M IDE 5EM 
 

T A JL 
 
 PURITANS 
 
 THE REGICIDES THE FAIR PILGRIM. 
 CASTINE. 
 
 lO 
 
 "D ll*W ^ 
 I 
 
 NEW-HAVEN: 
 PUBLISHED BY A. H. MALTBY. 
 
 SOLD ALSO BY CARTER, HENDEE AND BABCOCK, CROCKER AND 
 BREWSTER, BOSTON : G. AND C. AND H. CARVILL, AND JONA. 
 
 LEAVITT, NEW-YORK: JOHN GRIGG, AND E. LITTELL, 
 
 rilJLADELPIIIA ; LUKE LOOMIS, PITTSBURGH ; 
 
 N. GUILFORD, CINCINNATI; AND vf. R. 
 
 BABCOCK, CHARLESfON, B. C. 
 
 1831. 
 
District of <omi ctCcut, sis, 
 
 BE it remembered, Tliat on the Sth day of 
 
 liz ~1 April, Anno Domini 1831, A. H. MALTBY of 
 
 II"* ")! tlie said District, hath deposited in tliis Office the 
 
 * * title of a Book, the title of which, is in the words 
 
 following to wit: 
 
 " Tales of the Puritans : the Regicides; the Fair Pilgrim; 
 Castine." 
 
 The right whereof he claims as proprietor, in conformity 
 with an act of Congress entitled " an act to amend the st- 
 several acts respecting copy rights." 
 
 CHAS. A. INGERSOLL, 
 Clerk of the District of Connecticut. 
 
 BALDWIN AND TREADWAY, PRINTERS, 
 

 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 We dio- no lands Jor tyrants but their irravcb-. 
 
 M269Q5S 
 
THE REGICIDES. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 IT was a bitter afternoon in December, the 
 air was intensely keen and piercing, the snow 
 had indeed at length ceased falling, but the 
 heavens looked drear and wintry. The ponds 
 
 in the village of G were all frozen, not with 
 
 that thin and glassy coating the first ray of 
 sunshine dissolves ; a smooth and substantial sur 
 face now bore the buoyant tread of the skaters. 
 A finer snow fall had not been known in the sea 
 son, the solid and beautiful substance lay in glit 
 tering expanse, on gardens and meadows, hills 
 and dales, loading the trees with a new and fea 
 thery foliage, and covering as with a mantle, eve 
 ry deformity of the relentless season. 
 
 It was now four o clock, as was evident from 
 the appearance of the common, in the centre of 
 the village, thronged with children who were 
 rushing delightedly from the walls of their lite 
 rary prison. 
 
 Education had not at that period reached its 
 present state of refinement ; and the joyful groups 
 that now surrounded the school house, compri 
 zed the whole juvenile population of the village, 
 without respect to the distinctions of age, rank, 
 2 
 
14 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 or sex. A shout of eager merriment swelled in 
 the air as the boys surveyed for a moment the 
 brilliant expanse before them, and then plunged 
 recklessly into the cold and beautiful element, 
 dashing it about them, and venting in a thousand 
 joyous freaks the untamed sportiveness of their 
 spirits. But the feminine part of the company 
 still lingered around the door. 
 
 "Richard! Richard !" cried a rosy little dam 
 sel on the platform, dressed in a green mantle 
 and hood, "Richard Lcet, I would like to know 
 how Alice Weldon and myself are to walk home 
 through these drifts ?" 
 
 " Ah ! on your feet, to be sure," replied the 
 courteous youth, at the same time saluting her 
 with a freshly molded ball. " Did you ever hear 
 of any other way of walking Susan ?" 
 
 "I tell you, Richard," continued the first im 
 patiently, " I shall freeze to death before we get 
 home, and as for poor little Alice she will perish 
 in the first drift. If Henry were only here," she 
 added, gathering up a handful of snow, and vain 
 ly seeking to revenge the insult, " I am sure he 
 would teach you to treat me more politely." 
 
 "Oh there they are," exclaimed a beautiful 
 child, who, clad in a scarlet coat with bonnet 
 and mittens of the same hue, stood gazing through 
 the window. "They have come at last." And 
 with a spring of delight she appeared at the door, 
 her sweet and merry laugh still echoing through 
 the building. 
 
 You will ride on my sled won t you Alice ?" 
 shouted \eral voices at once, as a party of 
 them c . -tinning from an adjacent shed, drag 
 ging th le little vehicles swiftly after them. 
 These Vv kly filled with their fair burthens, 
 
THK RF.CJiriDES. 15 
 
 but Alice still lingered on the step while the rest 
 continued in vain to urge her. 
 
 " Now you may as well hold your peace, every 
 one of you," exclaimed a proud, fine looking lad, 
 who at that moment caine up, his handsome fea 
 tures glowing with exercise, " she will ride on my 
 sled, and I will snow-ball any one that interferes, 
 and bury him in the first drift. Say, Alice," he 
 continued, softening his voice, "did you not pro 
 mise to ride with none but me?" 
 
 The little girl replied by springing on the sled, 
 and Henry after placing in her lap his Virgil and 
 dictionary, and exhorting her to hold fast, bound 
 ed off over drift and pit, nor paused until they 
 had safely reached the gate of their home. 
 
 It was a large white building, about a quarter of 
 a mile distant from the common, surrounded with 
 trees now leafless and snow-clad, and presenting 
 an air of comfort and convenience unequaled in 
 the village. The smoke was curling warm and 
 blue from its chimneys ; nevertheless the eyes of 
 our juvenile heroine and her knight, turned un- 
 tempted away : to the warm and springing pulse 
 of childhood, there is many a merrier thing than 
 the sparkling of a winter s hearth. 
 
 The meadow on the opposite side of the street, 
 just in front of the well finished mansion before 
 which they now paused, was with the juvenile popu 
 lation, at the present season of the year, a place of 
 extremely fashionable resort ; and for two especial 
 reasons. The one, a hill that reared itself in the 
 center, and presented at this moment to the eyes 
 of the wistful gazers one unbroken and towering 
 mass of whiteness ; the other, that broad and 
 famed expanse of water that stealing from the 
 
16 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 adjacent wood now lay, stiff and glittering on the 
 plain. 
 
 " Oh, it would be such a triumph," murmured 
 the proud boy to himself, " to have the first ride 
 on Briar hill. Better than the Latin premium h- 
 self." " Are you cold, Alice," he continued, 
 turning hesitatingly to his little charge, " I mean 
 very cold." 
 
 " Not very" replied the child, but with a strong 
 accent on the qualifying word. 
 
 " Then we will have a beautiful ride," contin 
 ued the other, darting impatiently across the way 
 just as the gay group he had left behind, appear 
 ed slowly bringing up the rear. 
 
 An irritated and impatient shout burst from 
 them as they perceived the ambitious design. 
 " Don t let him beat us," echoed in many an ear 
 nest tone but it was too late. Notwithstanding 
 his lovely little burthen, Henry Davenport toiled 
 rapidly up the precipitous ascent, arriving again 
 at the frozen pond just in time to welcome his 
 disappointed rivals. 
 
 A scene of the most exhilirating amusement 
 soon succeeded to the momentary chagrin. Sled 
 after sled, loaded to overflowing, descended 
 swiftly the steep declivity, bounding like things 
 of light over the frozen pond, and not unfre- 
 quently landing its passengers in the high snow 
 drift beyond. Then was heard mingling with 
 the creaking snow, the loud and merry shout 01 
 the spectators on the hill, and the laugh of the 
 fearless skaters, as they glided gracefully along 
 on their slippery footing. 
 
 But in the midst of this interval of exuberant 
 sport, there was a sudden pause. 
 
 " We never can have a moment s sliding," 
 
THK REGICIDES. 17 
 
 exclaimed Susan in a low vexed tone. " There 
 is some one coming from the house to warn us 
 in. :> 
 
 " Don t be afraid," answered Alice Weldon, as 
 she stood at the foot of the hill pulling the mit 
 tens from her little rosy fingers and seeking to 
 relieve them from the intense cold by rubbing 
 them together. " It is no one but Margaret." 
 
 "At all events, we ll have another slide," mut 
 tered the disappointed Richard. " Any body that 
 bears a message to me, can take the trouble to 
 come up the hill, I fancy." The proposal seem 
 ed to meet with universal approbation, and with 
 one accord the whole party scampered through the 
 snow till they had once more gained the summit. 
 
 The person whose appearance had excited so 
 much tumult, now rapidly approached. Judging 
 from the testimony of her extremely youthful 
 countenance, any one might have seen that she 
 herself had but recently emerged from an age, 
 when the amusement she was now contemplating, 
 would have been shared with enthusiastic plea 
 sure. As it was, a light and glad smile betokened 
 her sympathy. The complexion of the young 
 lady was exceedingly fair, a soft bloom gathered 
 over it as she toiled up the hill, light and cluster 
 ing curls lay on her forehead. The face was not 
 one of perfect beauty ; and yet there was in the 
 light of her large blue eye, an expression of 
 feminine sweetness, which could not fail to ren 
 der that countenance lovely to those who met its 
 glance. 
 
 "Ah !"you have come to take a ride with us," ex 
 claimed Henry in a coaxing tone, as the young 
 lady joined the group. 
 
 2* 
 
18 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 " And in fine company, truly," replied Miss 
 Weldon, laughing and shaking her head, though 
 her eye at the same moment, rested with a some 
 what wishful glance upon a party just then de 
 scending. " A fine figure I should make, Henry, 
 sliding down hill with a party of truants like 
 yourself. 
 
 Susan Leet drew up her Hp with scorn. 
 
 "Oh, but this once, Margaret, you cannot 
 think what beautiful sledding it is," continued 
 Henry. 
 
 " Don t tease cousin," whispered Susan mali 
 ciously. " She is engaged to be married, you 
 know, and would not be seen riding down hill for 
 the world. 
 
 Miss Weldon reddened slightly. " I am in 
 vested with authority to order you all from the 
 grounds," she added in the same light and hu 
 morous tone. " Come, gentlemen and ladies, you 
 are waited for at yonder mansion." 
 
 " And we will give you a ride for your trou 
 ble," replied Henry, while Richard bounded down 
 the steep. " Do, do, Margaret," he continued, 
 as the children crowded upon the sled. 
 
 " Ah, do. here is but just room enough for you 
 shouted several intreating voices ; and the young 
 lady, after a hasty survey, perceiving no one in 
 sight, yielded at once to the natural gayety of 
 her heart, and they were instantly darting along 
 the declivity. After a short, almost precipitous 
 descent, the slope was long and gradual, and they 
 had leisure to survey the objects before them. 
 
 " Look, Margaret," exclaimed Susan, at that 
 moment directing her eye to the road beneath. 
 " Do you not see that gentleman looking at us so 
 earnestly? Mr.Russel, as I live," she continued,. 
 
THE REGICIDES. 19 
 
 with an uncontrollable burst of laughter at the 
 idea of her cousin s mortification, " and two more, 
 coming the other way. Oh, Margaret, what can 
 you say to the minister?" 
 
 " Stop the sled, Henry ; let me get off, I in- 
 treat you," rapidly articulated the young lady; 
 but a moment s reflection convinced her that 
 neither the one nor the other of these intreaties 
 could be complied with, without danger to the 
 limbs and lives of the whole party; and while the 
 provoking little Susan seemed to exult in her em 
 barrassment, laughing until her eyes streamed 
 with tears, she was compelled to go on unresist 
 ingly. 
 
 "Good evening to you, Miss Weldon," ex 
 claimed a well dressed youth, who approached 
 the party just as the young lady had arisen from 
 the bank, and stood shaking the snow from her 
 dark mantle. The countenance of the young 
 student was interesting, and at this moment al 
 most handsome, for the sparkling flush of ex 
 ercise had gathered over its usual paleness. 
 "You must have had a charming ride, Miss 
 Weldon," he continued, with an expressive smile. 
 There was something slightly satirical both in 
 the look and tone of the speaker, and Margaret 
 Weldon was not the one to be ridiculed with 
 impunity ; but the keen retort that trembled on 
 her lips was interrupted by the appearance of 
 the other personages whose ill-timed appearance 
 had created so much embarrassment. 
 
