood inthe corner, he had disposed himself as it were for slumber, when thenoise, as of a falling rock, attracted his attention, and withoutpausing, he cautiously took his way to the entrance, with a view toascertain the cause. He was not easily surprised, and the knowledge ofsurrounding danger made him doubly observant, and more than everwatchful. 

Let us now return to the party which had pursued the fugitives, andwhich, after the death of the landlord, had, as we have alreadynarrated, adopting the design suggested by his dying words, immediatelyset forth in search of the notorious outlaw, eager for the reward putupon his head. Having already some general idea of the whereabouts ofthe fugitive, and the directions given by Munro having been of the mostspecific character, they found little difficulty, after a moderate rideof some four or five miles, in striking upon the path directly leadingto the Wolf's Neck. 

At this time, fortunately for their object, they were encounteredsuddenly by--our old acquaintance, Chub Williams, whom, but littlebefore, we have seen separating from the individual in whose pursuitthey were now engaged. The deformed quietly rode along with the party, but without seeming to recognise their existence--singing all the whilea strange woodland melody of the time and region--probably theproduction of some village wit:--

 "Her frock it was a _yaller_, And she was _mighty sprigh_ And she bounced at many a _feller_ Who came _a-fighting shy_. 

 "Her eye was like a _sarpent's eye_. Her cheek was like a flower, But her tongue was like a pedler's clock, 'Twas a-striking every hour. 

 "And wasn't she the gal for me, And wasn't she, I pray, sir, And I'll be _drot_, if you say not, We'll fight this very day, sir. We'll fight this very day, sir. "

Having delivered himself of this choice morsel of song, the half-wittedfellow conceitedly challenged the attention of the group whom he had nothitherto been disposed to see. 

"'Spose you reckon I don't see you, riding 'longside of me, and sayingnothing, but listening to my song. I'm singing for my own self, and yououghtn't to listen--I didn't ax you, and I'd like to know what you'redoing so nigh Chub's house. "

"Why, where's your house, Chub?" asked one of the party. 

"You ain't looking for it, is you? 'cause you can't think to find ita-looking down. I lives in the tree-top when weather's good liketo-night, and when it ain't, I go into the hollow. I've a better housethan Guy Rivers--he don't take the tree at all, no how. "

"And where is his house, Chub?" was the common inquiry of all the party. The dwarf looked at them for a few moments without speech, then with awhisper and a gesture significant of caution, replied--

"If you're looking for Guy, 'tain't so easy to find him if he don't wantto be found, and you must speak softly if you hunt him, whether or no. He's a dark man, that Guy Rivers--mother always said so--and he lives along way under the ground. "

"And can't you show us where, Chub? We will give you money for yourservice. "

"Hain't you got 'tatoes? Chub's hungry--hain't eat nothing to-night. GuyRivers has plenty to eat, but he cursed Chub's mother. "

"Well, show us where he is, and we'll give you plenty to eat. Plenty ofpotatoes and corn, " was the promise of the party. 

"And build up Chub's house that the fire burnt? Chub lives in the treenow. Guy Rivers' man burnt Chub's house, 'cause he said Chub was sassy. "

"Yes, my boy, we'll build up your house, and give you a plenty to goupon for a year. You shall have potatoes enough for your lifetime, ifyou will show us how to come upon Guy Rivers to-night. He _is_ a badfellow, as you say; and we won't let him trouble you any more, if you'llonly show us where he is to be found. "

"Well--I reckon I can, " was the response, uttered in a confidentialwhisper, and much more readily given than was the wont of the speaker. "Chub and Guy talked together to-night, and Guy wanted Chub to go withhim into his house in Wolf's Neck. But Chub don't love the wolf, and hedon't love the Wolf's Neck, now that Miss Lucy's gone away from it. It'sa mighty dark place, the Wolf's Neck, and Chub's afear'd in the darkplaces, where the moon and stars won't shine down. "

"But you needn't be afraid now, little Chub. You're a good littlefellow, and we'll keep with you and follow close, and there shall be nodanger to you. We'll fight Guy Rivers for you, so that he can't hurt youany more. "

"You'll fight Guy! You! Guy kin fight to kill!"

"Yes, but we'll kill _him;_ only you show us where he is, so that we cancatch him and tie him, and he'll never trouble Chub any more. "

"What! you'll tie Guy? How I'd like to see anybody tie Guy! You kain'ttie Guy. He'd break through the ropes, he would, if he on'y stretchedout his arms. "

"You'll see! only show us how to find him, and we'll tie him, and we'llbuild you a new house, and you shall have more potatoes and corn thanyou can shake a stick at, and we'll give you a great jug of whiskey intothe bargain. "

"Now will you! And a jug of whiskey too, and build a new house forChub's mother--and the corn, and the 'tatoes. "

"All! you shall have all we promise. "

"Come! come! saftly! put your feet down saftly, for Guy's got greatwhite owls that watch for him, and they hoot from the old tree when thehorses are coming. Saftly! saftly!"

There is an idiocy that does not lack the vulgar faculty of mereshrewdness--that can calculate selfishly, and plan coolly--in short, canshow itself cunning, whenever it has a motive. Find the motive for theinsane and the idiotic, always, if you would see them exercise the fullextent of their little remaining wits. 

Chub Williams had a sagacity of this sort. His selfishness was appealedto, and all his faculties were on the alert. He gave directions for theprogress of the party--after his own manner, it is true--but withsufficient promptness and intelligence to satisfy them that they mightrely upon him. Having reached a certain lonely spot among the hills, contiguous to the crag, or series of crags, called the Wolf's Neck, Chubmade the party all dismount, and hide their horses in a thicket intowhich they found it no easy matter to penetrate. This done, he led themout again, cautiously moving along under cover, but near the margin ofthe road. He stept as lightly himself as a squirrel, taking care, beforethrowing his weight upon his foot, to feel that there was no rottingbranch or bough beneath, the breaking of which might occasion noise. 

"Saftly! saftly!" he would say in a whisper, turning back to the party, when he found them treading hurriedly and heavily upon the brush. Sometimes, again, he ran ahead of all of them, and for a few momentswould be lost to sight; but he usually returned, as quickly and quietlyas he went, and would either lead them forward on the same route withconfidence, or alter it according to his discoveries. He was literallyfeeling his way; the instincts and experience of the practised scoutfinding no sort of obstacle in the deficiency of his reasoning powers. 

His processes did not argue any doubts of his course; only a choice ofdirection--such as would promise more ease and equal security. Some ofhis changes of movement, he tried to explain, in his own fashion, whenhe came back to guide them on other paths. 

"Saftly back--saftly now, this way. Guy's in his dark house in the rock, but there's a many rooms, and 't mout be, we're a walking jest now, overhis head. Then he mout hear, you see, and Guy's got ears like the greatowl. He kin hear mighty far in the night, and see too; and you mustn'tstep into his holes. There's heap of holes in Guy's dark house. Saftly, now--and here away. "

Briefly, the rocky avenues were numerous in the Wolf's Neck, and some ofthem ran near the surface. There were sinks upon the surface also, covered with brush and clay, into which the unthinking wayfarer mightstumble, perhaps into the very cavern where the outlaw at that momenthoused himself. The group around the idiot did not fail to comprehendthe reasons for all his caution. They confided to his skill implicitly;having, of themselves, but small knowledge of the wild precincts intowhich they desired to penetrate. 

Having, at length, brought them to points and places, which affordedthem the command of the avenues to the rock, the next object of theirguide was to ascertain where the outlaw was at that moment secreted. Itwas highly important to know _where_ to enter--where to look--and notwaste time in fruitless search of places in which a single man mighthave a dozen blind seekers at his mercy. The cunning of the idiotconceived this necessity himself. 

His policy made each of the party hide himself out of sight, though in aposition whence each might see. 

All arranged as he desired, the urchin armed himself with a rock, notquite as large as his own head, but making a most respectable approachto it. This, with the aid of coat and kerchief he secured upon his back, between his shoulders; and thus laden, he yet, with the agility of theopossum, her young ones in her pouch, climbed up a tree which stood alittle above that inner chamber which Guy Rivers had appropriated forhimself, and where, on more occasions than one, our idiot had peeped inupon him. Perched in his tree securely, and shrouded from sight amongits boughs, the urchin disengaged the rock from his shoulders, took itin both his hands, and carefully selecting its route, he pitched it, with all his might, out from the tree, and in such a direction, that, after it had fairly struck the earth, it continued a rolling course downthe declivity of the rocks, making a heavy clatter all the way it went. 

The _ruse_ answered its purpose. The keen senses of the outlaw caughtthe sound. His vigilance, now doubly keen, awakened to its watch. Wehave seen, in previous pages, the effect that the rolling stone had uponthe musing and vexed spirit of Guy Rivers, after the departure ofDillon. He came forth, as we have seen, to look about for the cause ofalarm; and, as if satisfied that the disturbance was purely accidental, had retired once more to the recesses of his den. 

Here, throwing himself upon his couch, he seemed disposed to sleep. Sleep, indeed! He himself denied that he ever slept. His followers wereall agreed that when he did sleep, it was only with half his facultiesshut up. One eye, they contended, was always open!

Chub Williams, and one of the hunters had seen the figure of the outlawas he emerged from the cavern. The former instantly identified him. Theother was too remote to distinguish anything but a slight human outline, which he could only determine to be such, as he beheld its movements. Hewas too far to assault, the light was too imperfect to suffer him toshoot with any reasonable certainty of success, and the half of thereward sought by his pursuers, depended upon the outlaw being takenalive!

But, there was no disappointment among the hunters. Allowing the outlawsufficient time to return to his retreats, Chub Williams slipped downhis tree--the rest of the party slowly emerged from their several placesof watch, and drew together for consultation. 

In this matter, the idiot could give them little help. He could, anddid, describe, in some particulars, such of the interior as he had beenenabled to see on former occasions, but beyond this he could do nothing;and he was resolute not to hazard himself entering the dominion of apersonage, so fearful as Guy Rivers, in such companionship as wouldsurely compel the wolf to turn at bay. Alone, his confidence in his ownstealth and secresy, would encourage him to penetrate; but, _now!_--heonly grinned at the suggestion of the hunters saying shrewdly: "No!thank you! I'll stay out here and keep Chub's company. "

Accordingly, he remained without, closely gathered up into a lump, behind a tree, while the more determined Georgians penetrated withcautious pace into the dark avenue, known in the earlier days of thesettlement as a retreat for the wolves when they infested that portionof the country, and hence distinguished by the appellation of the Wolf'sNeck. 

