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Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la m^thode. arrata to pelure, )n d n 3ZX 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 AMYOT BROUGH I 4 I St vie Acco2mt of Amyot Brough Captain in His Majefly's loth Rcjrimrnt of Foof^ wlw fmiglit (hutivith tio,i^rrcntj[^/orv) ufidrr H R.H. f/,c Duke of Cumberland /// t/ic Low Countries, nfid/iad the /iciinur to he xvoimded in iJic leftfhoulder under tlie eyes r/ General Wolfe at the taking o/" Quebec. By E. ViNCF.NT Briton Second /idle ion -<^i^L vy^ //': i 1 LONDON SEELEY 6- CO., 46, 47 & 48, ESSEX STREET, STRAxND {Late of 54, FLEET STREET) 1886 All Rights Reserved PREFACE. 1 In relating the plain and unvarnished iistoi)' o( Captain Amyot Brough, my mind has been entirely at ease on one important point — none will ask whether it be true or false. It is a pleasiiu'' re- flection, and my pen has much enjoyed the libert)' thereby secured. But another name is found in these pages — a name which all men honour, and concerning which I have not felt a like freedom. In treating of the doings and sayings of Captain Brough, I needed to take council of no one ; but in dealing with the character and deeds of the hero of Quebec, I was constrained to seek aid from other writers. I trust they have not misled me. My chief aim, however, has been to paint the man as I read his mind in his letters, of which a sufficient number are given in the biography by the Rev. R. Wright (1864) ; and I am bound to say that a careful study of these letters has constrained me to follow Mr. Wright in doubting the accuracy of the story told by Lord Stanhope of Wolfe's extravagant behaviour in his interview with Pitt E. V. B. October^ 1884. PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITIOxN In rcvisinj,^ this work for a cheaper edition, I have done a somewhat unusual thing, concernin|jj which I feel bound in courtesy to my readers to offer some explanation. The much luirry in which all men now live grows daily more apparent, and it has caused me some pain to reflect that, in the former edition of this book, I inflicted on my friends many unnecessary details, and lengthy conversations, for- getful that such trifles in the life of Amyot Brough, as were therein mentioned, could be of interest only to me, his faithful friend. Having, therefore, this opportunity, I have set myself to do away with much unnecessary matter, and having shown myself thus tender of my readers time and eyesight, I have ventured, encouraged by the many kindly criticisms which greeted the first appearance of this book, to add a few pages relating to the more private and personal history of Captain Brough. E. V. B. October, 1885. CONTENTS. k }. CltAl'TKU J>A(iK I. CONCKRNINO A DiRKFUL KVKNT - - - I II. IN Wmcif AN IMPORTANT LK ITER IS WRITTEN- 15 III. TORY MAKI'.S KRI'.K WIIH OTHER PEOPLE'S TAILS- 28 IV. A RI<'AL (;01)I)ESS - - - '3^ V. IN WHICFI WE TAKE A JOURNEY- - - 54 VI. WHEN TORY EINDS HIS LIITLE .MLSTRESS - 71 VII. IINDING HIS LEVEE - - - - 84 VIII. WHEREIN AMVOT 1!R0U(;H BETAKES HIMSELF TO THE NORTH - - - - lOI IX. RE15EL OR NO? - - - - - III \. CONCERNING THE AEEAIR OE CLIFTON liRIDGE - I23 XL OF EVENTS AFTER CULLODEN - - -137 XII. WHEREIN TWO LETTERS ARE RECEIVED - 148 XIII. CONCERNING A CHRLSTMAS ROUT - - 160 XIV. HUMILIATION - - - - - 1 76 XV. YEA OR NAY? - - - - - 187 XVI. CAPTAIN GUY - - - - - 197 XVII. CONCERNING A COUNTRY WEDDING - - 2IO XVIII. OF A CERTAIN HOUSE IN DRURY LANE - - 224 XIX. ACROSS THE BORDER .... 237 XX. LEAVE OF ABSENCE ... - 250 1 Vlll Conlcnts. CirAPTKK XXI. (JUK RY : A FOOL OR NOT? PAOK 269 280 295 305 XXn. lAR FROM THF, HUSY HUM XXIII. CONCr.RNINr, THF, F.NDINO OF A SHORT MFK XXIV. IN WHICH A SKCRI.T COMES TO LIGHT - XXV. IN WHICH WK MAKF. HUT .SMALL I'KOCRKSS XX VL CONCERNING A SUUDIN VISIT TO DRURV LANE- 326 XXVI I. IN WHICH TWO FRIENDS MEET AGAIN - - 342 XXVIIL IN WHICH MANY QUESTIONS ARE DERATED - 356 XXIX, CONCERNING A LAUGHAMLE EXI'LOIT - - 364 XXX. OF A siccoNU WOUND rfx:eived by AMYOT n ROUGH -.-... 377 XXXI. IN WHICH A LETTER ARRIVES - - - 399 XXXII. MRS. DARLRY CHANGF^S HER MODE OF DEALING 414 XXXIIL IN WHICH THE .SCENE SHIFTS TO ANOTHER CONTINENT - - . - . 