 These were travelers, as their well muffled ap 
 pearance sufficiently indicated ; and a second 
 glance was sufficient to convince her that they 
 were not only strangers, but persons of a far 
 different stamp of character from those with 
 
20 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 whom she was wont to associate. They were 
 both youthful in appearance. The elder and 
 shorter of the two, was completely enveloped in 
 the folds of a huge coarse over-coat ; he wore on 
 his head a bear-skin cap, and a pair of well fur 
 red moccasons protected his feet. Two small and 
 twinkling eyes were the only portions of his fea 
 tures visible, through the double and triple coils 
 of worsted that surrounded them. 
 
 The other was attired much more carefully in 
 the style of a fashionable cavalier, and a cloak of 
 costly and gay materials was his protection from 
 the cold. 
 
 But Margaret had scarce time to make these 
 observations, ere the latter gentleman hastily ad 
 dressed her. 
 
 " Prythee, my pretty damsel, have pity on a 
 couple of errant and half frozen knights, and tell 
 us if a certain gentleman of the name of L,eet 
 resideth hereabouts. We should have reached 
 his house ere this, or our directions deceive us." 
 
 The style of address was evidently not relished 
 by the young lady, she drew up her slight form 
 with an air of dignity, replying with an expression 
 of cold politeness, to the forward advances of the 
 stranger. 
 
 " My uncle, sirs, the Governor of the Colony, 
 resides in this dwelling ; whether he be the person 
 you seek, or not, as strangers, you are welcome 
 to his hospitality." 
 
 There was no need of a second invitation, and 
 the whole party now entered the large enclosure 
 that surrounded the house. The snow had been 
 thrown up on either side from the long straight 
 gravel walks which led to the portico in front of 
 the building. Miss Weldon now conducted 
 
THE REGICIDES. 21 
 
 them across an angle of the spacious hall and 
 throwing open the door, at once introduced them 
 into the keeping room of her uncle s family. The 
 apartment was large, unostentatiously but com 
 fortably furnished. A well polished book-case 
 mounted on a chest of drawers, occupied one 
 corner of the room, and a mahogany cased clock 
 another; while that on the remote side from the 
 fire, was filled by an enormous cupboard, the 
 door of which was now thrown open, revealing 
 rare treasures of porcelain and silver. But the 
 apartment contained objects of far higher interest 
 to the cold and hungry travelers; a large round 
 table in the center of the room, spread with a 
 snow white cloth and covered with various dishes, 
 and on the hearth a huge blaze, that, roaring and 
 sparkling in the capacious chimney, diffused a light 
 and pleasant glow throughout the whole apart 
 ment. Little Susan, at the moment of their en 
 trance, was engaged in throwing down the long 
 chintz curtains, and as the candles had not yet 
 made their appearance, the objects of the room 
 were only illuminated by the brilliant fire light. 
 The other children, having previously effected 
 their escape to the house, were now seated around 
 the hearth, engaged in satisfying their hunger, 
 each from a bowl of bread and milk. 
 
 There were no other persons present, and Miss 
 Weldon, after placing chairs for her guests near 
 the grateful blaze, and laying aside her hat and 
 cloak, was hastening to leave the apartment. 
 
 Just at this moment the door she was approach 
 ing opened, and an elderly, pleasant-looking ma 
 tron made her appearance. The good lady paused 
 in considerable surprise at the sight of her unex 
 pected guests. 
 
22 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 "Mr. Russel, aunt," said Miss Weldon, in 
 rather an embarrassed tone, as she met her glance 
 of perplexed inquiry," "and the strangers," she 
 added in a still lower voice, " are strangers as 
 much tome as to yourself," 
 
 The young student was received with an air 
 of the most cordial welcome, and from the cha 
 racter of the smile which at that moment illumined 
 the benevolent countenance of Mrs. Leet, there 
 seemed some peculiar claim upon her kindness 
 and affection. 
 
 In reply to the urgent invitations of their hos 
 tess the strangers assured her that their business 
 allowed of slight delay, and that they had yet 
 many miles to travel ere their journey was ac 
 complished, repeating also the request for an im 
 mediate interview with the Governor of the Co 
 lony. 
 
 " He is coming," exclaimed Richard, who now 
 re-appeared from the hall ; and the next moment 
 the master of the house presented himself. His 
 figure was singularly erect, rather inclining to 
 corpulency, and the frosts of time had fallen 
 thickly on his head. The countenance, while it 
 was marked with a degree of shrewdness and 
 good humor, exhibited a certain unyielding look, 
 which perhaps formed its most striking character 
 istic. 
 
 He advanced slowly to the fire deigning only a 
 single glance towards his guests, and drawing the 
 shovel from its resting place in the corner, began 
 deliberately to separate from his boots the parti 
 cles of snow that still clung to them. 
 
 "Here is Mr. Russel, my dear," exclaimed 
 Mrs. Leet reprovingly, " just come from New-Ha 
 ven, in spite of cold and snow." 
 
THE REGICIDES. 23 
 
 "Ah, ah, good evening to you, Mr. Russel," 
 replied the old gentleman, casting another slight 
 glance upon him, and again resuming his em 
 ployment. "The blood must be younger in your 
 veins than in mine, Mr. Russel." 
 
 "The supper has waited for you, some time," 
 continued Mrs. Leet, in the same tone of gentle 
 admonition, " and these gentlemen are anxious 
 to see you on business." 
 
 "Supper and business, "continued the governor, 
 directing, as he spoke, one of his keen and quick 
 glances upon the strangers. "We will take our 
 supper first, Mrs. Leet, and talk of business here 
 after. No objections, sirs, I hope," he added, as 
 the knight of the blue cloak was about to attempt 
 a remonstrance. " I attend to no business until 
 we have taken our repast," and he set down the 
 shovel with an emphatic air. "Come, gentle 
 men, doff your cloaks," he added in rather a more 
 gracious tone, as the smoking dishes made their 
 appearance, " sit down with us, and I am at your 
 service. 
 
 The tone of decision was not to be resisted ; 
 and without further preamble, the strangers pre 
 pared to comply with the peremptory invitation. 
 The table presented, in a small space, a variety 
 of cheer seldom surpassed in more sumptuous 
 and costly entertainments; some alterations and 
 additions had indeed been made since the en 
 trance of the visiters, and the whole now exhib 
 ited an assemblage of inviting fare, which it 
 would have been hard for the famished guests to 
 have refused. We grieve to say that these ob 
 servations were principally made by the strangers 
 during the Governor s fervent petition for a hea 
 venly blessing on their repast, which was in truth 
 
24 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 protracted to an unusual length, though the whole 
 family joined in it with expressions of apparent 
 devotion. The quick and rather impatient^2mew 
 which the young gentlemen uttered at its conclu 
 sion, failed not to draw upon them the admiring 
 glances of the children by the fireside, and a 
 gentle expression of surprise from the fair damsel 
 who presided at the board. The attention of the 
 strangers, however, was too much absorbed by 
 the important occupation before them, to notice 
 any unfavorable impressions that might have 
 been made, and they now laid about them with 
 an air, that evinced a prudent determination to 
 make the best of their delay. 
 
 " You have had a long journey," said Mrs. 
 Leet, in an inquiring tone, as she pressed upon 
 her guests the unnecessary invitation to make 
 themselves at home in her dwelling. " You must 
 have been out in the storm, I presume." 
 
 " We were, madam," replied the younger 
 stranger, pausing a moment in his employment, 
 " our journey has lasted since the early dawn, 
 and I fear is likely to last until another." 
 
 " You are going further, then?" continued Mrs. 
 Leet, in whose gentle heart a slight sensation of 
 the curious began to awaken. 
 
 " We think of it madam," replied the elder, 
 interrupting his companion s more courteous re 
 ply. There was now another pause, and Mrs. 
 Leet seemed revolving in her mind, how it might 
 best be broken. 
 
 " We shall be sorry to see you go forth from the 
 
 shelter of our roof to night Mr. Pardon me 
 
 Sir, H have forgotten your name." 
 
 " Kellond, at your service, madam, Thomas 
 Kellond, and my friend Mr. Kirk." 
 
THE REGICIDES. 25 
 
 u Ah ! thank you let me help you to a bit of 
 this cold chicken Mr. Kellond, you must have 
 found but poor accommodations on your route. 
 You dined at Middle town, I presume Sir," contin 
 ued Mrs. Leet. 
 
 " We ate our last meal at Hartford, madam," 
 replied Mr. Kellond, " and certainly had nothing 
 to complain of, for we were greeted with the best 
 cheer the Governor of the colony could afford." 
 
 Governor Leet who had till this moment affect 
 ed perfect indifference to the communications of 
 the strangers, now lifted his large blue eyes, fix 
 ing them alternately upon each of his unknown 
 guests, with a gaze of deep and fluctuating curi 
 osity. A conversation which he had previously 
 maintained with Mr. Russel, was however quickly 
 resumed, though from time to time an anxious 
 glance at the strangers, intimated a greater de 
 gree of interest in their communications than he 
 chose to express. 
 
 The repast was at length completed, and, the 
 table having been removed to a less conspicuous 
 station, the family again encircled the fire. Mean 
 while every thing had been arranged according 
 to the well established rules of the household. A 
 fresh supply of fuel crackled on the neatly swept 
 hearth, the stand, the lights and the books, were 
 all in waiting. On the other side of the fire place, 
 the children surrounded a low round table, pur 
 suing their respective avocations with an air of 
 decorum, which contrasted strongly with the fro 
 lics on the hill. Susan Leet sat with a demure 
 countenance, knitting a pair of woolen hose for 
 her brother, while the latter leaned, with frown 
 ing brows, upon his slate, beside her, flourishing 
 his pencil with many a threatening manoeuvre, 
 3 
 
26 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 over the mysterious problems beneath. The youth 
 did indeed occasionally pause amid his mathe 
 matical reveries, to examine into the conduct of 
 an intelligent kitten sporting beneath the table, at 
 that moment dextrously engaged with Susan s 
 ball, and amusing her fancy with the graceful un 
 dulations of the long white thread, as it darted 
 across her way. 
 
 But no such trivial sport had power to arrest 
 the attention of Henry Davenport, as he bowed 
 his ^oung head over the classic page. His hand 
 supported his forehead, straying among the dark 
 and beautiful locks that shaded it, and whenever 
 the eye of the youthful scholar was for a moment 
 lifted, there was that in its deep lustre that told 
 of a mind fitted to revel among the rich fountains 
 of ancient lore, gifted with the inspiration of ex 
 alted fancy, and the energy of a daring spirit. 
 
 Alice Weldon, whose history is woven with our 
 tale, sat in a low chair beside him, in the first 
 bloom of infant thoughts and feelings, and with 
 the tints of cradle dreams still bright in her young 
 fancy. Her eyes seemed intent on the person 
 ages who now surrounded the fire, their naturally 
 pensive expression often vanishing amid smiles 
 and dimples, as she met their glances in return. 
 Indeed there were others who now began to sur 
 vey the scene with much interest. 
 
 Governor Leet, after exchanging his boots for 
 slippers, had seated himself by the opposite stand ; 
 the candles were snuffed, the spectacles wiped 
 and replaced, and he now seemed waiting with the 
 most comfortable composure, for any commmuni- 
 cations that might be made. The silence of cu 
 rious expectation pervaded the whole apartment, 
 interrupted only by the slight and occasional 
 
THE REGICIDES. 27 
 
 ringing of the China cups, as Mrs. Leet carefully 
 wiped and replaced them on the waiter. 
 
 Considerable hesitation seemed to exist with 
 the strangers, as to which of them should first open 
 their embassy ; but at length the elder, who had 
 hitherto maintained an air of studied reserve, broke 
 silence. 
 
 "Governor Leet, the business with which we 
 are intrusted, is of an official and private nature ; 
 it would be well that we had fewer witnesses." 
 