For some time they groped onward in great uncertainty as to theircourse; but a crevice in the wall, at one point, gave them a glimmer ofthe moonlight, which, falling obliquely upon the sides of the cavern, enabled them to discern the mouth of another gorge diverging from thatin which they were. They entered, and followed this new route, untiltheir farther progress was arrested by a solid wall which seemed toclose them in, hollowly caved from all quarters, except the one narrowpoint from which they had entered it. 

Here, then, they were at a stand; but, according to Chub's directions, there must be a mode of ingress to still another chamber from this; andthey prepared to seek it in the only possible way; namely, by feelingalong the wall for the opening which their eye had failed to detect. They had to do this on hands and knees, so low was the rock along theedges of the cavern. 

The search was finally successful. One of the party found the wall togive beneath his hands. There was an aperture, a mere passage-way forwolf or bear, lying low in the wall, and only closed by a heavy curtainof woollen. 

This was an important discovery. The opening led directly into thechamber of the outlaw. How easily it could be defended, the huntersperceived at a glance. The inmate of the cavern, if wakeful andcourageous, standing above the gorge with a single hatchet, could brainevery assailant on the first appearance of his head. How serious, then, the necessity of being able to know that the occupant of the chamberslept--that occupant being Guy Rivers. The pursuers well knew what theymight expect at his hands, driven to his last fastness, with the spearof the hunter at his throat. Did he sleep, then--the man who neverslept, according to the notion of his followers, or with one eye alwaysopen!

He did sleep, and never more soundly than now, when safety required thathe should be most on the alert. But there is a limit to the endurance ofthe most iron natures, and the outlaw had overpassed his bounds ofstrength. He was exhausted by trying and prolonged excitements, andcompletely broken down by physical efforts which would have destroyedmost other men outright. His subdued demeanor--his melancholy--were alldue to this condition of absolute exhaustion. He slept, not a refreshingsleep, but one in which the excited spirit kept up its exercises, so astotally to neutralize what nature designed as compensation in hisslumbers. His sleep was the drowse of incapacity, not the wholesomerespite of elastic faculties. It was actual physical imbecility, ratherthan sleep; and, while the mere animal man, lay incapable, like a log, the diseased imagination was at work, conjuring up its spectres aswildly and as changingly, as the wizard of the magic-lanthorn evokes hismonsters against the wall. 

His limbs writhed while he slept. His tongue was busy in audible speech. He had no secrets, in that mysterious hour, from night, and silence, andhis dreary rocks. His dreams told him of no other auditors. 

The hunter, who had found and raised the curtain that separated hischamber from the gloomy gorges of the crag, paused, and motioned hiscomrades back, while he listened. At first there was nothing but a deepand painful breathing. The outlaw breathed with effort, and the sighbecame a groan, and he writhed upon the bed of moss which formed hisusual couch in the cavern. Had the spectator been able to see, the lampsuspended from a ring in the roof of the cavern, though burning verydimly, would have shown him the big-beaded drops of sweat that nowstarted from the brows of the sleeper. But he could hear; and now aword, a name, falls from the outlaw's lips--it is followed by murmuredimprecations. The feverish frame, tortured by the restless andguilt-goading spirit, writhed as he delivered the curses in brokenaccents. These, finally, grew into perfect sentences. 

"Dying like a dog, in her sight! Ay, she shall see it! I will hiss inher ears as she gazes--'It is _my_ work! this is _my_ revenge!' Ha! ha!where her pride then?--her high birth and station?--wealth, family?Dust, shame, agony, and death!"

Such were the murmured accents of the sleeping man, when they weredistinguishable by the hunter, who, crouching, beneath the curtain, listened to his sleeping speech. But all was not exultation. The changefrom the voice of triumph to that of woe was instantaneous; and thecurse and the cry, as of one in mortal agony, pain or terror, followedthe exulting speech. 

The Georgian, now apprehensive that the outlaw would awaken, creptforward, and, still upon his hands and knees, was now fairly within thevaulted chamber. He was closely followed by one of his companions. Hitherto, they had proceeded with great caution, and with a stealth andsilence that were almost perfect. But the third of the party toenter--who was Brooks, the jailer--more eager, or more unfortunate, lessprudent certainly--not sufficiently stooping, as the other two had done, or rising too soon--contrived to strike with his head the pole whichbore the curtain, and which, morticed in the sides of the cavern, rancompletely across the awkward entrance. A ringing noise was theconsequence, while Brooks himself was precipitated back into thepassage, with a smart cut over his brows. 

The noise was not great, but quite sufficient to dissipate the slumbersof the outlaw, whose sleep was never sound. With that decision andfierce courage which marked his character, he sprang to his feet in aninstant, grasped the dirk which he always carried in his bosom, andleaped forward, like a tiger, in the direction of the narrow entrance. Familiar with all the sinuosities of his den, as well in daylight as indarkness, the chances might have favored him even with two powerfulenemies within it. Certainly, had there been but one, he could havedealt with him, and kept out others. But the very precipitation of thejailer, while it occasioned the alarm, had the effect, in oneparticular, of neutralizing its evil consequences. The two who hadalready penetrated the apartment, had net yet risen from their knees--inthe dim light of the lamp, they remained unseen--they were crouching, indeed, directly under the lamp, the rays of which lighted dimly theextremes, rather than the centre of the cell. They lay in the way of theoutlaw, as he sprang, and, as he dashed forward from his couch towardthe passage-way, his feet were caught by the Georgian who had firstentered, and so great was the impetus of his first awakening effort, that he was precipitated with a severe fall over the second of theparty; and, half stunned, yet still striking furiously, the dirk ofRivers found a bloodless sheath in the earthen floor of the cell. In amoment, the two were upon him, and by the mere weight of their bodiesalone, they kept him down. 

"Surrender, Guy! we're too much for you, old fellow!"

There was a short struggle. Meanwhile, Brooks, the jailer, joined theparty. 

"We're _three_ on you, and there's more without. "

The outlaw was fixed to the ground, beneath their united weight, asfirmly as if the mountain itself was on him. As soon as he becameconscious of the inutility of further struggle--and he could now moveneither hand nor foot--he ceased all further effort; like a wise maneconomizing his strength for future occasions. Without difficulty thecaptors bound him fast, then dragged him through the narrow entrance, the long rocky gorges which they had traversed, until they all emergedinto the serene light of heaven, at the entrance of the cavern. 

Here the idiot boy encountered them, now coming forward boldly, andstaring in the face of the captive with a confidence which he had neverknown before. He felt that his fangs were drawn; and his survey of theperson his mother had taught him so to dread, was as curious as thatwhich he would have taken of some foreign monster. As he continued thissurvey, Rivers, with a singular degree of calmness for such a time, andsuch circumstances, addressed him thus:--

"So, Chub, this is your work;--you have brought enemies to my home, boy!Why have you done this? What have I done to you, but good? I gave breadto your mother and yourself!"

"Psho! Chub is to have his own bread, his own corn, and 'taters, too, and a whole jug of whiskey. "

"Ah! you have sold yourself for these, then, to my enemies. You are abad fellow, Chub--a worse fellow than I thought you. As an idiot, Ifancied you might be honest and grateful. "

"You're bad yourself, Mr. Guy. You cursed Chub, and you cursed Chub'smother; and your man burnt down Chub's house, and you wanted to shootChub on the tree. "

"But I didn't shoot, Chub; and I kept the men from shooting you when youran away from the cave. "

"You can't shoot now, " answered the idiot, with an exulting chuckle;"and they'll keep you in the ropes, Mr. Guy; they've got you on yourback, Mr. Guy; and I'm going to laugh at you all the way as you go. Ho!ho! ho! See if I don't laugh, till I scares away all your white owlsfrom the roost. "

The outlaw looked steadily in the face of the wretched urchin, with acurious interest, as he half murmured to himself:--

"And that I should fall a victim to such a thing as this! The onlycreature, perhaps, whom I spared or pitied--so wretched, yet soungrateful. But there is an instinct in it. It is surely in consequenceof a law of nature. He hates in proportion as he fears. Yet he has hadnothing but protection from me, and kindness. Nothing! I spared him, when--but--" as if suddenly recollecting himself, and speaking aloud andwith recovered dignity:--

"I am your prisoner, gentlemen. Do with me as you please. "

"Hurrah!" cried the urchin, as he beheld the troopers lifting andsecuring the outlaw upon the horse, while one of the party leaped upbehind him--one of his hands managing the bridle, and the other graspingfirmly the rope which secured the captive; "hurrah! Guy's in the rope!Guy's in the rope!"

Thus cried the urchin, following close behind the party, upon hismountain-tacky. That cry, from such a quarter, more sensibly thananything besides, mocked the outlaw with the fullest sense of hispresent impotence. With a bitter feeling of humiliation, his headdropped upon his breast, and he seemed to lose all regard to hisprogress. Daylight found him safely locked up in the jail of Chestatee, the occupant of the very cell from which Colleton had escaped. 

But no such prospect of escape was before him. He could command none ofthe sympathies that had worked for his rival. He had no friends left. Munro was slain, Dillon gone, and even the miserable idiot had turnedhis fangs upon the hand that fed him. Warned, too, by the easy escape ofColleton, Brooks attended no more whiskey-parties, nor took hisbrother-in-law Tongs again into his friendly counsels. More--he doublyironed his prisoner, whose wiles and resources he had more reason tofear than those which his former captive could command. To cut off morefully every hope which the outlaw might entertain of escape from hisbonds and durance, a detachment of the Georgia guard, marching into thevillage that very day, was put in requisition, by the orders of thejudge, for the better security of the prisoner, and of public order. 

CHAPTER XLI. 

QUIET PASSAGES AND NEW RELATIONS. 

We have already reported the return of Lucy Munro to the village-inn ofChestatee. Here, to her own and the surprise of all other parties, heraunt was quietly reinstated in her old authority--a more perfect onenow--as housekeeper of that ample mansion. The reasons which determinedher liege upon her restoration to the household have been alreadyreported to the reader. His prescience as to his own approaching fatewas perhaps not the least urgent among them. He fortunately left her inpossession, and we know how the law estimates this advantage. Of hertrials and sorrows, when she was made aware of her widowhood, we willsay nothing. Sensitive natures will easily conjecture their extent andintensity. It is enough for the relief of such natures, if we say thatthe widow Munro was not wholly inconsolable. As a good economist, asensible woman, with an eye properly regardful of the future, we arebound to suppose that she needed no lessons from Hamlet's mother to makethe cold baked funeral-meats answer a double purpose. 