427 XXXIV. WHEN ENGLAND JOYED AND WEPT - - 440 XXXV. IN WHICH WE TAKE LEAVE OF MANY FRIENDS - 462 i\J 1 \MYOT B ROUGH CHAPTER I. 427 440 462 rONTERMNCi A DIRKFUI- EVKXT. ' You arc rif^ht, iiiadain ; I'd have been wiser if I had stayed by own fireside in such weather as tliis ; but, you see, I had business to see to, and an old sailor is loath to show the white feather, th()ut;"h all the sj)irits of evil in the shai)e of sharp winds be abroad and adoin^ — which same evil spirits, as it seems to me, do as much mischief on land as on sea. Rut, as I said, it was business that brought me out, though if I'd had two grains of good sense I'd have stayed at home.' So said Cajitain Brough, late of his Majesty's Navy, as he stood at the door of the GrifTm Inn in Penrith town, and looked forth into the fast gathering darkness. It was barely three o'clock, but the snow had been falling tor some hours, and dense black clouds were coming up, pre- saging a still increasing fall. The mistress of the inn shivered, ami drew her shawl around her, remarking that her guest would have to stay the night in the town — the road must be blocked by the snow-drifts by this time. But that was of no matter ; the captain would find com- pany in the parlour, and a warm chimney corner, at any rate. The captain smiled and shook his head. B I 2 Amyot B rough. ' A warm fireside and a hearty welcome you never fail to offer, Mistress Thwaites,' he said ; ' but if your boy win bring round my cob before the weatlier worsens, I make no doubt but I'll cast anchor in my own port before night; for though I can't deny that my eyes are fair dazed with staring at the white blanket all a'^ound me, I'd trust old Jonah to find his way home to Broughbarrow were it as dark as pitch ; and I've my bits of bairns at home expecting me.' And with these words, waiting only till the stout horse had been made ready, the captain bade her a courteous good-night, and set out on his homeward way. Those in the inn-parlour gazed after him with some wonder and not a little anxiety, while the stable-boy shook his head ruefully, saying : ' A rakkan he'll niver dew it ; lang afooar he gits heeam, he an' t' nag '11 be lost in this terble girt snaa, sooa thae will, sewer an' sartan.' But the captain had no such misgivings. The distance was not great, old Jonah was stout and willing, and with the thought of the warm stable to allure him would breast the storm bravely, and scoff at the snow-drifts; and in imagination his rider fancied himself already past all danger, and snugly ensconced in his high-backed chair by his own chimney-corner. We will leave him to his battle with the snow, and let the wind carry us straight over hedges and ditches to that same fireside in the old parlour of Broughbarrow Farm, and make our own observations unconstrained by his pre- sence. And in truth, reader, I had as lief trust myself to the guidance of the wind as to aught else, for when I looked for Broughbarrow Farm a while since, though it seemed to me I knew exactly where it used to stand, I could not find it ; and well I know that in days of yore the captain used to say the wind and the old house were well acquainted. So on the wings of the wind we will travel 1 let hat lirm, ipre- If to •n I [h it lul, I |yore kvere ravel Aniyot B rough. 3 and whether it pleases to put us in at the front-door, or drop us down the chimney, is small matter on such a night as this, so long as we find ourselves safe sheltered from storm and snow at last. And the old parlour, with its high wainscoting and faded curtains, its polished floor, its bright log-fire, is a comfortable sight ; aye, and full of the cheerful sound of children's play and children's voices, that best of all music to the heart of him who loves God's creatures. The light has nearly gone ; the room would be dark, but for the glow on the hearth ; the lad who was reading by the windo)v ha.s thrown down his book, the little sister has deserted the task of sewing which has made her fingers ache for the last half-hour, and they are playing a wondrous same of their own in\'ention, which has no name in books of sports, but is glorious fun for all that, not only in their opinion, but in that of Tory, the dog, and Whig, the cat. It leads to many a clamber over chairs and tables, many a scamper out at one door and in at the other, many a spring from stool to chair, many a rush behind the curtains. ' If only I could creep as Whig does,' sighs little loan, quite out of breath, ' you'd never catch me, brother.' ' I ne\'er can catch Whig,' replied the boy. ' It's not fair of him ; he won't let himself be caught. Tory often thinks he's got him, but he's always just too late.' And as he spoke th-^ white poodle, having caught sight of the cat, made a bounce at him from the shining oak table on which he had been keeping guard, and, as usual, just missed his aim, but was unlucky enough to dexend with unusual weight on little Joan's dearest treasure, a waxen baby, which its mistress had ju.st put to sleep on a footstool. Her cry of alarm checked the game. Whig abandoned the idea of rushing up the