 " No one here but my family, I believe," 
 exclaimed the old gentleman, his eye passing 
 in rapid review over the circle, " unless, in 
 deed, we except this young friend of ours," and 
 his eye rested on Mr. Russel. " But we reckon 
 liim about as good as one of us," he added, 
 with an expression of pleasantry, which brought 
 the blood in richer tides to Miss Weldon s cheek. 
 " I beg your pardon, sir, but I believe we are all 
 to be trusted." 
 
 " Nevertheless you must be aware, sir," replied 
 Mr. Kirk, as he drew forth a large pocket book, 
 " that there are certain undertakings which need 
 to be executed with secrecy and despatch, in order 
 to insure them success." 
 
 " Perfectly, sir," rejoined the Governor quick 
 ly, as the young gentleman, after carefully exam 
 ining the contents of the pocket book, presented 
 him with a folded paper. The Governor glanced 
 anxiously over it, and those who were watching 
 his countenance perceived that it became instant 
 ly and strongly flushed. His natural composure 
 of aspect was however soon resumed, and he 
 began in a low whisper to examine its contents. 
 
 Miss Weldon was seated at the opposite side of 
 the stand on which her uncle leaned, and she be- 
 
28 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 came instantly aware that the kind of humming 
 tone into which the whisper had gradually swelled, 
 was not the unconscious and unnecessary sound 
 it seemed. With the quickness of female pene 
 tration, she at once perceived that there was 
 something in the contents of the paper, which her 
 uncle desired her to understand. The frill she 
 was working, dropped from her hand, and leaning 
 her head over the table she listened with breath 
 less interest to the voice of the reader. After a 
 short suspension, the low murmur again com 
 menced, but as yet, she caught nothing but a 
 confused mingling of words. Presently the 
 sounds became more distinct, and the words 
 " treason and rebellion," were plainly distinguish 
 ed. Then was another pause, and then distinctly 
 followed, " And we do hereby authorize and ap 
 point our true and loyal subjects" 
 
 " Governor Leet," exclaimed Mr. Kirk hastily, 
 " you must be aware that the revealing of state 
 secrets, may be attended with serious conse 
 quences." 
 
 " Aye, aye, true, Mr. Kirk," replied the old 
 gentleman, with an air of provoking affability; 
 and he was silent for a few minutes. Then 
 as if unconsciously relapsing again into his for 
 mer tone, " And we do hereby command" 
 
 " Governors and magistrates of said colonies" 
 
 " all possible measures" " imprisonment 
 
 of said regicides, and" "denounce as rebels" 
 
 " harbor and secrete said Whalley and Goff" 
 
 " who in any wise seek to defeat said Thomas 
 
 Kirk and Thomas Kellond, in the accomplish 
 ment of this our royal mandate." 
 
 The voice again sunk into its inaudible mur 
 mur ; but Margaret Weldon had heard enough. 
 
THE REGICIDES. 29 
 
 The Governor now re-folded the paper, and cast 
 ing a single glance at his niece, again placed it 
 in the hand of its owner. 
 
 "And what service is required of me?" he asked, 
 turning again to the English cavaliers who had 
 impatiently waited for his conclusion. 
 
 "Governor Leet," rejoined Mr. Kirk, his for 
 mal and moderate tones slightly quickened with 
 anger, "You must be aware that in compelling 
 us to hold our conversation in this public manner, 
 you debar us from any opportunity of making 
 those demands our occasions may require. It 
 cannot be expected that we should speak of our 
 embassy, without a due degree of precaution." 
 
 "Richard, my son, tell Willy to build a fire in 
 the other room. Beg your pardon, gentlemen, 
 don t be uneasy, we shall soon be able to discuss 
 the matter privately." 
 
 " It may be advisable for us to spare you this 
 trouble," interrupted Mr. Kellond, as Richard 
 prepared to obey. " Our most important demand 
 is that horses may forthwith be procured for us 
 to proceed on our journey. The Governor of 
 Connecticut hath forwarded us thus far, and we 
 are dependent upon your good offices for the re 
 mainder of the journey." Several minutes silence 
 succeeded this declaration. 
 
 " Governor Leet," rejoined Mr. Kirk impa 
 tiently, " it only remains for you to inform us, 
 whether you choose to furnish us with convenien 
 ces for traveling." 
 
 " As to that I cannot answer immediately," re 
 plied the Governor thoughtfully. "It must be 
 dangerous for man or beasl to cross the West 
 Hollow to-night. How was it Mr. Russel ?" 
 
 "The drifts had obstructed the way so com- 
 3* 
 
30 THE REGfCIDES. 
 
 pletely," replied the student, " that had I not 
 been entirely familiar with it, I should inevitably 
 have lost the track." 
 
 " I am sorry to inform you," continued the Go 
 vernor, addressing the strangers, " that my best 
 horse is at this moment disabled, and the other 
 two have been at hard sledding all the day. They 
 are out of the question, that is if I expect to see 
 them alive again. Nay, Mr. Kirk, the road is a 
 wretched one, and I would be sorry to risk the 
 neck of the best conditioned horse in the Col 
 ony." 
 
 " But, father, there is the sorrel colt" cried 
 Richard, throwing down his pencil, and prepa 
 ring to enter with spirit into the merits of the 
 case. 
 
 " Please attend to your slate, Master Richard," 
 replied the old gentleman, rather impatiently; 
 " but by the bye, the suggestion is not so bad," 
 he continued with apparent hesitation. " The 
 sorrel colt yes it will do well he is a vicious, 
 fractious thing, and the sooner his neck is broken 
 the better. That is, provided he breaks no neck 
 but his own. 
 
 " An excellent proviso, sir," interrupted Mr. 
 Kellond, "but as it would be rather an untoward 
 circumstance that both Mr. Kirk and myself 
 should fall with him, I propose that my compan 
 ion here do mount the animal, while I proceed on 
 foot after him, and then in case of any ill-timed 
 display of temper, one of us at least would sur 
 vive to accomplish the embassy. Also, from 
 what you have mentioned concerning the dispo 
 sition of the beast, I should deem it extremely 
 unlikely that he would for a moment tolerate any 
 
THE REGICIDEI. 31 
 
 additional burthen to what my friend Mr. Kirk 
 would furnish." 
 
 " Me !" exclaimed Mr. Kirk, with an ill con 
 cealed expression of dismay. " I do not know 
 whether you are in jest, Mr. Kellond, if you 
 are not, I know of no reason why your neck 
 should be held in higher estimation than my 
 own." 
 
 " But to cut the matter short," continued the 
 Governor, " I propose that you remain under 
 this roof for the night, and in the morning, as 
 early as you please, you shall be furnished with 
 accommodations for traveling." The gentle 
 men glanced fora moment hesitatingly upon each 
 other. 
 
 " We accept of your hospitable invitation, sir," 
 replied Mr. Kellond, " upon condition that you 
 despatch no one from your roof this night, with 
 intelligence of our errand." 
 
 "Certainly, young man, I promise you that no 
 one leaves my roof this night, unless it be of his 
 own free will and accord ; and moreover, I give 
 you my word that nothing concerning your em 
 bassy shall be repeated by me to any one. 
 
 Miss Weldon s countenance at that moment 
 grew pale at the thought of the fearful responsi 
 bility so suddenly devolved upon her; for she 
 was conscious that no other persons in the apart 
 ment had overheard enough of their communica 
 tions to form any clue to the nature of their er 
 rand. She felt that, to her exertions alone, her 
 uncle trusted, for conveying the intelligence of 
 this new warrant to the unfortunate exiles who 
 were its objects, and with the pride and heroism 
 of a young heart she resolved to endure any peril 
 rather than disappoint that confidence. 
 
32 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 Of the present condition of the banished judges 
 she knew little. Their general history was in 
 deed familiar to all ; that they had boldly stood 
 up for the rights of conscience and freedom 
 in their native land, even until the blood of a 
 royal martyr had stained their path ; that they had 
 once ranked high in that proud army whose valor 
 had awed the nations, and were now driven help 
 less and exiled, seeking succor amid men of the 
 same name and faith with themselves, and men 
 who professed the same high principles of ac 
 tion ; these were facts familiar to all. Neither 
 was she unaware that the regicides were at this 
 moment concealed in the village of New-Haven, 
 having been driven from their original place of 
 refuge, by the intelligence of an act of pardon 
 excluding them from its privileges, and a warrant 
 authorizing his majesty s subjects to apprehend 
 them wheresoever they might be. She was aware 
 also that the chief men of the colony favored their 
 concealment among them, affording them various 
 disguises; and she believed that in one of these 
 she herself had once seen them, though uncon 
 scious of it, at the moment of their interview. 
 
 To communicate to the Rev. Mr. Davenport 
 the intelligence she had thus singularly acquired, 
 seemed the only method of averting their ruin. 
 This must also be effected before morning, and it 
 only remained that she should speedily resolve 
 upon a proper messenger. At first thought, the 
 embassy seemed of too delicate a nature to be en 
 trusted to a second person, and she determined 
 herself to brave the inclemency of the weather 
 and in spite of snow and cold, to obtain this night 
 an audience of Mr. Davenport. But a recollec 
 tion of the fearful drifts that impeded the way, 
 
THE REGICIDES. 
 
 soon convinced her that this would be a mere 
 waste of life and courage. Margaret Weldon was 
 a betrothed bride ; and her eye soon rested on 
 one who combined in her estimation, all the ne 
 cessary qualifications, for so difficult an underta 
 king. 
 
 The evening now wore slowly away. There 
 had been a considerable effort, on the part of the 
 governor to sustain a conversation with his 
 guests ; but they now seemed to have exhaust 
 ed all peaceable topics and none appeared wil 
 ling to interrupt the awkward silence. In spite 
 of efforts at cordiality, mutual distrust and sus 
 picion evidently existed between them. 
 
 An appearance of the evening refreshment 
 consisting of nuts and apples did indeed restore a 
 slight degree of cheerfulness, and during the pe 
 riod employed in partaking of it, Miss Weldon 
 left the apartment. Presently after, a light knock 
 was heard on the outer door. 
 
 "It is a person wishing to speak with Mr. Rus- 
 sel" said the servant, who having but just entered 
 from the kitchen, hastened to obey the summons. 
 
 "Ask him to walk in then, Clara," said the 
 governor, "and don t stand with the door open." 
 
 "I have, sir," replied the servant, "but Mr. 
 Russel is requested to step to the door." The 
 gentleman thus called for, now taking a lamp 
 made his way to the hall, closing after him the 
 door of the parlour. A female figure well wrap 
 ped in a mantle, with bonnet so large as entirely 
 to conceal her features, was standing in the por 
 tico. 
 
 "Samuel," said the sweet voice of Margaret 
 Weldon, for it was none other than she, " Samuel 
 Russel, I pray you close the door, and listen to me ; 
 
34 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 I have much to tell you." The youth could scarce 
 refrain from an exclamation of surprise, but he 
 immediately complied with her request. 
 
 "Margaret, you are wild, I am sure you are," 
 he exclaimed in a subdued voice as he stepped 
 into the portico. 
 
 "I assure you, Samuel I could find no other way 
 of doing my errand ; for the strangers were watch 
 ing every movement so suspiciously I dared not 
 to send for you. But there is no time for apolo 
 gies. The gentlemen in the parlour are those 
 despatched in search of Whalley and Goffe, the 
 papers they gave uncle Leet is the warrant for 
 their arrest, and unless we can communicate with 
 them this night, to-morrow the judges will fall in 
 to their hands. Uncle Leet has, as you know, 
 given them his word that he will make no exer 
 tions in their behalf, but Samuel, you and I are pri 
 vate individuals, and we need not fear that our 
 conduct should draw upon the whole colony the 
 anger of the king." 
 
 " You speak nobly, Margaret ; I will proceed 
 immediately to New-Haven, and warn them of 
 their danger, but there are many things to be 
 considered. The strangers will be constantly on 
 the watch during the night and certainly will not 
 suffer any one to leave the enclosure unnoticed. 
 I doubt not their suspicions are all awake, and 
 even could I succeed in effecting my escape, my 
 absence in the morning would reveal the secret." 
 