But what of her niece? We are required to be something more full andexplicit in speaking to her case. The indisposition of Lucy was notmaterially diminished by the circumstances following the successfuleffort to persuade the landlord to the rescue of Ralph Colleton. Thefeverish excitements natural to that event, and even the fruit of itsfortunate issue, in the death of Munro, for whom she really had agrateful regard, were not greatly lessened, though certainly somethingrelieved, by the capture of Rivers, and his identification with theoutlawed Creighton. She was now secure from him: she had nothing furtherto apprehend from the prosecution of his fearful suit; and the death ofher uncle, even if the situation of Rivers had left him free to urge itfurther, would, of itself, have relieved her from the only difficulty inthe way of a resolute denial. 

So far, then, she was at peace. But a silent sorrow had made its wayinto her bosom, gnawing there with the noiselessness and certainty ofthe imperceptible worm, generated by the sunlight, in the richness ofthe fresh leaf, and wound up within its folds. She had no word of sorrowin her speech--she had no tear of sorrow in her eye--but there was avacant sadness in the vague and wan expression of her face, that neededneither tears nor words for its perfect development. She was the victimof a passion which--as hers was a warm and impatient spirit--was doublydangerous; and the greater pang of that passion came with theconsciousness, which now she could no longer doubt, that it was entirelyunrequited. She had beheld the return of Ralph Colleton; she had heardfrom other lips than his of his release, and of the atoning particularsof her uncle's death, in which he furnished all that was necessary inthe way of testimony to the youth's enlargement and security; and thoughshe rejoiced, fervently and deeply, at the knowledge that so much hadbeen done for him, and so much by herself, she yet found no relief fromthe deep sadness of soul which necessarily came with her hopelessness. Busy tongues dwelt upon the loveliness of the Carolina maiden who hadsought him in his prison--of her commanding stature, her elegance ofform, her dignity of manner and expression, coupled with the warmth of adevoted love and a passionate admiration of the youth who had also soundesiringly made the conquest of her own heart. She heard all this insilence, but not without thought. She thought of nothing besides. Theforms and images of the two happy lovers were before her eyes at allmoments; and her active fancy pictured their mutual loves in colors sorich and warm, that, in utter despondency at last, she would throwherself listlessly upon her couch, with sometimes an unholy hope thatshe might never again rise from it. 

But she was not forgotten. The youth she had so much served, and sotruly saved, was neither thoughtless nor ungrateful. Having justsatisfied those most near and dear to him of his safety, and of theimpunity which, after a few brief forms of law, the dying confession ofthe landlord would give him and having taken, in the warm embrace of atrue love, the form of the no-longer-withheld Edith to his arms, he feltthat his next duty was to her for whom his sense of gratitude soondiscovered that every form of acknowledgment must necessarily proveweak. 

At an early hour, therefore--these several duties having beendone--Ralph made his appearance at the village-inn, and the summons ofthe youth soon brought Lucy from her chamber. 

She came freely and without hesitation, though her heart was tremulouswith doubt and sorrow. She had nothing now to learn of her utterhopelessness, and her strength was gathered from her despair. Ralph wasshocked at the surprising ravages which a few days of indisposition hadmade upon that fine and delicate richness of complexion and expressionwhich had marked her countenance before. He had no notion that she wasunhappy beyond the cure of time. On the contrary, with a modesty almostakin to dullness--having had no idea of his own influence over themaiden--he was disposed to regard the recent events--the death of Munroand the capture of Rivers--as they relieved her from a persecution whichhad been cruelly distressing, rather calculated to produce a degree ofrelief, to which she had not for a long time been accustomed; and which, though mingled up with events that prevented it from being consideredmatter for rejoicing, was yet not a matter for one in her situation verygreatly to deplore. 

Her appearance, however, only made him more assiduously gentle andaffectionate in the duties he had undertaken to perform. He approachedher with the freedom of one warranted by circumstances in recognising inher person a relation next to the sweetest and the dearest in life. Withthe familiar regard of a brother, he took her hand, and, placing herbeside him on the rude sofa of the humble parlor, he proceeded to thoselittle inquiries after her health, and of those about her, which usuallyform the opening topics of all conversation. He proceeded then to remindher of that trying night, when, in defiance of female fears, andlaudably regardless of those staid checks and restraints by which hersex would conceal or defend its weaknesses, she had dared to save hislife. 

His manner, generally warm and eager, dilated something beyond its wont;and if ever gratitude had yet its expression from human lips and inhuman language, it was poured forth at that moment from his into theears of Lucy Munro. 

And she felt its truth; she relied upon the uttered words of thespeaker; and her eyes grew bright with a momentary kindling, her checkflushed under his glance, while her heart, losing something of thechillness which had so recently oppressed it, felt lighter and lessdesolate in that abode of sadness and sweetness, the bosom in which itdwelt. 

Yet, after all, when thought came again under the old aspect--when sheremembered his situation and her own, she felt the shadow once more comeover her with an icy influence. It was not gratitude which her heartcraved from that of Ralph Colleton. The praise and the approval and thethanks of others might have given her pleasure, but these were notenough from him; and she sighed that he from whom alone love would beprecious, had nothing less frigid than gratitude to offer. But even thatwas much, and she felt it deeply. His approbation was not a little to aspirit whose reference to him was perpetual; and when--her hand inhis--he recounted the adventures of that night--when he dwelt upon hercourage--upon her noble disregard of opinions which might have chilledin many of her sex the fine natural currents of that godlike humanitywhich conventional forms, it is well to think, can not always fetter orabridge--when he expatiated upon all these things with all the fervor ofhis temperament--she with a due modesty, shrinking from the recital ofher own performances--she felt every moment additional pleasure in hisspeech of praise. When, at length, relating the particulars of theescape and death of Munro, he proceeded, with all the tender caution ofa brother, softening the sorrow into sadness, and plucking from grief asmuch of the sting as would else have caused the wound to rankle, shefelt that though another might sway his heart and its richer affections, she was not altogether destitute of its consideration and its care. 

"And now, Lucy--my sweet sister--for my sister you are now--you willaccede to your uncle's prayer and mine--you will permit me to be yourbrother, and to provide for you as such. In this wild region it fits notthat you should longer abide. This wilderness is uncongenial--it isforeign to a nature like yours. You have been too long itstenant--mingling with creatures not made for your association, none ofwhom are capable of appreciating your worth. You must come with us, andlive with my uncle--with my cousin Edith--"

"Edith!"--and she looked inquiringly, while a slight flush of the cheekand kindling of the eye in him followed the utterance of the single wordby her, and accompanied his reply. 

"Yes, Edith--Edith Colleton, Lucy, is the name of my cousin, and therelationship will soon be something closer between us. You will loveher, and she, I know, will love you as a sister, and as the preserver ofone so very humble as myself. It was a night of danger when you firstheard her name, and saw her features; and when you and she will converseover that night and its events, I feel satisfied that it will bring youboth only the closer to one another. "

"We will not talk of it farther, Mr. Colleton--I would not willinglyhear of it again. It is enough that you are now free from all suchdanger--enough that all things promise well for the future. Let not anythought of past evil, or of risk successfully encountered, obscure theprospect--let no thought of me produce an emotion, hostile, even for amoment, to your peace. "

"And why should you think, my sweet girl, and with an air of suchprofound sorrow, that such a thought must be productive of such anemotion. Why should the circumstances so happily terminating, thoughperilous at first, necessarily bring sorrow with remembrance. Surely youare now but exhibiting the sometimes coy perversity which is ascribed toyour sex. You are now, in a moment of calm, but assuming those winningplayfulnesses of a sex, conscious of charm and power, which, in a timeof danger, your more masculine thought had rejected as unbecoming. Youforget, Lucy, that I have you in charge--that you are now mysister--that my promise to your departed uncle, not less than my owndesire to that effect, makes me your guardian for the future--and that Iam now come, hopeful of success, to take you with me to my own country, and to bring you acquainted with her--(I must keep no secret from you, who are my sister)--who has my heart--who--but you are sick, Lucy. Whatmeans this emotion?"

"Nothing, nothing, Mr. Colleton. A momentary weakness from my lateindisposition--it will soon be over. Indeed, I am already well. Go on, sir--go on!"

"Lucy, why these titles? Why such formality? Speak to me as if I werethe new friend, at least, if you will not behold in me an old one. Ihave received too much good service from you to permit of thisconstraint. Call me Ralph--or Colleton--or--or--nay, look not socoldly--why not call me your brother?"

"Brother--brother be it then, Ralph Colleton--brother--brother. Godknows, I need a brother now!" and the ice of her manner was thawedquickly by his appeal, in which her accurate sense, sufficientlyunclouded usually by her feelings, though themselves at all timesstrong, discovered only the honest earnestness of truth. 

"Ah, now, you look--and now you are indeed my sister. Hear me, then, Lucy, and listen to all my plans. You have not seen Edith--my Edithnow--you must be _her_ sister too. She is now, or will be soon, something nearer to me than a sister--she is something dearer already. We shall immediately return to Carolina, and you will go along with us. "

"It may not be, Ralph--I have determined otherwise. I will be yoursister--as truly so as sister possibly could be--but I can not go withyou. I have made other arrangements. "

The youth looked up in astonishment. The manner of the maiden was veryresolute, and he knew not what to understand. She proceeded, as she sawhis amazement:--

"It may not be as you propose, Mr. --Ralph--my brother--circumstanceshave decreed another arrangement--another, and perhaps a less gratefuldestiny for me. "

"But why, Lucy, if a less pleasant, or at least a doubtful arrangement, why yield to it--why reject my solicitation? What is the plan to which, I am sad to see, you so unhesitatingly give the preference?"