curtains, and Tory, much terrified, came timidly to discover how much mischief he had done. The waxen beauty was tenderly picked up by its mistress, who seated herself on the floor Amyot B rough. to examine into the misadventure. Tory's paw had fallen too heavily on the doll's head, and the result was a serious crack across the crown. ' It's bad — very bad,' said the child. ' I doubt if Cleo- patra will recover. I do, indeed, Tory.' ' O-o-oh ! ' said Tory mournfully. ' You see, her head is cracked, and that's a mortal injury. No human being can recover when the head is cracked.' ' 0-o-o-oh ! ' said Tory in despair. ' It's of no use to say " Oh ! " in that doleful way. You should not be so clumsy, Tory ; I often tell you so.' Torv hung down his head, and heaved a deep sigh, whereupon Whig, who had been rubbing himself against Joan's anxious little face, seeing that Tory was in disgrace, thought it fitting to deal him a smart box on the ear. Tory looked piteous, but was too depressed to avenge himself, feeling that, considering the crime he had com- mitted, even Whig might be at liberty to punish him ; but Joan's sense of justice was ofrended. ' Whig, I wonder at you ! Have you no feelings at all ! When you see the trouble I am in, must you, too, begin to vex me ? Tory is not your kitten, that you should beat him. Do mind your own business foi once in your life ! My precious darling, does your head ache ? Do you think you are going to die ? ' ' Joan' said her brother, ' you are a goose. Who ever heard of a wax doll dying ? You are making Tory wretched ; he didn't mean to hurt the stupid thing.' ' He is careless, and thoughtless, and clumsy. You know you are, Tory.' Tory whined a piteous assent. He did know he was a wretch, a brute, a monster, the greatest villain that ever breathed ; but he adored his little mistress : he could not live if she would not forgive him, and he continued to utter short ejaculations of distress in such tones of larien- tation, that at length Joan condescended to say : Ajjtyoi Drough, ou ' There, that will do, I see you arc sorry ; we will hope the child will get better, and the crack will not show much if I make her a pretty cap to cover it. Shake hands, Tory, and make your bow.' Whereupon Tory wiped his eyes with his paws, rose gracefully on his hind legs, and laying one paw on his heart, extended the other to his little mistress, and th'-n, feeling quite himself again, gave Whig to understand it might be advisable to flee up the curtains, if he did not desire some return for his ill-natured treatment. Joan continued to lavish tender attentions on her baby, and Amyot, seeing that the romp was at an end, picked up his book and tried to pursue his reading by the fire- light. But the flame was so flickering and uncertain that he soon desisted, with the remark : ' It's very hard we mayn't have a light till father comes in. There's nothing on earth to do.' ' But candle-light costs a deal,' was the sage reply of the eight-year-old maiden, ' and you can think as well in the dark, and talk as well in the dark ; and I don't think it's good manners to sit mum and silent when you're not alone in the room. Deborah says book-learning makes men-folk dull and poor company ; and I think so, too.' ' And I think', said Amyot vehemently, ' that a man that can't read can have nothing to say worth hearing ; and so he'd better be mum, as you call it. Joan.' ' You are rude,' was the little maiden's calm reply ; ' why speak so loud, Amyot ? I am not deaf.' ' No ; but you aggravate me, Joan. I can't tell why, but you do.' The little sister looked at him with the same quiet gaze of dignified surprise with which she had subdued the dog Tory. She was a soft, gentle little creature, but wondrous staid and managing for her years. Her blue eyes ^vere serious and earnest; she could laugh a good ringing laugh, but she never smiled. Sometimes Amyot felt subdued by Amyot B rough. her air of unconscious authority, but not unfrequcntly his temper, naturally somewhat hasty, was ruffled by her very quietness. Being a year older than she was, it seemed to him that he ought to be able to consider himself older and wiser ; but instead of being able to enjoy any such feeling, he was continually conscious of her superiority in every respect but that of physical strength. He not unfre- qucntly lost his temper, she never did ; he was often idle and careless, she was ever occupied and busy ; he was constantly reproved for his short and uncourteous speeches, she could always say just the right word to everybody ; and thus, from one cause or another, Amyot could scarcely fail to have an idea that his little sister was his