 "You must set out," replied Margaret quickly, 
 " as soon as the gentlemen leave the parlour, and 
 before they have time to reconnoitre you will be 
 out upon the main road. And as for the morning, 
 1 fancy the strangers will wait for a slice or two ; 
 and you will be back to an early breakfast." 
 
THE REGICIDES. 35 
 
 " Nay, Margaret, but it is quite impossible," 
 replied the young gentleman, almost shuddering 
 at the idea of the perils he had so recently esca 
 ped, "it is quite impossible that I should return 
 again on foot, and as to horses, they seem totally 
 out of the question." 
 
 "But the sorrel is not so bad," continued Mar 
 garet, repressing a smile, "I do think that uncle 
 has slandered him a little. But Samuel we are 
 talking too long. If you will go, the horse shall 
 be ready for you at the other door. The moment 
 they leave the parlor make your way into the kitch 
 en, and I will see that it is cleared of spectators." 
 Mr. Russel had scarce time to assent to these pro 
 positions, ere Margaret had vanished from the 
 steps, disappearing the next moment around the 
 corner of the mansion. 
 
 It was not until the hour of evening prayer that 
 Miss Weldon again made her appearance. There 
 was an expression of deep concern on her coun 
 tenance; and Mr. Russel saw that her hand trem 
 bled slightly, as she leaned upon it while the 
 governor read aloud from the pages of the sacred 
 word. The portion selected was from the holy 
 melodies of the sweet singer of Israel, a lesson 
 beautifully appropriate to the state of the perse 
 cuted exiles, and there was something in its 
 promises of heavenly protection that fell soft and 
 soothing on the troubled hearts of some who 
 heard it. Neither was the prayer that ensued 
 better calculated to allay the prejudices of the 
 strangers. It forgot not the afflicted, the banish 
 ed, the outcast; and there was a pathos, and even 
 sublimity of expression, in the fervent entreaty 
 that God would remember those, to whom man 
 had forgotten to be gracious. 
 
36 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 Immediately after the conclusion of the eve 
 ning devotions, Margaret again left the apart 
 ment, directing as she passed a slight and quick 
 glance towards the student. 
 
 The tedious evening had now drawn to a close ; 
 and the governor with a heavy yawn failed not to 
 testify his pleasure at the signal for retirement. 
 
 The moment the door of the parlor had closed 
 upon the strangers, Mr. Russel hastened to fulfil 
 his appointment. As he entered the kitchen, 
 Miss YVeldon was standing by the fire and his 
 coat and cloak hanging over the chair beside her. 
 There was no time for ceremony, and while the 
 young man was casing his feet in the warm double 
 socks that had been provided for him, Miss Wei- 
 don hastily tied around his neck the fold of an 
 enormous worsted tippet, like what in these days, 
 would be styled a comforter. In addition to all 
 the other articles of clothing, she now essayed to 
 throw over him a huge drab cloak or rather blank 
 et, sufficiently ample in its dimensions to en 
 velope his whole person; but this last act of 
 her authority Mr. Poissel prepared to resist with a 
 considerable degree of firmness. 
 
 " Margaret, it is unbeseeming my character ; 
 it looks precisely like an Indian s blanket, indeed 
 I will not wear it." 
 
 " But you must, Samuel," replied the other in a 
 whisper. "I borrowed it of Indian Jack on pur 
 pose for a disguise ; and whoever meets you now 
 will never dream that it is not he," but with all 
 her anxiety, the young lady could scarce refrain 
 from a smile at the awkward appearance of her 
 lover. But the occasion was too serious for the 
 indulgence of mirth, and throwing open the door 
 she pointed to the identical little sorrel, whose 
 
THE REGICIDES. 37 
 
 unfortunate eccentricity of character had been 
 so faithfully portrayed by the Governor, tied to a 
 post of the shed and gazing indignantly around 
 him. The moon was partially obscured ; but the 
 reflection from the snow rendered every object 
 visible. 
 
 " Speak gently to him he will never bear to 
 be scolded," said Margaret, in a suppressed whis 
 per, "and now, Samuel, heaven speed you." In a 
 moment after, the sorrel and his burthen moved 
 swiftly down the avenue ; and Miss Weldon re 
 tired to her apartment, without further communi 
 cation with the family. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 NOTWITHSTANDING the warning of an early 
 breakfast, the sun was shining high through 
 the windows of the parlor ere the guests of Gov. 
 Leet made their appearance. 
 
 " Eight o clock, by Jupiter," exclaimed Mr. 
 Kellond, as they entered the room, for though the 
 breakfast table was spread, it was apparently un 
 occupied. "My word for it, Tom, that wily old 
 rascal means to outwit us." But his exclamations 
 were, at that moment, interrupted by the sight of 
 an unexpected auditress. Miss Weldon was 
 standing in one of the recesses of the windows; 
 but, as her figure was partly hid with the drapery 
 of the curtain, her presence had, at first, been 
 totally unnoticed. 
 
 " Good morning to you, fair damsel," continued 
 Mr. Kellond, with an air of undaunted effrontery; 
 and, approaching the window, he began to ad 
 dress her in that free and careless manner which 
 had before been so displeasing. Miss Weldon, 
 after returning his salutations with a haughty 
 nod, continued still to gaze from the window. 
 Directly opposite was the hill from which she had 
 first seen them, now thronged with all the chil 
 dren of the vicinity. Miss Weldon was appa 
 rently g?i/ : ,iig at their sports, though from time to 
 time an ; rxious glance down the road, might 
 
THE REGICIDES. 39 
 
 have convinced a careful observer, that some 
 object of higher interest claimed her atten 
 tion. 
 
 "Good morning, gentlemen," said the kind 
 and soft voice of Mrs. Leet, who at this moment 
 entered the room. " Margaret, my dear, you 
 should have told me that the gentlemen were 
 waiting," and the good lady hastened out again 
 to order her long delayed-breakfast. 
 
 " And where can Mr. Russel be so long, this 
 morning ?" exclaimed Mrs. Leet as the family with 
 only this exception encircled the table. " Have 
 you called him, Willy ?" 
 
 " His door is locked," replied the servant, " per 
 haps he has gone for a walk." A shadow at that 
 moment fell upon the wall. 
 
 "And here he is," cried Richard, who was 
 gazing from the window, while a deep and sud 
 den flush illumined the features of Miss Wel- 
 oon. 
 
 " You have taken an early walk, sir," said the 
 Governor, as the young gentleman with an an 
 imated countenance now entered the apart 
 ment, " but better late than never. Richard, 
 move your chair for Mr. Russel." Margaret gaz 
 ed earnestly upon her uncle s countenance, but 
 with all her scrutiny she found it impossible to 
 discover whether his apparent indifference on this 
 occasion was real or assumed. 
 
 " Allow us again to remind you, sir," exclaimed 
 Mr. Kirk, when the repast was nearly completed, 
 " that it will be necessary for us to set off on our 
 way immediately after breakfast, and we request 
 that horses may be provided for that purpose 
 according to your promise last evening." 
 
 "Aye, aye, sir," replied the old gentleman, 
 
40 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 with an emphatic hem. "Margaret, my dear," 
 he continued, turning to Miss Weldon, " you were 
 petitioning yesterday for a ride, and I dare say 
 Mr. Russel here, with all his love for pedestrian 
 excursions, would make no objections to a seat in 
 the sleigh. Well, I have business in town, this 
 morning, and here are a couple of dainty footed 
 travelers, ready to faint at the mention of a snow 
 drift. I believe we must e en tackle up. Willy, 
 my man, tell Simon to get out the sleigh." 
 
 " It is unnecessary to put you to this trouble," 
 exclaimed Mr. Kirk, for they were now rising 
 from the breakfast table. c; I can assure you, 
 Governor Leet, we must go on without further 
 delay. The horses referred to last evening must 
 surely be refreshed by this time, and we will 
 excuse the want of the vehicle you mention." 
 
 " Aye, aye much obliged to you, make your 
 selves easy, gentlemen, I am an old man, and 
 
 ! ^4.4.,, i U " * A "* 
 
 HKe my UWH way p*cn,y mud* j IQY^I* na 
 
 make yourselves easy," and so saying the govern 
 or quietly walked off to attend to the fulfilment 
 of his orders. Miss Weldon had left the room 
 to prepare herself for her ride ; and the strangers 
 finding resistance vain, slowly equipped them 
 selves for their journey. A loud ringing of sleigh 
 bells, at the door, presently announced that the 
 vehicle was in readiness ; but the Governor was 
 not to be hurried, and vain and fruitless were the 
 significant and angry glances of the strangers, 
 while he slowly and comfortably prepared to meet 
 the inclemencies of the weather. At length, 
 completely muffled from head to foot, the old 
 gentleman sallied forth, followed by the remainder 
 of the party. The kind "good morning," from the 
 group at the door, mingled with the sound of the 
 
THE REGICIDES. 41 
 
 cracking whip ; and, with a loud and merry jingle, 
 the sleigh started forth on its journey. The hor 
 ses were fleet, and the road not so bad as they had 
 been led to fear, so that by the time they had 
 reached New-Haven green, the clock on the old 
 meeting house was only pointing the hour of 
 noon, and its clear tones were yet ringing through 
 the village, as they drove up to the door of the 
 parsonage. 
 
 " Gentlemen/ said the venerable pastor of 
 New-Haven, after perusing the documents and 
 quietly listening to the representations of the 
 strangers, " you are probably not aware that nei 
 ther Governor Leet nor myself can furnish you 
 with any assistance in our official capacity, until 
 an assembly of the magistrates of the colony has 
 been convened, which will have full power to 
 consider your requests." 
 
 " You forget, certainly, sir," interrupted Mr. 
 Kirk, "that we are acting under the special ex 
 ercise of an authority, to which your assembly is 
 only a subordinate institution." 
 
 "I beg your pardon, sir," replied the governor 
 hastily, "the assembly is the supreme power of 
 this colony, and by no means a subordinate in 
 stitution. Without its sanctions we do not choose 
 to act in any emergency." 
 
 " And pray, Reverend Sir," answered Mr. Kel- 
 lond, a strong expression of contempt animating 
 his features, " will it please you to inform us, at 
 what time this high and honorable assembly, 
 to which the two houses of parliament are as no 
 thing, doth hold its sittings. We would grieve 
 to detract from the reverence due to so exalted a 
 tribunal ; but, as I have before remarked to you, 
 our business requires despatch." 
 4* 
 
42 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 "In the space of half an hour," replied Mr. Da 
 venport, without at all noticing the evident irony 
 of the gentleman s address, " in half an hour, 
 the magistrates will be convened. It is impos 
 sible that this should be effected sooner, mean 
 while let me intreat you to make yourselves at 
 home in my dwelling; we will signify to you our 
 conclusions as soon as possible." 
 
 The tedious interval occupied by the assembly 
 in its deliberations, was principally employed by 
 the strangers, in surveying the appearance of the 
 flourishing little village which surrounded them. 
 They had, however, sometime ago returned from 
 their excursions, ere the governor and Mr. Da 
 venport made their appearance. 
 
 "You have been walking," said the latter, 
 complacently, as he drew a chair to the hearth. 
 
 " We have," replied Mr. Kirk, in an abrupt 
 and ungracious tone, " but the result of your 
 meeting, sir." 
 
 " Aye truly," exclaimed the governor recollect 
 ing himself. "Then I must inform you, your 
 petition has been presented to the magistrates of 
 the colony." 
 
 " And what then ?" 
 
 " The subject was ably discussed by our reve 
 rend friend here, Mr. Davenport, and deacon 
 Hezekiah Gilbert, also the worthy Mr. Norton 
 made some interesting remarks, on the subject of 
 our relation to the king, in connection with that 
 of your petition." 
 
 " Your resolution, sir, your resolution, we will 
 spare the details." 
 