"Not unhesitatingly--not unhesitatingly, I assure you. I have thoughtupon it deeply and long, and the decision is that of my cooler thoughtand calmer judgment. It may be in a thousand respects a less gratefularrangement than that which you offer me; but, at least, it will wantone circumstance which would couple itself with your plan, and whichwould alone prompt me to deny myself all its other advantages. "

"And what is that one circumstance, dear Lucy, which affrights you somuch? Let me know. What peculiarity of mine--what thoughtlessimpropriety--what association, which I may remove, thus prevents youracceptance of my offer, and that of Edith? Speak--spare me not in whatyou shall say--but let your thoughts have their due language, just as ifyou were--as indeed you are--my sister. "

"Ask me not, Ralph. I may not utter it. It must not be whispered tomyself, though I perpetually hear it. It is no impropriety--nopeculiarity--no wrong thought or deed of yours, that occasions it. Theevil is in me; and hence you can do nothing which can possibly change mydetermination. "

"Strange, strange girl! What mystery is this? Where is now that feelingof confidence, which led you to comply with my prayer, and consider meas your brother? Why keep this matter from me--why withhold anyparticular, the knowledge of which might be productive of a remedy forall the difficulty. "

"Never--never. The knowledge of it would be destructive of all beside. It would be fatal--seek not, therefore, to know it--it would profit younothing, and me it would crush for ever to the earth. Hear me, Ralph--mybrother!--hear me. Hitherto you have known me--I am proud to think--as astrong-minded woman, heedless of all things in her desire for thegood--for the right. In a moment of peril to you or to another, I wouldbe the same woman. But the strength which supports through the trial, subsides when it is over. The ship that battles with the storms and theseas, with something like a kindred buoyancy, goes down with the calmthat follows their violence. It is so with me. I could do much--muchmore than woman generally--in the day of trial, but I am the weakest ofmy sex when it is over. Would you have the secret of these weaknesses inyour possession, when you must know that the very consciousness, that itis beyond my own control, must be fatal to that pride of sex which, perhaps, only sustains me now? Ask me not further, Ralph, on thissubject. I can tell you nothing; I _will_ tell you nothing; and to pressme farther must only be to estrange me the more. It is sufficient that Icall you brother--that I pledge myself to love you as a sister--assister never loved brother before. This is as much as I can do, RalphColleton--is it not enough?"

The youth tried numberless arguments and entreaties, but in vain toshake her purpose; and the sorrowful expression of his voice and manner, not less than of his language, sufficiently assured her of the deepmortification which he felt upon her denial. She soothed his spirit witha gentleness peculiarly her own, and, as if she had satisfied herselfthat she had done enough for the delicacy of her scruples in one leadingconsideration, she took care that her whole manner should be that of themost confiding and sisterly regard. She even endeavored to be cheerful, seeing that her companion, with her unlooked-for denial, had lost allhis elasticity; but without doing much to efface from his countenancethe traces of dissatisfaction. 

"And what are your plans, Lucy? Let me know them, at least. Let mo seehow far they are likely to be grateful to your character, and to makeyou happy. "

"Happy! happy!" and she uttered but the two words, with a brief intervalbetween them, while her voice trembled, and the gathering suffusion inher large and thickly-fringed blue eyes attested, more than anythingbesides, the prevailing weakness of which she had spoken. 

"Ay, happy, Lucy! That is the word. You must not be permitted to choosea lot in life, in which the chances are not in favor of your happiness. "

"I look not for that now, Ralph, " was her reply, and with such hopelessdespondency visible in her face as she spoke, that, with a deeperinterest, taking her hand, he again urged the request she had already sorecently denied. 

"And why not, my sweet sister? Why should you not anticipate happinessas well as the rest of us? Who has a better right to happiness than theyoung, the gentle, the beautiful, the good?--and you are all of these, Lucy! You have the charms--the richer and more lasting charms--which, inthe reflective mind, must always awaken admiration! You have animation, talent, various and active--sentiment, the growth of truth, propriety, and a lofty aim--no flippancy, no weak vanity--and a gentle beauty, thatwoos while it warms. "

Her face became very grave, as she drew back from him. 

"Nay, my sweet Lucy! why do you repulse me? I speak nothing but thetruth. "

"You mock me!--I pray you, mock me not. I have suffered much, Mr. Colleton--very much, in the few last years of my life, from the sneer, and the scorn, and the control of others! But I have been taught to hopefor different treatment, and a far gentler estimate. It is ill in you totake up the speech of smaller spirits, and when the sufferer is one soweak, so poor, so very wretched as I am now! I had not looked for suchscorn from you!"

Ralph was confounded. Was this caprice? He had never seen any proof ofthe presence of such an infirmity in her. And yet, how could he accountfor those strange words--that manner so full of offended pride? What hadhe been saying? How had she misconceived him? He took her hand earnestlyin his own. She would have withdrawn it; but no!--he held it fast, andlooked pleadingly into her face, as he replied:--

"Surely, Lucy, you do me wrong! How could you think that I would designto give you pain? Do you really estimate me by so low a standard, thatmy voice, when it speaks in praise and homage, is held to be the voiceof vulgar flattery, and designing falsehood?"

"Oh, no, Ralph! not that--anything but that!"

"That I should sneer at _you_, Lucy--feel or utter scorn--_you_, to whomI owe so much! Have I then been usually so flippant of speech--atrifler--when we have spoken together before?--the self-assured fopling, with fancied superiority, seeking to impose upon the vain spirit and thesimple confidence? Surely, I have never given you cause to think of meso meanly!"

"No! no! forgive me! I know not what I have said! I meant nothing sounkind--so unjust!"

"Lucy, your esteem is one of my most precious desires. To secure it, Iwould do much--strive earnestly--make many sacrifices of self. Certainly, for this object, I should be always truthful. "

"You are, Ralph! I believe you. "

"When I praised you, I did not mean merely to praise. I sought rather toawaken you to a just appreciation of your own claims upon a higher orderof society than that which you can possibly find in this frontierregion. I have spoken only the simple truth of your charms andaccomplishments. I have _felt_ them, Lucy, and paint them only as theyare. Your beauties of mind and person--"

"Oh, do not, I implore you!"

"Yes, I must, Lucy! though of these beauties I should not havespoken--should not now speak--were it not that I feel sure that yoursuperior understanding would enable you to listen calmly to a voice, speaking from my heart to yours, and speaking nothing but a truth whichit honestly believes! And it is your own despondency, and humility ofsoul, that prompts me thus to speak in your praise. There is no goodreason, Lucy, why you should not be happy--why fond hearts should not berejoiced to win your sympathies--why fond eyes should not look gladlyand gratefully for the smiles of yours! You carry treasures intosociety, Lucy, which society will everywhere value as beyond price!"

"Ah! why will you, sir--why, Ralph?--"

"You must not sacrifice yourself, Lucy. You must not defraud society ofits rights. In a more refined circle, whose chances of happiness will bemore likely to command than yours? You must go with me and Edith--go toCarolina. There you will find the proper homage. You will see thegenerous and the noble;--they will seek you--honorable gentlemen, proudof your favor, happy in your smiles--glad to offer you homes and hearts, such as shall be not unworthy of your own. "

The girl heard him, but with no strengthening of self-confidence. Thethought which occurred to her, which spoke of her claims, was that _he_had not found them so coercive. But, of course, she did not breathe thesentiment. She only sighed, and shook her head mournfully; replying, after a brief pause:--

"I must not hear you, Ralph. I thank you, I thank Miss Colleton, for thekindness of this invitation, but I dare not accept it. I can not go withyou to Carolina. My lot is here with my aunt, or where she goes. I mustnot desert her. She is now even more destitute than myself. "

"Impossible! Why, Lucy, your aunt tells me that she means to continue inthis establishment. How can you reconcile it to yourself to remain here, with the peril of encountering the associations, such as we have alreadyknown them, which seem naturally to belong to such a border region. "

"You forget, Ralph, that it was here I met with you, " was the suddenreply, with a faint smile upon her lips. 

"Yes; and I was driven here--by a fate, against my will--that we_should_ meet, Lucy. But though we are both here, now, the region isunseemly to both, and neither need remain an hour longer than it isagreeable. Why should you remain out of your sphere, and exposed toevery sort of humiliating peril. "

"You forget--my aunt. "

"Ay, but what security is there that she will not give you anotheruncle?"

"Oh, fie, Ralph!"

"Ay, she is too feeble of will, too weak, to be independent. She willmarry again, Lucy, and is not the woman to choose wisely. Besides, sheis not your natural aunt. She is so by marriage only. The tie betweenyou is one which gives her no proper claim upon you. "

"She has been kind to me, Ralph. "

"Yet she would have seen you sacrificed to this outlaw!"

Lucy shuddered. He continued:--

"Her kindness, lacking strength and courage, would leave you still to besacrificed, whenever a will, stronger than her own, should choose toassert a power over you. She can do nothing for you--not even for yoursecurity. You must not remain here, Lucy. "

"Frankly, then, Ralph, I do not mean to do so long; nor does my auntmean it. She is feeble, as you say; and, knowing it, I shall succeed inpersuading her to sell out here, and we shall then remove to a morecivilized region, to a better society, where, indeed, if you knew it, you would find nothing to regret, and see no reason to apprehend eitherfor my securities or tastes. We shall seek refuge among mykindred--among the relatives of my mother--and I shall there be asperfectly at home, and quite as happy, as I can be any where. "

"And where is it that you go, Lucy?"

"Forgive me, Ralph, but I must not tell you. "

"Not tell me!"

"Better that I should not--better, far better! The duties for which thehigh Providence brought us together have been, I think, fairlyaccomplished. I have done my part, and you, Mr. Colleton--Ralph, Imean--you have done yours. There is nothing more that we may not doapart. Here, then, let our conference end. It is enough that you havecomplied with the dying wish of my uncle--that I have not, is not yourfault. "

"Not my fault, Lucy, but truly my misfortune. But I give not up my hopeso easily. I still trust that you will think better of yourdetermination, and conclude to go with us. We have a sweet home, andshould not be altogether so happy in it, with the thought of yourabsence for ever in our minds. "

"What!--not happy, and she with you!"

"Happy!--yes!--but far happier with both of you. You, my sister, and--"

"Say no more--"

"No more now, but I shall try other lips, perhaps more persuasive thanmine. Edith shall come--"

His words were suddenly arrested by the energetic speech and action ofhis companion. She put her hand on his wrist--grasped it--andexclaimed--

"Let her not come! Bring her not here, Ralph Colleton! I have no wish tosee her--_will not_ see her, I tell you--would not have her see _me_ forthe world!"

Ralph was confounded, and recoiled from the fierce, spasmodic energy ofthe speaker, so very much at variance with the subdued tone of herprevious conversation. He little knew what an effort was requiredhitherto, on her part, to maintain that tone, and to speak coolly andquietly of those fortunes, every thought of which brought onlydisappointment and agony to her bosom. 