superior. Happily he could not accuse her of anything like conceit, and consequently his love for her was as real as his respect. True, as he had said, her calmness aggravated him, but he hated himself that so it was. She was a pretty thing to gaze at, this little maiden, with her fairy-like figure, clear skin, and long fair hair. Amyot's hair, too, was long, and both children wore it low upon their foreheads ; but Amyot's hair and skin had a darker tinge, his shoulders were broad, and he had little grace of movement. Tory and Whig took liberties with him which their sense of propriety would never have per- mitted them to attempt with their little mistress. He was their playfellow, she was their goddess. They would turn a deaf ear to his commands when such commands were not entirely to their minds ; her voice, never raised above the gentlest tones, brought them to her feet in a moment. The sudden cessation of the noisy game in the oak- parlour had brought on the scene one of the inmates of the kitchen — the afore-named Deborah, a stout, elderly country-woman, who, ever since the death of the captain's wife, four years before, had, to use her own expression, ' kept things going ' at the farm. Her husband, Michael ,.!f \ Amyot Brough. Jepbson, was hind, or managincr man, out of doors ; for the captain was, in their opinion, a mere babe about farm matters ; and how could he be auirht else, seeing that ploughs and harrows, spades and pitchforks, are of no account on board ship ? No doubt he might be well enough at driving a ship ; but it took a wiser man than he to keep a farm going, and that wiser man, in his own and his wife's opinion, was honest Michael Jepbson. But though they did not think highly of their master's wisdom, both husband and wife were truly attached to him and his children ; and Deborah's usually cheery face wore an expression of anxiety as she opened the door of the parlour to see how the children were amusing them- selves, and, in reply to Amyot's exclamation, ' I wish father would come home ! ' remarked : * It'll be lang afooar he'll git heeam t' ncet. Only hcear what a terble storm's cumman ; t' hoose an' t' trees can scarce bide wheer thae bea. Mappen he's stoppin' in Peerith, Michael says. Sewer, he'd niver bother to cum heeam sick a neet as thisan.' ' Not come home ! ' cried Amyot. ' Father's been a sailor ; he cares nought for wind and snow. Oh, he'll come home, I make no doubt at all ! ' ' Whist, lad, ycr ivver fur thinkin' yasell reet. We'll sec. I'd i''e terble glad to knaa as t' maester, top-cooart, pipe, an' a\ be. safe in Peerith this varra minute.' ' And I'd be glad to know he was coming down the lane, as I dare say he is,' responded Amyot. ' I'll ask Mike to come with me to meet him.' * Nae, that ta wilna. Mike an' his rheumatic to gang oot in t' snaa ! ' ' Then I'll go by myself.' ' Nae, I tell ya ; sit still in t' house, an' hooap all's reet sae lang as ya can.' And she turned back into the kitchen, leaving the chil- ,1 I' < 8 Arnyot B rough. ti' dren gazing at each other with awe-struck faces. Joan was the first to speak. ' Deborah is frighted,' she said ; ' but fatlier is never afraid of the wind and the rain. He will come home, Amyot.' ' If he can,' said Amyot. ' Mike told me one day that he remembered a storm which blocked up all the roads about here in a few hours, and it has been snowing all day. He said several men were lost in snow-drifts.' ' To-day ? ' ' No, not to-day ; that time years ago that Mike was telling me about.' ' Years ago the roads, I dare say, were very bad,' suggested Joan. ' I do hope father will get safe home. The wind does howl terribly.' There was something unusually sad in the little girl's voice. Tory's ear caught it, and fearing, doubtless, that she was still fretting over the mischance of her waxen baby, he came to her side with a sympathetic and re- gretful whine. ' Yes, Tory,' his little mistress said, ' we are thinking of your master and the storm, and we are very unhappy about him.' Tory sighed deeply, and went to the window to gaze out into the darkness. After a few minutes he pricked up his ears and seemed to listen. The children noticed this movement, and ran to the window to discover what was to be seen. But all was dark as pitch ; the wind howled, the snow beat against the pane ; and though Tory evidently heard something more, the children strained their ears in vain to catch the much-desired sound of horse's hoofs. * I shall go and tell Mike and Deborah,' Amyot ex- claimed. ' Tory thinks he hears something — thfl's plain enough.' MikQ and Deborah were sitting at their supper with Amyot B rough. ex- YdSw dth the two lasses who formed