 " And it was resolved," continued the govern 
 or, composedly, " that as a body of men intrust 
 ed with the government of this colony, for the 
 
THE REGICIDES. 43 
 
 suppression of vice and the preserving of order 
 among us, we have nothing to do with the arrest 
 of his Majesty s subjects, except incase of actual 
 transgressions of the laws by which we are gov 
 erned. Resolved, that the exiled judges, \V lull- 
 ley and Goffe have not to our knowledge, in any 
 way incurred the penalties of said laws, therefore, 
 as magistrates, we are not authorized to arrest 
 them. Resolved, moreover, that we will not in 
 any wise hinder the accomplishment of your er 
 rand, by secreting or harboring said judges." 
 
 "Then," replied Kirk, rising hastily, while his 
 whole countenance colored with indignation, 
 "by the authority of this paper, will I search eve 
 ry house among you, until those rebels are drag 
 ged forth to justice. At your peril refuse me. And 
 wo to the traitor who dares secret them." 
 
 <: High words high words, young man," said 
 the governor calmly, " but take care, that you 
 do not make it my painful duty to set your feet in 
 the stocks, for abuse of your elders. As to the 
 search you propose, we shall certainly make no 
 objections. Every house in this village is open 
 to your examination, only take a kindly warning 
 that our own laws are in full force, and our ma 
 gistrates in perfect readiness to see them ex 
 ecuted." 
 
 The threat which this reply contained, was not 
 entirely lost upon the person to whom it was ad 
 dressed. Indeed the idea of personal danger 
 seemed greatly to soften the asperity of his feel 
 ings. A close examination of the village, was 
 indeed immediately commenced; but the rude 
 deportment previously displayed was now ex 
 changed for an air of decent civility. 
 
 It is not our intention to enter into the details 
 
44 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 of this day s grievous intrusion upon the sanctity 
 of New-Haven housewifery. Not a house, not a 
 room, not a cupboard that did not undergo the 
 scrutinizing gaze of Messrs. Kirk and Kellond. 
 Wo to the untidy dame who had sought with an 
 outside exhibition of neatness, to cover the de 
 formity of her interior management, for now was 
 her deception manifest. And wo to the notable 
 matrons whose clean and quiet dwellings the 
 feet of Messrs. Kirk and Kellond that day inva 
 ded. Not a chest escaped their Vandal touch ; 
 and the contents of trunks and closets lay spread 
 on the floor in strange confusion, while their fair 
 proprietors in mingled dismay and wrath, survey 
 ed the scene. But it is not to be supposed that 
 a confederacy of intelligent females was to be 
 outwitted by a couple of unassisted strangers ; 
 for, though the magistrates of the colony had re 
 fused to furnish further concealment of the regi 
 cides, the helpmates of said magistrates in the 
 true spirit of republicanism, secretly declared 
 that resolutions which they had no share in 
 forming, should not be considered as binding 
 upon themselves. The embassy of our worthy 
 travellers was consequently unsuccessful ; and, 
 as our history informs us, they departed the next 
 morning from the colony threatening the wrath 
 of the king upon the guiltless magistrates ; while 
 the matrons of New-Haven rejoiced in secret at 
 this triumph of their skill. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE early superstitions of New-England were 
 of a peculiar nature. Not only the public insti 
 tutions of its settlers, bore the -impress of the stern 
 faith they had adopted as their ruling principle, 
 but individual character, private affections, and 
 popular prejudices, were all shaped to the same 
 unyielding model ; and thus in the development 
 of those mysterious emotions of supernatural 
 dread so common to our nature, we find traces of 
 the same principle. The genii of oriental fancy, 
 the malignant spirits of German forests, the wild 
 fabric of Scottish credulity have all figured on the 
 pages of romance ; but it was on the broad shad 
 ows of eternal truth that the weakness of human 
 fear had here fastened its illusions, and a supersti 
 tion more vast, and more awful hung over the 
 glens and forests of New-England. When the 
 maiden trod quickly, on the lonely path at twi 
 light, it was not that a being of her own creative 
 fancy haunted it. Something more fearful than 
 the vision of the sportive fancy paled her cheek. 
 The object of her dread was one real and mighty 
 being, whose power extended from the abodes of 
 unholy spirits, to the dwelling places of earth, 
 throwing his mysterious and sinful influence even 
 around the inmost recesses of her own heart. 
 He had once stood first in the ranks of seraphs, 
 
46 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 and learned wisdom from the lips of the Eternal ; 
 mighty too he was, for he had even waged war in 
 heaven ; and all this wisdom, and all this might, 
 the voice of inspiration assured her, was enlisted 
 against her peace. It was not strange, therefore, 
 that those whom the puritans, in their credulity, 
 imagined in league with this Prince of darkness, 
 were regarded with sensations of unmingled hor 
 ror. And though this superstition had not, at the 
 date of this narrative, assumed that fearful as 
 pect which in after years spread such dismay 
 through the colonies, it was still openly encoura 
 ged by the sanction of good and enlightened 
 men. 
 
 It was about six months after the incidents re 
 corded in the last chapter, that a strong excite 
 ment of this description, began to make its ap 
 pearance in the colony of New-Haven. Tales of 
 fearful import were circulated through the vil 
 lage, strange sights and unearthly voices had 
 been seen and heard at midnight, and a secret 
 and indefinable dread thrilled through the hearts 
 of those whom necessity compelled to a solitary 
 walk at evening. When the subtle spirit of pop 
 ular superstition is once aroused, it floats not. long 
 in unsubstantial rumor ; the airy nothing soon 
 finds a "local habitation and a name." So it was 
 in the present instance. The mountain which rears 
 its head about two miles west of the village, was 
 at length declared a favorite haunt of the unearth 
 ly visitant. The various fearful reports began 
 now to concentrate on one fair and wandering 
 spirit, who for some unknown cause, had taken up 
 her abode amid the habitations of the material 
 world ; and many a fresh lip grew pale, as the 
 d escriptions of that strange and beautiful being 
 
THE REGICIDES. 47 
 
 were repeated everyday, with a more intense in 
 terest. It became, at last, generally reported and 
 believed, that just as the white mist began to 
 break away from the rock, a female form of ex 
 quisite, but faded beauty might be seen standing 
 amid the wreathing vapor, and gradually vanish 
 ing as it slowly curled from the mountain. Who 
 this fearful stranger might be, and what the cause 
 of her appearance, few dared to question ; though 
 each heart cherished its own secret and terrible 
 suggestions. Meanwhile, witnesses to the truth 
 of the tale, gradually increased; and it began 
 ere long to be secretly whispered, that the lady 
 of the mist came not unsummoned to disturb 
 their peace, that there were those among them 
 who had dared to make a league with death, and 
 a covenant with the power of darkness. We 
 grieve to add, that among the objects on whom 
 these horrid suspicions at last rested, were the 
 orphan nieces of Governor Leet, Margaret Wei- 
 don, and her fair young sister. 
 
 Mrs. Mary Wilmot a widowed lady of hi^h 
 respectability, who had about three years since" 
 emigrated from England, under the impulse of 
 religious motives, was now the only remaining 
 sister of their deceased father. Margaret Wei- 
 don had accompanied her across the Atlantic, 
 and with her, had passed a large proportion of 
 her time since her arrival in America ; but the 
 younger sister had now recently for the first time 
 come to reside beneath the roof of this affection 
 ate relative. Alice had only a few months 
 since arrived from England ; and as it was gene 
 rally believed, the occasion of her mother s death, 
 though the strange and obstinate reserve with 
 which Mrs. Wilmot and Governor Leet had re- 
 
48 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 pulsed every inquiry upon the subject, had na 
 turally given rise to many curious conjectures. 
 There was much too in the appearance of the 
 child herself to deepen their interest. Margaret 
 was pretty, but Alice Weldon was beautiful 
 singularly beautiful. It was not the mere grace 
 of form and feature, nor the expression of infan 
 tile sweetness, that constituted her chief charm. 
 It was a kind of gentle melancholy that lingered 
 always amid the beauty of her countenance, 
 stealing out in the light of her deep blue eyes, 
 when their snowy and drooping lids suddenly 
 lifted, softening the dimples of her gayest smile, 
 mellowing the tones of her rich voice even when 
 it trembled with laughter, and breathing over 
 the whole appearance a charm as indescribable 
 as facinating. And when the report once began 
 to circulate, that Margaret Weldon had been 
 seen in actual conference with the lady of the 
 mist, the suspicions that attached to her name, 
 were quickly and easily communicated to that of 
 her mysterious little sister. 
 
 It was just in this state of affairs that Henry 
 Davenport, who now resided beneath his father s 
 roof, one calm night in June, found himself sud 
 denly aroused from a profound slumber, at mid 
 night. The chamber in which he slept, was at 
 some distance from the sleeping apartments of 
 the family ; and notwithstanding his usually dar 
 ing disposition, he found it impossible to suppress 
 a strong sensation of fear, as he found himself 
 thus singularly awakened without any visible 
 cause, and gazing earnestly around the apartment. 
 It was no human visitant that excited his appre 
 hensions. 
 
 The mind of the youth had become tinctured 
 
THE REGICIDES. 49 
 
 \\ith the prevailing superstition, and though he 
 gave not actual credence to all the fearful ru 
 mors to which he listened, there was something 
 in the very character of the ideas they produced, 
 well suited to the peculiarities of his disposition; 
 there was enjoyment even in the awe and horror 
 they excited. It was, therefore, with a feeling 
 of trembling expectation, that he now surveyed 
 the objects of the room. It was small, and a 
 bright moonlight streamed through the thin cur 
 tain, as every object passed in quick review be 
 fore him, until his eye rested on a shadowy figure, 
 half concealed in the darkness. A low exclama 
 tion of terror burst from his lips. Visions of the 
 Lady of the Mist, flitted rapidly across his mind ; 
 and he buried his face in the bedclothes. 
 
 " Henry Davenport, is it you ?" said a low voice, 
 which he instantly recognized to be that of Mar 
 garet Weldon. " I pray your pardon for disturb 
 ing your repose. I had thought that this was 
 your sister s apartment/ 
 
 "And what would you of Mary at this late 
 hour?" replied Henry, who was now hastily re 
 volving in his mind the reports concerning her, 
 and his voice gathered energy ; " Margaret Wel 
 don, what would you ? " 
 
 " Speak lower, Henry, and I will tell you," 
 continued the same voice, and the boy felt a chill 
 at his heart, for her light footstep was now heard 
 approaching the bed. Unwilling, however, to 
 manifest any emotion, he slowly uncovered his 
 face and perceived the object of his terror, gently 
 parting away the curtains. 
 
 "Do not be alarmed, Henry, at this singular 
 visit; it was indeed intended for your sister, but 
 now I reflect upon it, I am sure you can keep the 
 
 5 
 
50 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 secret as well, and do my errand far better. 
 Henry will you promise not to betray the trust I 
 am about to repose in you ?" 
 
 " I will not betray you, Margaret, but," and 
 he paused, as if unwilling to express his mean 
 ing. 
 
 "I understand you, Henry," continued Marga 
 ret, " you do not desire my confidence ; but surely 
 you are not the foolish and timid boy to fear one 
 like me. I know indeed all that you have heard, 
 and was about to show my confidence in your 
 courage, by imposing upon you the very task 
 which alone has procured for me this fearful sus 
 picion." There was something in this declara 
 tion which kindled at once the proud spirit of the 
 youth. 
 
 " What is it, Margaret? If there is nothing 
 but danger in the errand, I will not hesitate." 
 
 "Then take this, Henry," resumed the young 
 lady, after a moment s silence, in slow impressive 
 tones, and pointing as she spoke to a small wicker 
 basket which she held in her hand, " and when 
 the first ray of morning appears, carry it for me 
 to the haunted rock. Nay, Henry, do not be thus 
 daunted with a name. I believe you a daring 
 and fearless boy, or I had never trusted you with 
 the embassy. There is a large and moss grown 
 stone which lies half way up the acclivity you 
 know it these foolish stories have made it but 
 too famous. Well, it is there, Henry, that you 
 must deposit your burthen ; and whatever you 
 find on that stone bring back to me. And yet, it 
 would not be well," she added, after a moment s 
 pause, " that we should seem to communicate. 
 No, Henry, you may place it on the bench in the 
 garden, and every morning, that is, so long as you 
 
THE REGICIDES. 51 
 
 will perform this embarrassing task, the basket 
 shall wait for you there." 
 