She dropped his hand as she concluded, and with eyes still fixed uponhim, she half turned round, as if about to leave the room. But thecrisis of her emotions was reached. She sickened with the effort. Herlimbs grew too weak to sustain her; a sudden faintness overspread allher faculties--her eyes closed--she gasped hysterically, and totteringforward, she sank unconscious into the arms of Ralph, which were barelystretched out in time to save her from falling to the floor. He bore herto the sofa, and laid her down silently upon it. 

He was struck suddenly with the truth to which he had hitherto shownhimself so blind. He would have been the blindest and most obtuse ofmortals, did he now fail to see. That last speech, that last look, andthe fearful paroxysm which followed it, had revealed the poor girl'ssecret. Its discovery overwhelmed him, at once with the consciousness ofhis previous and prolonged dullness--which was surely mortifying--aswith the more painful consciousness of the evil which he had unwittinglyoccasioned. But the present situation of the gentle victim called forimmediate attention; and, hastily darting out to another apartment, hesummoned Mrs. Munro to the succor of her niece. 

"What is the matter, Mr. Colleton?"

"She faints, " answered the other hoarsely, as he hurried the widow intothe chamber. 

"Bless my soul, what _can_ be the matter!"

The wondering of the hostess was not permitted to consume her time andmake her neglectful; Colleton did not suffer this. He hurried her withthe restoratives, and saw them applied, and waiting only till he couldbe sure of the recovery of the patient, he hurried away, without givingthe aunt any opportunity to examine him in respect to the cause ofLucy's illness. 

Greatly excited, and painfully so, Ralph hastened at once to thelodgings of Edith. She was luckily alone. She cried out, as he entered--

"Well, Ralph, she will come with us?"

"No!"

"No!--and why not, Ralph! I must go and see her. "

"She will not see you, Edith. "

"Not see me!"

"No! She positively declines to see you. "

"Why, Ralph, that is very strange. What can it mean?"

"Mean, Edith, it means that I am very unfortunate. I have been a blindfool if nothing worse. "

"Why, what can _you_ mean, Ralph. What is this new mystery? This is, surely, a place of more marvels than--"

"Hear me, Edith, my love, and tell me what you think. I am bewildered, mortified, confounded. "

He proceeded, as well as he could, to relate what had occurred; to give, not only the words, but to describe the manner of Lucy--so much of ithad been expressed in this way--and he concluded, with a warm suffusionof his cheeks, to mention the self-flattering conclusion to which he hadcome:--

"Now, Edith, you who know me so well, tell me, can you think it possiblethat I have done, or said anything which has been calculated to make hersuppose that I loved her--that I sought her. In short, do you think mecapable of playing the scoundrel. I feel that I have beenblind--something of a fool, Edith--but, on my soul, I can not recall amoment in which I have said or shown anything to this poor girl whichwas unbecoming in the gentleman. "

The maiden looked at him curiously. At first there was something like anarch smile playing upon her lips and in her light lively eyes. But whenshe noted how real was his anxiety--how deeply and keenly he felt hisown doubt--she felt that the little jest which occurred to her fancy, would be unseemly and unreasonable. So, she answered promptly, butquietly--

"Pshaw, Ralph, how can you afflict yourself with, any such notions? Ihave no doubt of the perfect propriety of your conduct; and I willventure to say that Miss Munro entertains no reproaches. "

"Yet, feeling so grateful to her, Edith--and when I first came here, lonely, wounded and suffering every way--feeling so much the want ofsympathy--I may have shown to her--almost the only being with whom Icould sympathize--I may have shown to her a greater degree of interest, than--"

"My dear Ralph, you are certainly one of the most modest young men ofthe present generation; that is, if you do not deceive yourself now, inyour conjectures touching the state of Miss Munro's affections. Afterall, it may be a sudden illness from exhaustion, excitement, terror--which you have undertaken to account for by supposing herdesperately in love. "

"Heaven grant it be so, " answered Ralph. 

"Well, whether so or not, do not distress yourself. I will answer forit, you are not to blame. And here, let me whisper a little secret inyour ears. However forbidden by all the wise, solemn, staid regulationsof good society, there are young women--very few I grant you--who will, without the slightest call for it, or provocation, suffer their littlehearts to go out of their own keeping--who will--I am ashamed to confessit--positively suffer themselves to love even where the case ishopeless--where no encouragement is given to them--where they can haveno rights at all, and where they can only sigh, and mourn, and envy thebetter fortunes of other people. I have no doubt that Miss Munro is oneof these very unsophisticated persons; and that you have been all thewhile, and only the innocent cause of all her troubles. I acquit you of_lèse majesté_, Ralph, so put off your doleful faces. "

"Don't speak so carelessly of the matter, Edith. We owe this dear girl aheavy debt--I do, at least. "

"And we shall try and pay it, Ralph. But you must leave this matter tome. I will go and see Lucy. "

"But she refuses to see you. "

"I will not be refused. I _will_ see her, and she _shall_ see me, and Itrust we shall succeed in taking her home with us. It may be, Ralph, that she will feel shy in thinking of you as a brother, but I will do mybest to make her adopt me as a sister. "

"My own, my generous Edith--it was ever thus--you are always the nobleand the true. Go, then--you are right--you must go alone. Relieve mefrom this sorrow if you can. I need not say to you, persuade her, if inyour power; for much I doubt whether her prospects are altogether sogood as she has represented them to me. So fine a creature must not besacrificed. "

Edith lost no time in proceeding to the dwelling and into the chamber ofLucy Munro. She regarded none of the objections of the old lady, theaunt of her she sought, who would have denied her entrance. Edith's wasa spirit of the firmest mould--tenacious of its purpose, and influencedby no consideration which would have jostled with the intended good. Sheapproached the sufferer, who lay half-conscious only on her couch. Lucycould not be mistaken as to the person of her visiter. The noblefeatures, full of generous beauty and a warm spirit, breathing affectionfor all human things, and doubly expanded with benevolent sweetness whengazing down upon one needing and deserving of so much--all told her thatthe beloved and the betrothed of Ralph Colleton was before her. Shelooked but once; then, sighing deeply, turned her head upon the pillow, so as to shut out a presence so dangerously beautiful. 

But Edith was a woman whose thoughts--having deeply examined the minutestructure of her own heart--could now readily understand that of anotherwhich so nearly resembled it. She perceived the true course foradoption; and, bending gently over the despairing girl, she possessedherself of one of her hands, while her lips, with the most playfulsweetness of manner, were fastened upon those of the sufferer. Thespeech of such an action was instantaneous in its effect. 

"Oh, why are you here--why did you come?" was the murmured inquiry ofthe drooping maiden. 

"To know you--to love you--to win you to love me, Lucy. I would beworthy of your love, dear girl, if only to be grateful. I know howworthy you are of all of mine. I have heard all. "

"No! no! not all--not all, or you never would be here. "

"It is for that very reason that I am here. I have discovered more thanRalph Colleton could report, and love you all the better, Lucy, as youcan feel with me how worthy he is of the love of both. "

A deep sigh escaped the lips of the lovely sufferer, and her face wasagain averted from the glance of her visiter. The latter passed her armunder her neck, and, sitting on the bedside, drew Lucy's head to herbosom. 

"Yes, Lucy, the woman has keener instincts than the man, and feels evenwhere he fails to see. Do not wonder, therefore, that Edith Colletonknows more than her lover ever dreamed of. And now I come to entreat youto love _me_ for _his_ sake. You shall be my sister, Lucy, and in timeyou may come to love me for my own sake. My pleasant labor, Lucy, shallbe to win your love--to force you to love me, whether you will or no. Wecan not alter things; can not change the courses of the stars; can notforce nature to our purposes in the stubborn heart or the wilful fancy:and the wise method is to accommodate ourselves to the inevitable, andsee if we can not extract an odor from the breeze no matter whence itblows. Now, I am an only child, Lucy. I have neither brother nor sister, and want a friend, and need a companion, one whom I can love--"

"You will have--have--your husband. "

"Yes, Lucy, and as a husband! But I am not content. I must have _you_, also, Lucy. "

"Oh, no, no! I can not--can not!"

"You _must_! I can not and will not go without you. Hear me. You havemortified poor Ralph very much. He swore to your uncle, in his dyingmoments--an awful moment--that you should be his sister--that you shouldenjoy his protection. His own desires--mine--my father's--all concur tomake us resolute that Ralph shall keep his oath! And he must! and youmust consent to an arrangement upon which we have set our hearts. "

"To live with _him_--to see _him_ daily!" murmured the suffering girl. 

"Ay, Lucy, " answered the other boldly; "and to love him, and honor him, and sympathize with him in his needs, as a true, devoted woman andsister, so long as he shall prove worthy in your eyes and mine. I knowthat I am asking of you, Lucy, what I would ask of no ordinary woman. IfI held you to be an ordinary woman, to whom we simply owe a debt ofgratitude, I should never dream to offer such an argument. But it isbecause you _do_ love him, that I wish you to abide with us; your lovehallowed by its own fires, and purifying itself, as it will, by theexercise of your mind upon it. "

The cheeks of Lucy flushed suddenly, but she said nothing. Edith stoopedto her, and kissed her fondly; Then she spoke again, so tenderly, sogently, with such judicious pleading--appealing equally to the exquisiteinstincts of the loving woman and the thoughtful mind--that thesuffering girl was touched. 

But she struggled long. She was unwilling to be won. She was vexed thatshe was so weak: she was so weary of all struggle, and she neededsympathy and love so much!

How many various influences had Edith to combat! how many were thereworking in her favor! What a conflict was it all in the poor heart ofthe sorrowful and loving Lucy!

Edith was a skilful physician for the heart--skilful beyond her years. 

Love was the great want of Lucy. 

Edith soon persuaded her that she knew how to supply it. She was sosolicitous, so watchful, so tender, so--

Suddenly the eyes of Lucy gushed with a volume of tears, and she buriedher face in Edith's bosom; and she wept--how passionately!--the sobbingsof an infant succeeding to the more wild emotions of the soul, andplacing her, like a docile and exhausted child, at the entire control ofher companion, even as if she had been a mother. 

"Do with me as you will, Edith, my sister. "

There was really no argument, there were no reasons given, which couldpersuade any mind, having first resolved on the one purpose, to abandonit for the other. How many reasons had Lucy for being firm in the firstresolution she had made!