the kitchen stafT, when Amyot burst into the room exclaiming : ' Tory thinks he hears father coming ; but we can see nothing. Do, Mike, bring a light and come and see ! ' He rose slowly, but willingly enough ; for he too had had misgivings, though it was not his way to talk about them. Suddenly he stopped. ' A heears summat tew,' he said, ' bet it'll no be at t' hoose-dooar, Amyot, lad. A heears a scratchin' loike at t' shippen ; sewer t' maester's beean androoad rin theear ;' and he went down a long flagged passage, and opened a door that led into the back-yard. ' It isn't like father to do that,' murmured Joan, as the two children followed down the dark, cold passage, shivering as they met the keen blast that rushed in at the open door. Mike had disappeared ; but ere they reached the open air, they heard him utter an exclamation of astonishment and dismay, and at the same minute Tory rushed past them, barking furiously. 'Amyot, lad, bid yan o' t' women fooak ta get es a leet ; yan can see nowt,' called Michael in a voice which was full of fear ; and in a few minutes Deborah and both the lasses were out in the yard, she holding a lantern, by the light of which Michael was to be seen holding by its bridle a poor drenched horse, in as sorry a plight as horse could well be. ' Whist, whist ! ' said Deborah, as the girls began to utter cries of alarm. ' Joan, my lamb, rin in t' hoose ; t' wind will blaa ya reet awa'. Yer fadther mun a tummelt aff in t' snaa. Mike '11 ga a bit o' t' rooad, and he'll be sartan to meet wi' him, if bet t' mooan wud cum oot.' ' Let me come too, Mike,' pleaded Amyot, with white lips and eyes wide open with terror ; ' let me get up on Jonah, and come with you. Oh, I must go and find father ! ' lO A?nyoi Brouj^/i. Mike looked at his wife. She had pulled olTher shawl, and was wraj^ping it round the boy as he scrambled on to the weary horse's back. ' Ya mun let him ga,' was her reply ; and Mike took the bridie and turned the horse's head back the way he had just come. It was not easy to make Jonah stir: he was almost spent. Every hair on his bod}', as well as the saddle, was wet as possible. What could have hapi)cned to the master ? Where could he be at that moment ? This was the question in Deborah's mind ; but as Mike and the lantern disappeared, and the coiul was left in darkness, she turned to the trembling child beside her, and drawing her into her arms, carried her back into the warm kitchen, soothing her as best she might. Joan did not speak, but some quiet tears were falling ; and Deborah wished she would talk, and be for once, as she said to herself, like other bairns. There was a long silence, only broken by the one question from Joan, ' Did Tory go with hem ! ' and in answer to the assurance that the dog had followed close in the horse's steps, she sighetl, ' That is right ; it was his duty,' and said no more. An hour passed in this quiet suspense ; then the same muffled sound of trampling in the snow was heard, and Joan slipped down from Deborah's knee and darted to the door. The three women were following, but before they could lift the latch the door was opened from outside, and Amyot, panting, wet, and utterly worn out with battling against the wind, stumbled mto the room. Joan shrank back in alarm. Amyot's eyes stared at her, but did not seem to see her. Great sobs shook his whole body, and his breath came in deep gasps ; his face was as white as ashes, his long dark hair hung over his face. ' Ya mun teeak aff hes claes, and git him summat warm ta drink,' Deborah,' said Mike, who followed I 1 Affiyoi I ) rough. 1 1 . at his face his mat wed closely ; 'and a mun teeak Jonah t' shippcn, and then I'll ga call oot t' lads, and we'll ga tagither and leeak in t' river and ivverywhaars, an' niebbe we'll find hitn tecan side o' tuther. Bet git t' bairns t' bed, an' niak' 'em teeak summat to it.' He swung the heavy door behind him as he spoke, and was gone. Amyot had sunk down on the hearth before the fire, and, deaf to all Joan's entreaties that he would tell her where he had been, did nothing but fTy and sob, till the little sister fell into her wonted manner, and said : ' You will never be a man. I thought boys were ashar' 'd to cry and moan like babies. I am surprised at you, Amyot — Mike was right to say that Deborah should put you to bed.' ' Deborah will not put me to beil, and I am not a baby. But you do not care, Joan. I suppose it is nothing to you that father is drowned, and will never come h(;me again — never ! ' and Amyot burst out into a piteous wail which brought tears into Deborah's kind eyes, and made the two strong country lasses sob and cry. But Joan did