 "And why?" exclaimed the youth, who could 
 not yet banish from his mind the suspicion of su 
 pernatural agency. " Margaret, for whom shall 
 I do all this?" 
 
 " For me for my sake, Henry, I intreat you, 
 do not refuse me. I have pledged myself to per 
 form this task, and in spite of danger and suspi 
 cion have long done it but a circumstance has 
 no\v occurred which will render it for a few days, 
 at least, improper, nay, impossible." 
 
 " And whom shall I see," continued Henry, not 
 at all reassured by the mysterious language of the 
 young lady. 
 
 " No one that will harm you, Henry the only 
 danger is in discovery. Curious eyes may watch 
 your steps. But you must leave the village by a 
 circuitous path, and do all that you can to elude 
 suspicion. Henry, I must go. Will you do this 
 errand ?" 
 
 "7 will" replied the youth, in a voice which 
 seemed as though his whole soul had been sum 
 moned for the effort. " Margaret Welclon, I will 
 do your bidding but remember if you are 
 wiling me away to some dark and unhol ; deed, 
 let the sin and the scathe r<j*t on you." 
 U A smile flitted over the features of the fair visi 
 tant, as, with all the energy of a desperate pur 
 pose, he pronounced the reply ; and then turning 
 with a light and noiseless step, she left the apart 
 ment. 
 
 But it is not to be supposed that Henry, at once 
 relapsed into that comfortable slumber which her 
 entrance had disturbed. A succession of fearful 
 reflections crowded rapidly upon his mind. The 
 
52 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 light trains of association were all kindled. Every 
 faint dream, or half remembered apprehension of 
 evil, every supernatural legend, or wild tale of 
 witch or apparition, from the long forgotten song 
 of the nursery, to the recent reports concerning 
 the Lady of the Mist, all seemed embodied, and 
 in living array, before him. He feared, and fan 
 cied, and reasoned, until his brain grew sick with 
 thought, and every moment the cold and dewy 
 hand of the pale lady seemed ready to press his 
 brow. "I will go to my father," he at length ex 
 claimed, rising nastily from his pillow, and unable 
 longer to endure his emotion. " It may not be 
 too late to retract this dreadful promise," but 
 the fear of ridicule at once arrested his purpose. 
 The moon was shining clear and bright through 
 his chamber, every object wore its wonted ap 
 pearance, and though his eye passed carefully 
 over every crevice and corner, no sights of horror 
 presented themselves. His head sunk again on 
 his pillow, and, wearied and exhausted, he soo-n 
 fell into a disturbed slumber. 
 
 The fearful visit of Margaret Weldon was now 
 repeated, with all the aggravated horrors an ex 
 cited imagination could furnish ; but instead 
 of Margaret, the pale lady stood beside him, 
 her cold, ghastly countenance peering in 
 through the folds of his curtains, and command 
 ing him to follow. A resistless influence seemed 
 to compel his obedience, and while yet struggling 
 with its power, he awoke. 
 
 A faint streak in the east convinced him that it 
 was the break of day, and he hastily recalled to 
 his mind the events of the past night. But the 
 dominion of darkness was now over, and though 
 there mingled some slight apprehensions of evil 
 
THE REGICIDES. 53 
 
 with the proud consciousness of the trust reposed 
 in him, he prepared, without a moment s hesita 
 tion, to fulfil his promise. 
 
 Perfect stillness reigned throughout the village, 
 as he threw open the door of his father s dwelling. 
 His eye glanced instinctively across the way, up 
 on the quiet and beautiful little dwelling of Mrs. 
 Wihnot. For a moment he fancied he saw at one 
 of the upper windows the outline of a female 
 figure, but the fog which was rolling over the vil 
 lage prevented any minute observations. He was 
 anxious also to avoid the scrutiny of any curious 
 spectators; and springing over a low hedge that 
 obstructed his way, he moved slowly across a 
 smooth meadow. The grass was loaded with a 
 thick vapor, and the sweet breath of the young 
 clover perfumed the air, as with a light and has 
 ty tread, the boy moved onward, brushing for 
 himself a path amid the wilderness of gems, and 
 crushing at every step the beauty of some bright 
 blossom. Now and then his eye turned anxiously 
 upon the little village he was leaving. 
 
 The prospect was not the same which the same 
 situation might at the present day command- 
 nay you might now look in vain for the flowery 
 meadow itself the squares of the city have long 
 since spoiled its loveliness. The jail, the church, 
 and the school-house, now constituted the orna 
 ments of the public green ; and these, with a few 
 scattered clusters of houses were all that then 
 appeared as the germ of that beautiful city which 
 now yields its shade to thousands. Nevertheless 
 there was in the uniformly neat appearance of 
 these dwellings, a slight development of the same 
 principle which at the present day renders New- 
 Haven an object of admiration. The small green 
 5* 
 
54 THE REGICIDES, 
 
 enclosures in front of each, surrounded with white 
 palings and filled with clustering roses, the luxu 
 riant woodbine and honeysuckle, that here and 
 there shadowed the windows with their rich cur 
 taining, together with the shaded gravel walks 
 running in various directions through the village,, 
 all suificiently evidenced that the power of ap 
 preciating the beautiful, had not been banished 
 from the homes of the Puritans. 
 
 But the mind of Henry Davenport was occu 
 pied with far more interesting reflections than 
 these, as, after a circuitous route, he at length 
 found himself beyond sight of the village, and 
 rapidly pursuing his way to the haunted rock. 
 He was about to prove the truth or falsity of that 
 strange tale, which had so long agitated the vil 
 lage, and his young heart throbbed rapidly as he 
 descried the object of his destination, towering 
 bold and high through the dense atmosphere that 
 surrounded it. The pale moonlight, meanwhile, 
 had quite faded in the beams of morning; and as 
 he drew near the foot of the rock, the broad rays of 
 the level sun darted full upon it, struggling through 
 the floating masses of vapor, and kindling the 
 whole mountain with a living radiance. 
 
 Here our young hero paused, not merely for the 
 sake of the momentary rest, which the protracted 
 walk might certainly have excused, but for the 
 purpose of rally ing his mental forces for the expect 
 ed encounter. He was now at a distance from the 
 habitations of men, and a few dim specks around 
 the distant spire was all that indicated the loca 
 tion of the village. The chirping note of here 
 and there a solitary bird, came swelling from the 
 woods, and seemed only to increase the sense of 
 his loneliness, while the recollection of the spirit 
 
THE REGICIDES. 53 
 
 whose precincts he was about to invade, rushed 
 painfully to his mind. His eye glanced at the 
 same moment upon his mysterious burthen what 
 fearful spells might it not contain, what magic in 
 fluence might it not exert upon its bearer ; and 
 he gazed and fancied, until Pandora s box itself 
 would scarce have seemed a more dreadful load ; 
 and withal, as he recalled the conversation of the 
 preceding night, he distinctly remembered thnt 
 Margaret had failed to assure him that he should 
 not behold the object of his terror. 
 
 But at last with an impulse of the same high 
 spirit which had first induced him to accept the 
 embassy, he clasped his ill-omened burthen, and 
 began manfully to scramble up the rock. We 
 must confess, however, that his glances towards 
 the summit were " few and far between," it was 
 enough for him that he descried in the distance 
 the projecting table like stone on which he was 
 to deposit his load, and he cared not to penetrate 
 too curiously into the secrets of the dense fog 
 which still wrapped the height above. He was 
 now within a short distance of the stone, when 
 directing his eye for a moment upwards it be 
 came suddenly fixed by a fascination as strong 
 and dreadful as that which the serpent throws 
 over its victim. Was it the vision of a distem 
 pered fancy, or a reality ? Be this as it might, 
 he now surely discovered, descending from the 
 cliff above, what seemed the faint outline of a 
 human figure. Slowly and gradually, it became 
 more distinct and Henry ere long recognized the 
 white robe, the pale and beautiful features of the 
 lady of the mist. He would have turned and fled 
 for life, but no human help was nigh he was alone 
 on the great rock, and he felt that it would be 
 
56 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 vain to seek with mortal steps to escape the 
 grasp of the spirit. So he moved on with a kind 
 of desperate energy, his eye still fixed on the ad 
 vancing form of the lady. They were now with 
 in a few yards of each other, and seemed about 
 to meet just at the haunted stone. 
 
 At that instant the mysterious stranger paused, 
 her bright and beautiful eyes rested on him for a 
 moment, and, had all the charms and spells he 
 had dreaded, been concentrated in that one 
 glance, the change produced on his feelings 
 could not have been more instantaneous. Fears 
 and doubts were all forgotten in an emotion of 
 unmingled surprise. There was something in his 
 innermost heart, which told him at once that 
 that soft glance, that look of inexpressible sweet 
 ness, he had often met ere now, where or how 
 he knew not, whether in dreams or visions, but 
 the expression was as familiar as his own name. 
 
 After regarding him for a moment, the lady 
 turned slowly about, and by the path she had 
 descended, began to mount the acclivity. Henry 
 darted forward to the stone. A basket like the 
 one he bore, already occupied it. The exchange 
 was quickly made; and turning his way down 
 ward he soon found himself standing safe at the 
 foot of the haunted rock. 
 
 When Henry Davenport, after depositing the 
 basket in the appointed place, arrived again at 
 his father s dwelling, he learned that the whole 
 village had been thrown into a state of strong 
 excitement, by the reappearance of the identical 
 travellers whose adventures have hitherto claimed 
 so large a share of our attention. It was rumor 
 ed that they had arrived the evening previous, 
 having pushed their journey only as far south as 
 
THE REGICIDES. 57 
 
 the Dutch colony at Manhattan, and were now 
 prepared to institute a more thorough search, 
 being convinced that the objects of their pursuit 
 were yet concealed in the colony of New-Haven. 
 
 Early that day, the Rev. Mr. Davenport found 
 himself favored with a second visit from his Ma 
 jesty s commissioners, Messrs Kirk and Kellond. 
 During their interview, the amiable family, of the 
 clergymen, were grieved to perceive that inter 
 course with their southern neighbors, had by no 
 means improved the manners of their guests ; 
 and though the good minister himself manifested 
 all possible forbearance, the conversation at last 
 ended with bitter and taunting words on the part 
 of the strangers. They were however assured 
 that the answer given them on the occasion of 
 their former visit, must be considered d( cisive 
 no assistance could be furnished them by the 
 magistrates of the colony, though all authorized 
 commissioners were of course allowed full liberty 
 of searching their dwellings. They were inform 
 ed, however, that if the judges had, as they as 
 serted, secreted themselves in the colony, they 
 were bound to exercise their own wits according 
 to the tenor of their directions, in ascertaining the 
 place of concealment. 
 
 The ensuing day it was ascertained that the 
 commissioners had taken lodgings for a fortnight 
 at the village inn. And from that place daily ir 
 ruptions were made, into various parts of the 
 town and its vicinity, much to the annoyance of 
 the worthy inhabitants. 
 
 Meanwhile Henry Davenport continued his 
 visits to the seat of the mountain spirit : and eve 
 ry morning with increasing fortitude encountered 
 the fearful vision of the white robed lady. After 
 
58 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 the first morning, however, she had never ap 
 proached so near as before, standing at such a 
 distance, while he deposited his burthen, that 
 the dim outline of her figure alone was discerni 
 ble. But as he became familiar with the sight, 
 and every morning found himself returning from 
 his ramble alive and unharmed, curiosity began 
 to obtain the ascendancy over his fears, and he 
 cherished an irresistible desire to learn something 
 more concerning the lady of the mist. A circum 
 stance soon occurred which gave a kroner edge 
 to this feeling, removing, at the same time, all 
 his most painful conjectures. 
 
 It was the fourth evening after his singular in 
 terview with Miss Weldon, that Henry Davenport 
 was dispatched to Mrs. Wilmot, as the bearer 
 of u letter which had that day been received 
 from Boston, inclosed in a pacquet to his father. 
 He paused a moment at the gate. A rich flow 
 of music came swelling from the open window 
 of the little parlor ; there was a mingling of sweet 
 voices within, and Henry lingered awhile at the 
 door, unnoticed, and unwilling to disturb the sa 
 cred melody of their evening hymn. 
 