But the ends of wisdom do not depend upon the reasons which enforceconviction. Nay, conviction itself, where the heart is concerned, israrely to be moved by any efforts, however noble, of the simplyreasoning faculty. 

Shall we call them _arts_--the processes by which Edith Colleton hadpersuaded Lucy Munro to her purposes? No! it was the sweet nature, thegentle virtues, the loving tenderness, the warm sympathies, the delicatetact--these, superior to art and reason, were made evident to thesuffering girl, in the long interview in which they were together; andher soul melted under their influence, and the stubborn will wassubdued, and again she murmured lovingly--

"Do with me as you will, my sister. "

CHAPTER XLII. 

"LAST SCENE OF ALL. "

There was no little stir in the village of Chestatee on the morningfollowing that on which the scene narrated in the preceding chapter hadtaken place. It so happened that several of the worthy villagers haddetermined to remove upon that day; and Colonel Colleton and his family, consisting of his daughter, Lucy Munro, and his future son-in-law, having now no further reason for delay, had also chosen it as their dayof departure for Carolina. Nor did the already named constitute the sumtotal of the cavalcade setting out for that region. Carolina was aboutto receive an accession in the person of the sagacious pedler, who, in aprevious conversation with both Colonel Colleton and Ralph, had madearrangements for future and large adventures in the way of trade--havingdetermined, with the advice and assistance of his newly-acquiredfriends, to establish one of those wonders of various combinations, called a country store, among the good people of Sumter district. Undertheir direction, and hopeful of the Colleton patronage and influence, Bunce never troubled himself to dream of unprofitable speculations; butimmediately drawing up letters for his brother and some other of hiskinsmen engaged in the manufacture, in Connecticut, of one kind of_notion_ or other, he detailed his new designs, and furnished liberalorders for the articles required and deemed necessary for the wants ofthe free-handed backwoodsmen of the South. Lest our readers should lackany information on the subject of these wants, we shall narrate a briefdialogue between the younger Colleton and our worthy merchant, whichtook place but a few hours before their departure:--

"Well, Bunce, are you ready? We shall be off now in a couple of hours orso, and you must not keep us waiting. Pack up at once, man, and makeyourself ready. "

"I guess you're in a little bit of a small hurry, Master Colleton, 'cause, you see, you've some reason to be so. You hain't had so easy aspell on it, no how, and I don't wonder as how you're no little airnestto get off. Well, you won't have to wait for me. I've jest got throughmending my little go-cart--though, to be sure, it don't look, no how, like the thing it was. The rigilators made awful sad work of the box andbody, and, what with patching and piecing, there's no two eends on italike. "

"Well, you're ready, however, and we shall have no difficulty at thelast hour?"

"None to speak on. Jared Bunce aint the chap for burning daylight; andwhenever you're ready to say, 'Go, ' he's gone. But, I say, Master Ralph, there's one little matter I'd like to look at. "

"What's that? Be quick, now, for I've much to see to. "

"Only a minute. Here, you see, is a letter I've jest writ to my brother, Ichabod Bunce, down to Meriden. He's a 'cute chap, and quite a Yankee, now, I tell you; and as I knows all his ways, I've got to keep a sharplook-out to see he don't come over me. Ah, Master Ralph, it's a hardthing to say one's own flesh and blood aint the thing, but the truth'sthe truth to be sure, and, though it does hurt in the telling, that's noreason it shouldn't be told. "

"Certainly not!"

"Well, as I say, Ichabod Bunce is as close and 'cute in his dealings asany man in all Connecticut, and that's no little to say, I'm sartin. He's got the trick, if anybody's got it, of knowing how to make yourpocket his, and squaring all things coming in by double multiplication. If he puts a shilling down, it's sure to stick to another; and if hepicks one up, it never comes by itself--there's always sure to be two on'em. "

"A choice faculty for a tradesman. "

"You've said it. "

"Just the man for business, I take it. "

"Jest so; you're right there, Master Colleton--there's no mistake aboutthat. Well, as I tell'd you now, though he's my own brother, I have tokeep a raal sharp look out over him in all our dealings. If he says twoand two makes four, I sets to calkilate, for when he says so, I'm surethere's something wrong in the calkilation; and tho' to be sure I doknow, when the thing stands by itself, that two and two does make four;yet, somehow, whenever he says it, I begin to think it not altogether sosartain. Ah, he's a main hand for trade, and there's no knowing whenhe'll come over you. "

"But, Bunce, without making morals a party to this question, as you arein copartnership with your brother, you should rather rejoice that hepossesses so happy a faculty; it certainly should not be a matter ofregret with you. "

"Why, how--you wouldn't have me to be a mean-spirited fellow, who wouldlive all for money, and not care how it comes. I can't, sir--'tain't myway, I assure you. I do feel that I wasn't born to live nowhere exceptin the South; and so I thought when I wrote Ichabod Bunce my lastletter. I told him every man on his own hook, now--for, you see, Icouldn't stand his close-fisted contrivances no longer. He wanted me towork round the ring like himself, but I was quite too up-and-down forthat, and so I squared off from him soon as I could. We never did agreewhen we were together, you see--'cause naterally, being brothers andpartners, he couldn't shave me as he shaved other folks, and so, 'causehe couldn't by nature and partnership come 'cute over me, he was alwaysgrumbling, and for every yard of prints, he'd make out to send two yardsof grunt and growls, and that was too much, you know, even for a pedlerto stand; so we cut loose, and now as the people say on the river--everyman paddle his own canoe. "

"And you are now alone in the way of trade, and this store which you areabout to establish is entirely on your own account?"

"Guess it is; and so, you see, I must pull with single oar up stream, and shan't quarrel with no friend that helps me now and then to send theboat ahead. "

"Rely upon us, Bunce. You have done too much in my behalf to permit anyof our family to forget your services. We shall do all that we cantoward giving you a fair start in the stream, and it will not be oftenthat you shall require a helping-hand in paddling your canoe. "

"I know'd it, Master Colleton. 'Tain't in Carolina, nor in Georgy, norVirginny, no--nor down in Alabam, that a man will look long forprovisions, and see none come. That's the people for me. I guess I mustha' been born by nature in the South, though I did see daylight inConnecticut. "

"No blarney, Bunce. We know you--what you are and what you arenot!--good and bad in fair proportions. But what paper is that in yourhand?"

"Oh, that? That's jest what I was going now to ax you about. That's mybill of particulars, you see, that I'm going to send on by the post, toIchabod Bunce. He'll trade with me, now we're off partnership, and be ascivil as a lawyer jest afore court-time. 'Cause, you see, he'll betrying to come over me, and will throw as much dust in my eyes as hecan. But I guess he don't catch me with mouth ajar. I know his tricks, and he'll find me up to them. "

"And what is it you require of me in this matter?"

"Oh, nothing, but jest to look over this list, and tell me how you'spose the things will suit your part of the country. You see I must tryand larn how to please my customers, that is to be. Now, you see, here's, in the first place--for they're a great article now in thecountry, and turn out well in the way of sale--here's--"

But we need not report the catalogue. Enough, that he proceeded tounfold (dwelling with an emphatic and precise description of eacharticle in turn) the immense inventory of wares and merchandises withwhich he was about to establish. The assortment was various enough. There were pen-knives, and jack-knives, and clasp-knives, anddirk-knives, horn and wooden combs, calicoes and clocks, and tin-wareand garden seeds; everything, indeed, without regard to fitness ofassociation, which it was possible to sell in the region to which he wasgoing. 

Ralph heard him through his list with tolerable patience; but when thepedler, having given it a first reading, proposed a second, with passingcomments on the prospects of sale of each separate article, by way ofrecapitulation, the youth could stand it no longer. Apologizing to thetradesman, therefore in good set terms, he hurried away to thecompletion of those preparations called for by his approachingdeparture. Bunce, having no auditor, was compelled to do the same;accordingly a few hours after, the entire party made its appearance inthe court of the village-inn, where the carriages stood in waiting. 

About this time another party left the village, though in a differentdirection. It consisted of old Allen, his wife, and daughter Kate. Intheir company rode the lawyer Pippin, who, hopeless of elevation in hispresent whereabouts, was solicitous of a fairer field for the exhibitionof his powers of law and logic than that which he now left had everafforded him. He made but a small item in the caravan. His goods andchattels required little compression for the purposes of carriage, and asmall _Jersey_--a light wagon in free use in that section, contained allhis wardrobe, books, papers, &c. --the heirlooms of a long and carefullyeconomized practice. We may not follow his fortunes after his removal tothe valley of the Mississippi. It does not belong to the narrative; but, we may surely say to those in whom his appearance may have provoked someinterest, that subsequently he got into fine practice--was notorious forhis stump-speeches; and a random sheet of the "Republican Star andBanner of Independence" which we now have before us, published in thetown of "Modern Ilium, " under the head of the "Triumph of Liberty andPrinciple, " records, in the most glowing language, the elevation ofPeter Pippin, Esq. , to the state legislature, by seven votes majorityover Colonel Hannibal Hopkins, the military candidate--Pippin 39, Hopkins 32. Such a fortunate result, if we have rightly estimated thecharacter of the man, will have easily salved over all the hurts which, in his earlier history, his self-love may have suffered. 

But the hour of departure was at hand, and assisting the fair Edith intothe carriage, Ralph had the satisfaction of placing her beside thesweetly sad, the lovely, but still deeply suffering girl, to whom heowed so much in the preservation of his life. She was silent when hespoke, but she looked her replies, and he felt that they weresufficiently expressive. The aunt had been easily persuaded to go withher niece, and we find her seated accordingly along with ColonelColleton in the same carriage with the young ladies. Ralph rode, as hishumor prompted, sometimes on horseback, and sometimes in a light gig--apractice adopted with little difficulty, where a sufficient number ofservants enabled him to transfer the trust of one or the otherconveyance to the liveried outriders. Then came the compact, boxy, buggy, buttoned-up vehicle of our friend the pedler--a thing for whichthe unfertile character of our language, as yet, has failed to provide afitting name--but which the backwoodsman of the west calls a go-cart; atitle which the proprietor does not always esteem significant of itsmanifold virtues and accommodations. With a capacious stomach, it iswisely estimated for all possible purposes; and when opened with amysterious but highly becoming solemnity, before the gaping andwondering woodsman, how "awful fine" do the contents appear to MissNancy and the little whiteheads about her. How grand are its treasures, of tape and toys, cottons and calicoes, yarn and buttons, spotted silksand hose--knives and thimbles--scissors and needles--wooden clocks, andcoffee-mills, &c. --not to specify a closely-packed and variousassortment of tin-ware and japan, from the tea-kettle and coffee-pot tothe drinking mug for the pet boy and the shotted rattle for the infant. A judicious distribution of the two latter, in the way of presents tothe young, and the worthy pedler drives a fine bargain with the parentsin more costly commodities. 