not cry. Her little face grew very pale and almost old in its intense anxiety, as she clasped her small hands together, and gazed earnestly at her weeping- brother. ' It is not true, Amyot ; you love to frighten me, but I will not believe it is true. Deborali, it isn't true ; he is frightened, and doesn't know what he is saying. Jonah came safely home. Father may have fallen off and hurt himself, but he can't be drowned — can he ? ' ' Nae, nae, ma lamb. He sud a gaan roond be t' rooad ; bet mebbe he cudna find t' naarest rooad. Speeak ta her, Amyot, and tell her wot Mike telled ya, and whya ya are sae sewer es yer fadther's lost.' Amyot, tiius urged, made an effort to control himself, sat up, and in a choking voice told his tale. 12 Amyot B rough. ' Wo went exactly tlie way Jonah liad come. It was easy to find it, because he had slru}j;ifled alonj; thruuj^h the snow ; he had come straight ilown liic lane, but before that he must have lost himself, for the rack led into the little meadow, and right down to the river-side, and there, Mike says, he must have stumbled and l(jst his footing, and iMike believ>.'s they both fell into the water ; and, oh, it is deep there, and goes rushing and foaming along, and we could see nothing — nothing at all — neither in the river nor along the bank, and Jonah wouldn't stay; he was so frightened Mike couldn't hold him; he broke away, and would come home, and carried me with him.' ' An' a varra gude thing tew,' said Deborah sooth- ingly ; ' fer ya cuddent hae deen nae gude. Mike '11 dew better by hissel. An' noo, ma barn, ya mun coom ta bed, an' Joan '11 cum tew, loike a gude lile barn.' 'I'll come and sit by Amyot, but I cannot go to bed,' was Joan's resolute rejoinder. ' If they bring father home all wet and cold, there will be a deal to do, and he will want me.' Amyot's heavy eyes were closing before he was laid in his little bed. Was it the shock or the cold that had so crushed the strong-spirited lad ? Deborah feared it was both, and fears for her master, anxious thoughts for her husband out in the storm, and great misgivings for the little lad, together made up a burden, the like of which she had seldom known. She paced restlessly to and fro, upstairs and down, now listening at the back door, now gazing out into the darkness from an upper window, now returning to the room where the dark head was nestled in the pillow in an uneasy slumber, while the brighter head of the little girl lay back in a rocking-chair, as she kept her weary watch by the bedside ; anon returning to the kitchen to see that the fire was good and the kettle was boiling, that when the master came all might be in readiness. 1 Amyol Brouc^h. 13 When lie came ! Ah, if ever he should come ! The lon^ hours crept on slowly — oh, how slowly ! Only those who have watched for the morning' can j^uess how slowly it came at last. Debtirah hail listened to each hour as it struck, had struggled against the drowsiness which assailed her at the darkest, stillest hour of all, luul wrapped herself in her warmest shawl as the night grew colder and colder, had built uj) the logs on the hearth, had seen her candle burn down in the socket, and had lighted a fresh one, and still no sound was heard outside the farm. She had seen with relief that Amyot's sleep had grown more peaceful and natural, and had rejoiced to find, on one of her visits to his room, that the little sister's eyes had closed, and her bright head had sunk down on the pillow by his side ; the fears, the sense of responsibility at last forgotten, and the children were both fast asleep. How the good woman dreaded their awakening ! Long before simrise the beasts would be astir, the lasses would be at work, and then the children would awake. And what should she say to them ? How tell them to hope, when all hope had died in her breast ? ' But children are children,' she thought ; ' they'll not die of grief, though Amyot has a warm heart, and the lassie is not quite like other barns.' A footstep in the snow, a hand softly lifting the latch, and her husband stood within the door. A miserable figure, drenched and battered, dejection in every line of his usually cheery face, utter weariness and exhaustion in every movement ; and behind him, looking, if possible, still more a picture of despair, was the dog Tory. Michael spoke no word as he put down his lantern and stout stick, and spread his hands to the blazing log. Deborah gazed at him, and uttered the one word : ' The maestcr ? ' He shook his head. M I ( * Ysc nowt to tell.' 'I'hcn, turning to the iloj;, Nvlio was making tor the stairs, • Na, 'I'ory, lad/ lie saiil, ' tlioo imiiitia j;.inj; to t' barns. I