 Mrs. Wilmot was seated opposite the door, and 
 Miss Weldon beside her, while the lovely little 
 Alice reclined at her feet, leaning her fair young 
 head with all its beautiful and clustering curls, 
 upon her sister and a vivid beam of moonlight 
 from the window played full upon her counte 
 nance. There was a pallid cast to her usually 
 blooming features, and with an emotion too 
 powerful for description, Henry at that moment 
 discovered a close and striking resemblance to 
 the strange face that gazed on him so fearfully, 
 through the mist of the haunted rock. The fore- 
 
THE REGICIDES. 59 
 
 head, the lip, the soft melancholy expression 
 which had seemed so strangely familiar in the 
 Lady of the Mist, were all in a moment recognized. 
 The agitation of this discovery, had absorbed 
 every faculty of the astonished youth, and when 
 at length amid a pause of the deep melody, the 
 eyes of the interesting group were directed to 
 wards him, his confusion and embarrassment 
 were but too evident. 
 
 " I have a letter for Margaret," he at length ar 
 ticulated, suddenly recollecting his errand as he 
 advanced to the sofa. 
 
 " And whence comes it," said Mrs. Wilmot, 
 as the young lady seized it with avidity, and, 
 breaking the seal, glanced her eye hastily over its 
 contents. 
 
 " From Boston," replied Miss Weldon in a low 
 voice, her eye falling again instantly on the un 
 read page ; and, notwithstanding his emotion, 
 Henry could not but perceive, that the tidings of 
 which he had been the unconcious bearer were 
 of a peculiarly interesting nature. The cheek of 
 the young lady became flushed, as she perused 
 the letter, and her countenance exhibited marks 
 of strong emotion, whether of joy or sorrow he 
 knew not. Indeed he was now completely oc 
 cupied with a plan he had formed since his en 
 trance, and as soon as the affability of Mrs. Wil 
 mot would permit, he hastened home to ma 
 ture his projects. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 WHEN Henry Davenport, the next morning, 
 again set out on his excursion, it was with a set 
 tled determination, at all hazards, to pierce the 
 singular mystery which enveloped his intercourse 
 with the Lady of the Mist. 
 
 This resolution was not lightly adopted. He 
 had passed hours of the night in revolving within 
 himself its expediency, and had at length conclu 
 ded, that whether she vanished in thin air, or float 
 ed away on the morning mist, or dropped from his 
 sight amid the depths of the mountain, he would 
 surely know from whence she came. For this pur 
 pose, he had arisen half an hour earlier than the 
 usual time. At first a clear starlight was all that 
 illumined his path ; and when at length he stood 
 at the foot of the rock, the morning only glim 
 mered in the east. 
 
 Full of his determination, after placing the 
 basket upon the stone he stretched himself 
 quietly beside it and directing his eyes above, 
 began, as well as the darkness would permit, to 
 watch the approach of the mountain lady. The 
 beams of the morning were rapidly gathering on 
 the cliff, when the boy at length discovered what 
 seemed a human form, winding around the re 
 mote extremity of the rock, and he was not long 
 in identifying it with the object of his curiosity. 
 
THE REGICIDES. 61 
 
 A projecting ledge formed the path by which she 
 approached ; and Henry shuddered as he beheld 
 her gliding lightly over the dizzy height, appa 
 rently without fear or impediment. 
 
 " Ah, she pauses not for cliff or break the thin 
 air is firm enough for that light form mortal be 
 ings tread not with such a step" he muttered, as 
 the object of his gaze drew nearer. He waited 
 only to be well convinced that the form he now 
 descried was indeed what he had imagined, and 
 then, turning hastily about, and following a path 
 parallel to the one she trod, proceeded as swiftly 
 as the nature of the footing would allow, in the 
 very direction from which she had just advanced. 
 It was only by clinging to the shrubs which grew 
 in the clefts of the stony surface, that he was en 
 abled to maintain his ground. Now and then, 
 lie paused to recover breath, casting too, occa 
 sionally, a longing glance at the little village 
 whose blue smokes were just beginning to curl in 
 the atmosphere. After persevering Tor some time 
 in this fatiguing exercise, he paused a moment to 
 watch for the reappearance of the mysterious 
 stranger. He waited not long in vain. The light 
 form he had so often descried in the distance, in 
 a few minutes more, again became visible, tread 
 ing with the same fearless rapidity along her airy 
 path. He gazed as for life still she moved on 
 ward and his aching eye followed her with perse 
 vering earnestness. 
 
 At length near a formless pile of huge and rug 
 ged rocks that seemed as if thrown together by 
 some primeval convulsion of nature, she paused 
 and as she turned full around, Henry perceived 
 that she bore in her hand the basket he had so 
 recently deposited on the other side of the rock. 
 6 
 
62 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 At that moment, there appeared standing on the 
 cliff beside her, a dark and lofty figure, and the 
 next, the cliff and the nodding shrubs were k all that 
 remained. It was in vain that Henry wiped the 
 mist from his eyes, and gazed and gazed again 
 the objects they had before rested on were gone, 
 not a trace of them remained. 
 
 The spot from which they had thus mysteri 
 ously vanished, was at some distance above the 
 point where he stood ; and, with a determination 
 to examine it more closely, he began to climb 
 the sides of the rock by means of the strong 
 bushes which every where presented themselves. 
 As he continued to ascend, his eye still fixed 
 on the mysterious point where he had last be 
 held the lady and her companion, he sudden 
 ly perceived, to his inexpressible relief, a small 
 opening among the rocks, which the shadow 
 ing bushes had hitherto concealed. To be at 
 once relieved from the dreadful certainty that 
 the being with whom he had been thus inti 
 mately connected, was only a supernatural illu 
 sion, certainly afforded a strong satisfaction to 
 his excited mind. The cave was sufficiently 
 large to contain human beings, and he doubted 
 not that those on whom his eyes had a few mo 
 ments before rested, were now concealed within 
 its walls. Here the youth paused to consider his 
 situation, and seating himself on a fragment of 
 rock, wiped away the heavy sweat which the fear 
 and toil had gathered on his young forehead. 
 
 Far below lay stretched in the distance, the 
 clear waters of the sound, a calm sea of liquid 
 brightness, rolling and glittering in the light of 
 morning, and winding far onward in its curved 
 shores of green, till it seemed in the long perspec- 
 
THE REGICIDES. 63 
 
 live a faint blue stream, and at last a fading speck 
 on the distant horizon ; while all before and 
 around lay abroad magnificent prospect of hill 
 and dale, pastures and meadows and waving wood 
 lands, all swelling in the rich luxuriance of June, 
 and glorious in the rising sunshine. The boy felt 
 his young heart revive, as the fre-h breeze came 
 up from below, kissing his brow and burning 
 cheek ; he could not believe that in the sight of 
 so much purity and loveliness, the unholy spirits 
 he feared would ever have chosen their residence ; 
 and he felt his courage renewed and his heart 
 strengthened to continue the pursuit. 
 
 But the promise of secresy which Margaret had 
 extorted from him, was not to be violated ; and 
 though he cast many a wishful glance upon the 
 entrance of the cavern, the recollection of the 
 time which must have elapsed since he left the 
 village, at once checked his purpose. To attempt 
 any further investigation on the present occasion, 
 might draw upon him many curious inquiries, and 
 perhaps discover the secret of his morning ram 
 bles. At that moment the sound of the distant 
 bell came faintly through the distance, and though 
 broken and scattered by the woods and rocks 
 which intervened, he soon ascertained that it was 
 tolling the hour of seven. Without further hesi 
 tation, therefore he descended from the rock, and 
 proceeded with all speed on the road to the vil 
 lage. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 DURING all the avocations of the ensuing day, 
 the strange cavern of the rock occupied a pre 
 eminent place in the mind of Henry Davenport. 
 Whether he wrote, or played, or studied, whether 
 his eye rested on the solemn visage of the peda 
 gogue, or the laughing faces of his school fellows, 
 or the beloved and familiar countenances of his 
 own household, one single absorbing idea filled 
 his mind. It was the cave the high lone cave 
 of the haunted rock, which excluded every other 
 object from the vision of his " mind s eye." 
 
 A singular report, which though at first faint 
 ly whispered, was now every where gathering 
 strength in its march through the village, at 
 length arrested his attention. It was rumored 
 that the Rev. Samuel Russel had been recently 
 chosen the pastor of a small church, in a beauti 
 ful village of the Massachusetts Colony, and that, 
 on the ensuing Thursday, Margaret Weldon 
 would accompany him thither as his bride. 
 But the strong interest which this communica 
 tion at first excited, was soon forgotten in the 
 higher interest of his intended excursion to the 
 mountain. 
 
 The sun was about an hour above the horizon, 
 and its clear light was playing full upon the wes 
 tern side of the rock, when Henry again found 
 
THE REGICIDES. 05 
 
 himself within sight of the entrance to the cave. 
 It is not to be supposed that his love for the wild 
 and romantic, had as yet entirely subdued the awe 
 which his possible vicinity to the dwelling of 
 some unearthly being was calculated to excite, 
 indeed, as he drew nearer the spot, his move 
 ments became every moment slower, and he often 
 paused hesitating and afraid to proceed. One 
 effort more, and he would stand before the cave. 
 He looked for a moment downward. The idea 
 of being hurled from that dizzy height, as the 
 punishment of his temerity, rushed suddenly and 
 painfully to his mind. But it was too late to re 
 treat, and the next moment found him at the en 
 trance of the cave, gazing fearfully within. 
 
 Notwithstanding the strong yellow sunlight that 
 now beamed through the opening, the room with 
 in was only in part illuminated. The walls of 
 the cave, were here and there hollowed into 
 deep recesses which partially excluded its beams. 
 Various articles of rude furniture presented them 
 selves, but the eye of Henry, unattracted by 
 these, wandered onward to a low moss couch, 
 resting at last with eager curiosity upon the 
 figure of a venerable stranger wrapped in a, mili 
 tary cloak and reposing quietly upon it. He 
 was asleep, and as Henry soon ascertained, the 
 only occupant of this rude apartment: The self 
 same basket which Henry had so often trans 
 ported to the rock, stood on a small table be 
 side him, and near it a cup containing a few deli 
 cate wild flowers. He gazed, for a moment ear 
 nestly around him, and then with a slow and 
 noiseless tread approached the couch of the mys 
 terious sleeper. 
 
 His face was uncovered, and a feeling of deep 
 6* 
 
66 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 awe stole over the ardent spirit of the youth, as 
 he gazed on the chastened sorrowful expression 
 of that noble countenance. Age and sorrow had 
 marked his forehead with wrinkles, and silvered 
 the few thin locks which lay on his temples, and 
 yet, in every line of those high features, there 
 gleamed a dignity, a grandeur of soul, which 
 Henry had often dreamed of in his high-wrought 
 fancies of Grecian and Roman heroes and of He 
 brew kings and warriors, but which, till this mo 
 ment, he had never witnessed. 
 
 A sound like that of approaching footsteps 
 among the loose stones of the rock at length 
 aroused him from his reverie. Henry gazed fear 
 fully around him ; there was no retreat. A wide 
 plank which had evidently been used for the pur 
 pose of guarding the entrance, now reclined in 
 a sloping direction against the wall. It was the 
 only possible concealment ; and he had glided 
 behind it, just as a tall and dark shadow fell on 
 the floor of the cave. The next moment, a state 
 ly step echoed within, and Henry ere long ven 
 tured to look from his concealment. Another 
 stranger, comparatively young, of lofty mien and 
 countenance, had entered this strange dwelling. 
 His head bent thoughtfully down, and there was 
 something in the restless flashing of his eye, 
 which conveyed the idea of perplexity and 
 trouble. 
 
 The sleeping stranger was soon aroused, and, 
 rising from his couch, he slowly approached the 
 entrance of the cave. 
 