The party was now fairly ready, but, just at the moment of departure, who should appear in sight but our simple friend, Chub Williams. He hadnever been a frequent visiter to the abodes of men, and of course allthings occasioned wonder. He seemed fallen upon some strange planet, andwas only won to attention by the travellers, on hearing the voice ofLucy Munro calling to him from the carriage window. He could not be madeto understand the meaning of her words when she told him where she wasgoing, but contented himself with saying he would come for her, as soonas they built up his house, and she should be his mother. It was forthis purpose he had come to the village, from which, though surprised atall things he saw, he was anxious to get away. He had been promised, aswe remember, the rebuilding of his cabin, by the men who capturedRivers; together with sundry other little acquisitions, which, as theywere associated with his animal wants, the memory of the urchin did notsuffer to escape him. Ralph placed in his hands a sum of money, triflingin itself, but larger in amount than Chub had ever seen at any one timebefore; and telling him it was his own, rejoined the party which hadalready driven off. The pedler still lingered, until a bend in the roadput his company out of sight; when, driving up to the idiot, who stoodwith open mouth wondering at his own wealth, he opened upon him thepreliminaries of trade, with a respectful address, duly proportioned tothe increased finances of the boy. 

"I say, now, Chub--seeing you have the raal grit, if it ain't axing toomuch, what do you think to do with all that money? I guess you'd like tolay out a little on't in the way of trade; and as I ain't particularwhere I sell, why, the sooner I begin, I guess, the better. You ain't inwant of nothing, eh? No knife to cut the saplings, and pare the nails, nor nothing of no kind? Now I has everything from--"

Bunce threw up the lid of his box, and began to display his wares. 

"There's a knife for you, Chub Williams--only two bits. With that knifeyou could open the stone walls of any house, even twice as strong as GuyRivers's. And there's a handkerchief for your neck, Chub--Guy'll have towear one of rope, my lad: and look at the suspenders, Chub--fit for theking; and--"

Where the pedler would have stopped, short of the display andenumeration of all the wares in his wagon, it is not easy to say, butfor an unexpected interruption. One of the outsiders of the Colletonparty, galloped back at this moment, no other indeed, than our formeracquaintance, the blacky, Cæsar, the fellow whose friendship for Ralphwas such that he was reluctant to get him the steed upon which he lefthis uncle's house in dudgeon. Ralph had sent him back to see whatdetained the pedler, and to give him help in case of accident. 

Cæsar at once divined the cause of the pedler's delay, as he saw the boxopened, and its gaudy contents displayed before the eyes of thewondering idiot. He was indignant. The negro of the South has as littlereverence for the Yankee pedler as his master, and Cæsar was not slow toexpress the indignation which he felt. 

"Ki! Misser Bunce, aint you shame for try for draw de money out ob theboy pocket, wha' massa gee um?"

"Why, Cæsar, he kaint eat the money, old fellow, and he kaint wear it;and he'll have to buy something with it, whenever he wants to use it. "

"But gee um time, Misser Bunce--gee um time! De money aint fair git warmin de young man pocket. Gee um time! Le' um look 'bout um, and see wha'he want; and ef you wants to be friendly wid um, gee um somet'ingyouse'f--dat knife burn bright in he eye! Gee um dat, and le's bemoving! Maussa da wait! Ef you's a coming for trade in we country, youmus' drop de little bizness--'taint 'spectable in Car'lina. "

The pedler was rebuked. He looked first at Cæsar, then at Chub, andfinally handed the boy the knife. 

"You're right. There, Chub, there's a knife for you. You're a goodlittle fellow, as well as you knows how to be. "

Chub grinned, took the knife, opened both blades, and nodding his head, made off without a word. 

"The etarnal little heathen! Never to say so much as thank ye. "

"Nebber mind, Misser Bunce; dat's de 'spectable t'ing wha' you do. Always'member, ef you wants to be gempleman's, dat you kaint take no moneyfrom nigger and poor buckrah. You kin gib um wha' you please, but youmustn't 'speck dem to be gibbing you. "

"But in the way of _trade_, Cæsar, " said the pedler, putting his horsein motion. 

"Der's a time for _trade_, and a time for _gib_, and you must do degenteel t'ing, and nebber consider wha's de 'spense of it, or de profit. De nigger hab he _task_ in de cornfiel', and he hab for do um; but'spose maussa wants he nigger to do somet'ing dat aint in he task--dat'sto say in de nigger own time--wha' den? He _pays_ um han'some for it. When you's a trading, trade and git you pay, but when you's a trabellingwith gemplemans and he family, da's no time for trade. Ef you open youbox at dem times, you must jest put in you hand, and take out de t'ingwha' you hab for gib, and say, 'Yer Cæsar--somet'ing for you, boy!'"

"Hem! that's the how, is it?" said the pedler with a leer that wasgood-humoredly knowing. "Well, old fellow, as you've given me quite alesson how to behave myself, I guess I must show you that I understandhow to prove that I'm thankful--so here, Cæsar, is a cut for you fromone of my best goods. "

He accompanied the words with a smart stroke of his whip, a totallyunexpected salutation, over the shoulders, which set the negro off in acanter. Bunce, however, called him back; holding up a flaminghandkerchief of red and orange, as a means of reconciliation. Cæsar wassoon pacified, and the two rode on together in a pleasant companionship, which suffered no interruptions on the road; Cæsar all the waycontinuing to give the pedler a proper idea of the processes throughwhich he might become a respectable person in Carolina. 

There are still other parties to our story which it is required that weshould dispose of according to the rules of the novel. 

Let us return to the dungeon of the outlaw, where we behold him in asituation as proper to his deserts as it is new to his experience. Hitherto, he has gone free of all human bonds and penalties, save thatof exile from society, and a life of continued insecurity. He has neverprepared his mind with resignation to endure patiently such a condition. What an intellect was here allowed to go to waste--what fine talentshave been perverted in this man. Endowments that might have done thecountry honor, have been made to minister only in its mischiefs. 

How sad a subject for contemplation! The wreck of intellect, of genius, of humanity. Fortunate for mankind, if, under the decree of a saving andblessing Providence, there be no dark void on earth--when one brightstar falls from its sphere, if there is another soon lighted to fill itsplace, and to shine more purely than that which has been lost. May wenot believe this--nay, we must, and exult, on behalf of humanity--that, in the eternal progress of change, the nature which is its aliment noless than its element, restores not less than its destiny removes. Yet, the knowledge that we lose not, does not materially lessen the pang whenwe behold the mighty fall--when we see the great mind, which, as a star, we have almost worshipped, shooting with headlong precipitance throughthe immense void from its place of eminence, and defrauding the eye ofall the glorious presence and golden promise which had become associatedwith its survey. 

The intellect of Guy Rivers had been gigantic--the mistake--a mistakequite too common to society--consisted in an education limited entirelyto the mind, and entirely neglectful of the _morale_ of the boy. He wastaught, like thousands of others; and the standards set up for his moralgovernment, for his passions, for his emotions, were all false from thefirst. The capacities of his mind were good as well as great--but theyhad been restrained, while the passions had all been brought intoactive, and at length ungovernable exercise. How was it possible thatreason, thus taught to be subordinate, could hold the strife long, whenpassion--fierce passion--the passion of the querulous infant, and thepeevish boy, only to be bribed to its duty by the toy and thesugarplum--is its uncompromising antagonist?

But let us visit him in his dungeon--the dungeon so lately the abode ofhis originally destined, but now happily safe victim. What philosophy isthere to support _him_ in _his_ reverse--what consolation of faith, orof reflection, the natural result of the due performance of humanduties? none! Every thought was self-reproachful. Every feeling was ofself-rebuke and mortification. Every dream was a haunting one of terror, merged for ever in the deep midnight cry of a fateful voice which badehim despair. "Curse God and die!"

In respect to his human fortunes, the voice was utterly without pity. Hehad summed up for himself, as calmly as possible, all his chances ofescape. There was no hope left him. No sunlight, human or divine, penetrated the crevices of his dungeon, as in the case of RalphColleton, cheering him with promise, and lifting his soul with faith andresignation. Strong and self-relying as was his mind by nature, he yetlacked all that strength of soul which had sustained Ralph even whenthere seemed no possible escape from the danger which threatened hislife. But Guy Rivers was not capable of receiving light or warmth fromthe simple aspects of nature. His soul, indurated by crime, was asinsusceptible to the soothing influence of such aspects, as the coldrocky cavern where he had harbored, was impenetrable to the noondayblaze. The sun-glance through the barred lattice, suddenly stealing, like a friendly messenger, with a sweet and mellow smile upon his lips, was nailed as an angelic visiter, by the enthusiastic nature of the one, without guile in his own heart. Rivers would have regarded such avisiter as an intruder; the smile in his eyes would have been a sneer, and he would have turned away from it in disgust. The mind of the strongman is the medium through which the eyes see, and from which life takesall its color. The heart is the prismatic conductor, through which theaffections show; and that which is seared, or steeled, orossified--perverted utterly from its original make--can exhibit norainbows--no arches of a sweet promise, linking the gloomy earth withthe bright and the beautiful and the eternal heavens. 

The mind of Guy Rivers had been one of the strongest make--one of largeand leading tendencies. He could not have been one of the mere ciphersof society. He must be something, or he must perish. His spirit wouldhave fed upon his heart otherwise, and, wanting a field and dueemployment, his frame must have worn away in the morbid repinings of itsgoverning principles. Unhappily, he had not been permitted a choice. Theeducation of his youth had given a fatal direction to his manhood; andwe find him, accordingly, not satisfied with his pursuit, yet resolutelyinflexible and undeviating in the pursuit of error. Such are thecontradictions of the strong mind, to which, wondering as we gaze, withunreasonable and unthinking astonishment, we daily see it subject. Ourphilosophers are content with declaiming upon effects--they will notpermit themselves or others to trace them up to their causes. To healthe wound, the physician may probe and find out its depth and extent;the same privilege is not often conceded to the physician of the mind orof the morals, else numberless diseases, now seemingly incurable, hadbeen long since brought within the healing scope of philosophicalanalysis. The popular cant would have us forbear even to look at thehistory of the criminal. Hang the wretch, say they, but say nothingabout him. Why trace his progress?--what good can come out of theknowledge of those influences and tendencies, which have made him acriminal? Let them answer the question for themselves!

The outlaw beheld the departing cavalcade of the Colletons from thegrated window. He saw the last of all those in whose fortunes he mightbe supposed to have an interest. He turned from the sight with a bitterpang at his heart, and, to his surprise, discovered that he was notalone in the solitude of his prison. One ministering spirit sat besidehim upon the long bench, the only article of furniture afforded to hisdungeon. 

The reader has not forgotten the young woman to whose relief, from fire, Ralph Colleton so opportunely came while making his escape from hispursuers. We remember the resignation--the yielding weakness of herbroken spirit to the will of her destroyer. We have seen her leftdesolate by the death of her only relative, and only not utterlydiscarded by him, to whose fatal influence over her heart, at an earlierperiod, we may ascribe all her desolation. She then yielded without astruggle to his will, and, having prepared her a new abiding-place, hehad not seen her after, until, unannounced and utterly unlooked-for, certainly uninvited, she appeared before him in the cell of his dungeon. 

Certainly, none are utterly forgotten! There are some who remember--somewho feel with the sufferer, however lowly in his suffering--some who cannot forget. No one perishes without a tearful memory becoming activewhen informed of his fate; and, though the world scorns and despises, some one heart keeps a warm sympathy, that gives a sigh over the ruin ofa soul, and perhaps plants a flower upon its grave. 

Rivers had not surely looked to see, in his dungeon, the forsaken andthe defrauded girl, for whom he had shown so little love. He knew not, at first, how to receive her. What offices could she do for him--whatinfluence exercise--how lighten the burden of his doom--how release himfrom his chains? Nothing of this could she perform--and what did shethere? For sympathy, at such a moment, he cared little for suchsympathy, at least, as he could command. His pride and ambition, heretofore, had led him to despise and undervalue the easy ofattainment. He was always grasping after the impossible. The fame whichhe had lost for ever, grew doubly attractive to his mind's eye from theknowledge of this fact. The society, which had expelled him from itscircle and its privileges, was an Eden in his imagination, simply onthat account. The love of Edith Colleton grew more desirable from herscorn;--and the defeat of hopes so daring, made his fierce spirit writhewithin him, in all the pangs of disappointment, only neutralized by hishope of revenge. And that hope was now gone; the dungeon and the doomwere all that met his eyes;--and what had she, his victim, to do in hisprison-cell, and with his prison feelings--she whom Providence, even inher own despite, was now about to avenge? No wonder he turned away fromher in the bitterness of the thought which her appearance mustnecessarily have inspired. 

"Turn not away!--speak to me, Guy--speak to me, if you have pity in yoursoul! You shall not drive me from you--you shall not dismiss me now. Ishould have obeyed you at another time, though you had sent me to mydeath--but I can not obey you now. I am strong now, strong--very strongsince I can say so much. I am come to be with you to the last, and, ifit be possible, to die with you; and you shall not refuse me. You shallnot--oh, you will not--you can not--"

And, as she spoke, she clung to him as one pleading herself for life tothe unrelenting executioner. He replied, in a sarcasm, true to hisgeneral course of life. 

"Yes, Ellen! your revenge for your wrongs would not be well complete, unless your own eyes witnessed it; and you insist upon the privilege asif you duly estimated the luxury. Well!--you may stay. It needed butthis, if anything had been needed, to show me my own impotence. "

"Cruel to the last, Guy--cruel to the last! Surely the few hours betweenthis and that of death, are too precious to be employed in bitterness. Were not prayer better--if you will not pray, Guy, let me. My prayershall be for you; and, in the forgiveness which my heart shall trulysend to my lips for the wrongs you have done to me and mine, I shall notaltogether despair, so that you join with me, of winning a forgivenessfar more important and precious! Guy, will you join me in prayer?"

"My knees are stiff, Ellen. I have not been taught to kneel. "

"But it is not too late to learn. Bend, bow with me, Guy--if you haveever loved the poor Ellen, bow with her now. It is her prayer; and, oh, think, how weak is the vanity of this pride in a situation like yours. How idle the stern and stubborn spirit, when men can place you inbonds--when men can take away life and name--when men can hoot and hissand defile your fettered and enfeebled person! It was for a season and atrial like this, Guy, that humility was given us. It was in order tosuch an example that the Savior died for us. "

"He died not for me. I have gained nothing by his death. Men are as badas ever, and wrong--the wrong which deprived me of my right insociety--has been as active and prevailing a principle of human actionas before he died. It is in his name now that they do the wrong, and inhis name, since his death, they have contrived to find a sanction forall manner of crime. Speak no more of this, Ellen; you know nothingabout it. It is all folly. "

"To you, Guy, it may be. To the wise all things are foolish. But to thehumble heart there is a truth, even in what are thought follies, whichbrings us the best of teachings. That is no folly which keeps down, inthe even posture of humility, the spirit which circumstances would onlybind and crush in every effort to rise. That is no folly which preparesus for reverses, and fortifies us against change and vicissitude. Thatis no folly which takes away the sting from affliction--which has keptme, Guy, as once before you said, from driving a knife into your heart, while it lay beating against the one to which yours had brought allmanner of affliction. Oh, believe me, the faith and the feeling and thehope, not less than the fear, which has made me what I am now--which hastaught me to rely only on the one--which has made me independent of allthings and all loves--ay, even of yours, when I refer to it--is no idlefolly. It is the only medicine by which the soul may live. It is thatwhich I bring to you now. Hear me, then--Guy, hear the prayer of thepoor Ellen, who surely has some right to be heard by you. Kneel for me, and with me, on this dungeon floor, and pray--only pray. "

"And what should I pray for, and what should I say--and whom should Icurse?"

"Oh, curse none!--say anything you please, so that it have the form of aprayer. Say, though but a single sentence, but say it in the spiritwhich is right. "

"Say what?"

"Say--'the Lord's will be done, ' if nothing more; but say it in the truefeeling--the feeling of humble reliance upon God. "

"And wherefore say this? His will must be done, and will be done, whether I say it or not. This is all idle--very idle--and to my mindexcessively ridiculous, Ellen. "

"Not so, Guy, as your own sense will inform you. True, his will must bedone; but there is a vast difference between desiring that it be done, and in endeavoring to resist its doing. It is one thing to pray that hiswill have its way without stop, but quite another to have a vain wish inone's heart to arrest its progress. But I am a poor scholar, and have nowords to prove this to your mind, if you are not willing to think uponthe subject. If the danger is not great enough in your thought--if thehappiness of that hope of immortality be not sufficiently impressive toyou--how can I make it seem different? The great misfortune of thelearned and the wise is, that they will not regard the necessity. Ifthey did--if they could be less self-confident--how much more readilywould all these lights from God shine out to them, than to us who wantthe far sense so quickly to perceive and to trace them out in the thickdarkness. But it is my prayer, Guy, that you kneel with me in prayer;that you implore the feeling of preparedness for all chances which canonly come from Heaven. Do this for me, Guy--Guy, my beloved--thedestroyer of my youth, of all my hope, and of all of mine, making me thepoor destitute and outcast that you find me now--do this one, one smallkindness for the poor Ellen you have so much wronged, and she forgivesyou all. I have no other prayer than this--I have no other wish inlife. "

As she spoke, she threw herself before him, and clasped his knees firmlywith her hands. He lifted her gently from the floor, and for a fewmoments maintained her in silence in his arms. At length, releasing herfrom his grasp, and placing her upon the bench, on which, until thatmoment, he had continued to sit, he replied:--

"The prayer is small--very small, Ellen--which you make, and I know nogood reason why I should not grant it. I have been to you all that youdescribe me. You have called me truly your destroyer, and theforgiveness you promise in return for this prayer is desirable even toone so callous as myself. I will do as you require. "

"Oh, will you? then I shall be so happy!--" was her exclamation ofrejoicing. He replied gravely--

"We shall see. I will, Ellen, do as you require, but you must turn awayyour eyes--go to the window and look out. I would not be seen in such aposition, nor while uttering such a prayer. "

"Oh, be not ashamed, Guy Rivers. Give over that false sentiment of pridewhich is now a weakness. Be the man, the--"

"Be content, Ellen, with my terms. Either as I please, or not at all. Goto the window. "

She did as he directed, and a few moments had elapsed only when hecalled her to him. He had resumed his seat upon the bench, and hisfeatures were singularly composed and quiet. 

"I have done something more than you required, Ellen, for which you willalso have to forgive me. Give me your hand, now. "

She did so, and he placed it upon his bosom, which was now streamingwith his blood! He had taken the momentary opportunity afforded him byher absence at the window to stab himself to the heart with a penknifewhich he had contrived to conceal upon his person. Horror-struck, theaffrighted woman would have called out for assistance, but, seizing herby the wrist, he sternly stayed her speech and action. 

"Not for your life, Ellen--not for your life! It is all useless. I firstcarefully felt for the beatings of my heart, and then struck where theywere strongest. The stream flows now which will soon cease to flow, andbut one thing can stop it. "

"Oh, what is that, Guy?--let me--"

"Death--which is at hand! Now, Ellen, do you forgive me? I ask noforgiveness from others. "

"From my heart I do, believe me. "

"It is well. I am weak. Let me place my head upon your bosom. It is sometime, Ellen, since it has been there. How wildly does it struggle! Pray, Ellen, that it beat not long. It has a sad office! Now--lips--give meyour lips, Ellen. You have forgiven me--all--everything?"

"All, all!"

"It grows dark--but I care not. Yet, throw open the window--I will notrest--I will pursue! He shall not escape me!--Edith--Edith!" He wassilent, and sunk away from her embrace upon the floor. In the lastmoment his mind had wandered to the scene in which, but an hour before, he had witnessed the departure of Edith with his rival, Colleton. 

The jailer, alarmed by the first fearful cry of Ellen succeeding thisevent, rushed with his assistants into the cell, but too late. Thespirit had departed; and they found but the now silent mourner, withfolded arms, and a countenance that had in it volumes of unutterable wo, bending over the inanimate form of one whose life and misnamed love hadbeen the bane of hers. 

THE END.