 " The sun is almost down," he said, turning 
 anxi usly to his companion. " Saw you nothing 
 of h r?" 
 
 " othing, sir," replied the other in a melan- 
 chol ne. "That I have waited for her com- 
 
THE REGICIDES. 67 
 
 ing, is enough of itself to prevent it. There is a 
 blight on all my hopes and wishes, on the very 
 lightest of them ; and there was thai in the look 
 and tone of the speaker, which showed that those 
 bitter words were wrung from the innermost 
 depths of a wounded spirit. 
 
 At that moment, the clear and silvery tones of 
 the old man, fell on the ear of Henry, and he per 
 ceived that he had seated himself by the table 
 with an open book before him. His voice was 
 singularly melodious, and the effect of the holy 
 and beautiful words, thus solemnly repeated, was 
 striking, and intensely interesting. 
 
 " These are they which came out of great 
 tribulation, and have washed their robes, and 
 made them white in the blood of the Lamb. 
 Therefore are they before the throne of God and 
 serve him day and night in his temple. And he 
 that sitteth on the throne shall dwell among them. 
 They shall hunger no more; neither thirst any 
 more ; neither shall the sun light on them, nor 
 any heat. For the Lamb which is in the midst 
 of the throne, shall feed them, and lead them to 
 living fountains of water ; and God shall wipe 
 away all tears from their eyes." 
 
 He closed the book and there was a momen 
 tary silence, interrupted only by the continued 
 tread of the other. " Few indeed, my son," con 
 tinued the old man, " few and evil are the days 
 of our pilgrimage on earth ; but let us not waste 
 these blessed trials, in bitter and vain repinings. 
 Rather praise Him, William, that he hath counted 
 us worthy to suffer for his name s sake. I know, 
 my son, that proud and restless spirit of thine, 
 will sometimes mount in spite of thy better reas 
 on ; but oh ! let it not rise in murmurs against 
 the Lord that begot thee." 
 
68 THE REGfClDES. 
 
 " Heaven will forgive my crime," exclaimed 
 the other, impatiently, " there is a boundary to 
 mortal endurance; and I am weary nay I am 
 sick very soul sick of hopes and exertions. 
 My father, life may be dear to you to me it is 
 a weariness. I will give up the desperate strug 
 gle, and go forth and die the death which heaven 
 hath doomed me." 
 
 "$j" And how hath it been doomed to you? My 
 son, your soul is blinded with a vain and foolish 
 sophistry. Because the edict of His weak and 
 foolish prince, hath said that we shall die, hath 
 Heaven doomed our death ? And would you give 
 up life, and the service of God on earth, because it 
 is a weariness? Would you give up the conflict, 
 because your soul is sick ? No, my son, God hath 
 not yet summoned us to our long rest we have 
 not yet overcome, that we should be set as pil 
 lars in the temple above. Patience hath not yet 
 had its perfect work, and long years of sorrow and 
 pain, may yet be in our path to heaven." 
 
 " But you do not consider, sir," rejoined the 
 other, " that we are perhaps drawing upon this 
 colony a cup of wrath, which the offering of our 
 blood might avert. Shall we look tamely on, 
 and behold the wild beast out of the word de 
 stroying a vine of the Lord s own planting, for 
 the sake of the inglorious shelter it might yield 
 us? Heaven forbid." 
 
 " But are you not wrong?" continued the elder. 
 "The magistrates of the colony have refused to 
 furnish any concealment ; and the kindness of a 
 private individual, even if discovered, would never 
 bring ruin upon this people. And, William," he 
 went on in a lower voice, while his tone trembled 
 slightly, " would you leave your wife a widow, 
 
THE REGICIDES. GO 
 
 and your offspring fatherless, because you dared 
 not endure the suffering that joyfully and un- 
 murmuringly she has shared with you ?" 
 
 A low groan was the only reply. " William," 
 continued the old man burying his face in his 
 hands, "can you look on our noble hearted Is 
 abella, and say that life is a weariness? Would 
 you leave her alone in her sorrows, with none 
 to sooth her amid the blight that has darkened 
 all her young dreams ; when she hath soothed 
 and loved us so tenderly, and followed us into 
 exile, drinking unmurmuringly of every bitter 
 cup which we have tasted, following us into the 
 dens and caves of the earth, that she might 
 brighten them with her smiles, and varying the 
 darkness of our destiny with an affection as in 
 tense and devoted, nay a thousand times more so, 
 than any thing we ever dreamed of in the day 
 of our affluence. William, is there nothing in 
 love like this, to make life worth living for ; or 
 is it because I am a doting father, that the sight 
 fo such devotedness doth seem to breath around 
 this faded earth a kind of living fragrance ?" 
 
 " Make me not mad with my sufferings," re 
 plied the other. " 1 tell you my heart strings 
 are ready to burst, you must not touch them wan 
 tonly. My father, if I had never loved our Isa 
 bella, or even if had loved her only with such 
 love as yours, I would endure all suffering cheer 
 fully and joyfully to the end, if so I could in any 
 way soothe or comfort her. But to behold the 
 noble being that I wooed and won amid halls of 
 wealth wasting, and watching, and toiling away 
 her bright existence ; and every day to behold 
 another and another shade fading from her cheek, 
 and every hour that light and beautiful form ri- 
 
70 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 pening for the tomb and all for me I She 
 might have been living in some fair home in her 
 native land with as fresh a bloom as when I gath 
 ered her to adorn my own dark destiny. If she 
 would but weep and mourn over her altered 
 fate, I would nerve my soul and bear it but 
 she smiles, and smiles on, when I know her heart 
 is bursting. O I would rather die a thousand 
 deaths, than see her thus blighted and withering, 
 because I have loved her," in spite of his manli 
 ness the cheek of the noble stranger was wet with 
 tears. 
 
 A light step was heard without the cavern and 
 Henry Davenport felt his heart throbbing so vio 
 lently he almost feared it would discover his pres 
 ence, as a slender female figure glided by the 
 place of his concealment. A dark bonnet and 
 mantle at first prevented his anxious gaze but 
 these were soon thrown off arid Henry at once 
 beheld without doubt or disguise, the pale white 
 robed lady of the mist the wife and daughter of 
 the exiled regicides the good, noble, the beauti 
 ful Isabella Goffe. 
 
 The sun was just setting as she entered the 
 cave, and its deep glow threw a kind of mellow 
 tint around the forward features of the lady, so 
 that a faint bloom lingered on the cheek that had 
 seemed so fearfully pale amid the mists of the 
 morning. She bore in her hand a boquet of wild 
 blossoms as with a light and languid tread she 
 advanced towards the bench on which the elder 
 of the strangers reclined. 
 
 " Isabella, my daughter you have been absent 
 long," exclaimed the old man, as she reclined 
 herself on the stone and threw her arm kindly 
 around him. " Hath any evil befallen you, my 
 
THE REGICIDES. 71 
 
 daughter," he continued looking earnestly and 
 sorrowfully on her countenance. 
 
 " I have seen," replied the lady, in a voice 
 whose clear and sweet tones sent a sudden thrill 
 through the heart of Henry, " I have seen tho 
 cruel and blood-thirsty men who watch our steps, 
 and heard them declare that they would search 
 every wood and rock and cave ere they gave up 
 the pursuit. This rude dwelling will not long 
 be ours. We must seek some other home if we 
 would not perish." 
 
 " And where," rejoined he whom Henry now 
 know to be Goffe, " if the dens and caves of the 
 mountain are not ours, where on earth have we 
 a dwelling place ? My father, my lovely Isabella," 
 he added, slowly approaching, and seating him 
 self beside them, " the time has surely come for 
 us to die, aud why should we any longer resist 
 the will of Heaven. Let us go boldly forth, and 
 yield up this load of bitterness." There was a 
 short and breathless silence. 
 
 " My son," replied the old man, " I have read 
 of a higher and better being than ourselves, who 
 once had not where to lay his head. It is enough 
 for the disciple that he be as his master and the 
 servant as his Lord." 
 
 "William, dear William," repeated the lady, 
 as she parted the dark locks away from his high 
 pale brow, and gazed wistfully on his features, 
 " do not grieve so bitterly. In our father s house 
 there are many mansions, and I doubt not that we 
 shall ere long share their blessedness. I know," 
 she added in gentle and soothing tones, " that 
 your lot has been a bitter one. I will not speak 
 of mine. It would have been happy, happy be 
 yond all comparison, could I have soothed the 
 
72 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 anguish of yours, or lightened one sorrow from 
 my father s heart. But one effort more remains 
 for me. And yet," she added, her eye glancing 
 for a moment around the cave, " it is a bitter 
 thing to leave you thus amid perils and death." 
 
 "What mean you, Isabella?" exclaimed the 
 old man, while the husband gazed earnestly up 
 on her. " Would you take away the only earthly 
 joy that Heaven has left us ? Isabella, did I hear 
 you aright ?" 
 
 " Yes, father, I must leave you, I am going 
 over the waters back to my native land. I will 
 no longer waste my days in vain repinings while 
 a chance of happiness remains untried. The 
 king s heart is in the hand of the Lord ; and he 
 can turn it as the nvers of water are turned. I 
 will kneel at the foot of his throne, and weary 
 him with tears and prayers till he grants me your 
 pardon. Nay, William, do not urge me. I have 
 made my resolution, and must and will fulfil it. 
 Two days from this, I sail for England. Heaven 
 grant, that if I see your faces again on earth, it 
 may be in peace." Her voice trembled, she 
 paused, and leaned her pale cheek upon his 
 shoulder, while audible sobs interrupted the 
 stillness. 
 
 Meanwhile Henry Davenport had listened in 
 painful suspense to this singular conversation, 
 dreading every moment lest some wandering 
 glance should detect the place of his conceal 
 ment. As he saw that the sunset glow was fast 
 fading from the cavern, he trembled lest his con 
 tinued absence should excite the alarm of tho 
 family, and thus discover the retreat of the exiles. 
 The present moment seemed the most favorable 
 for effecting an unnoticed retreat; for the in- 
 
THE REGICIDES. 73 
 
 mates of the cave were, evidently, completely 
 absorbed in their own bitter emotions. There 
 was only a step from his concealment, to the en 
 trance ; and with a suppressed breath the boy at 
 length stole out unregarded, joyfully remember 
 ing, as he glanced once more upon the clear 
 heaven, that instead of ministering to the spirits 
 of evil, he had unconsciously relieved the wants 
 of those devoted exiles. 
 
 Animated with this idea, he was the next morn 
 ing setting out on his accustomed errand, when 
 he perceived with surprise two gentlemen, arm 
 in arm, coming hastily down the street. This sur 
 prise, was exchanged for strong apprehension, 
 when, as they drew nearer, he recognized the 
 forms of the well known and hated commissioners. 
 
 " And where now so early, my little fellow ?" 
 said Kellond, pausing before the gate. " The 
 ghosts and goblins must still be all awake, and 
 how dare you venture without bible and psalm 
 book?" 
 
 "Let me beg you, sir, not to concern yourself 
 on my account," replied the youth, whose exci 
 ted feelings led him strongly to resent the un 
 ceremonious address, "I have only set out for a 
 little ramble, and do not know that I am in any 
 particular need of your sympathy." 
 
 "You are going for a little ramble, are you ? 
 and so are we. Perhaps we may as well proceed 
 together. Hark ee my boy," continued Mr. Kel 
 lond bending his eyes earnestly on his features, 
 " Dids t ever hear of the Lady of the Mist, a ca 
 pricious and handsome little spirit who seems to 
 have taken up her residence on one of these moun 
 tains hereabouts. Did st ever hear of her?" 
 
 The boy felt the rapidly changing hues of his 
 7 
 
74 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 countenance, but he looked boldly in their faces, 
 " hear of her !" he replied in a tone of surprise, 
 "aye, who has not heard of the pale Lady of the 
 Mist?" 
 
 " And thou hast seen her too, mayhap," re 
 joined Mr. Kirk, directing upon him a keen and 
 searching glance. " Will you please, young 
 gentleman, let me examine that little basket of 
 yours?" 
 
 " The basket is not mine," replied Henry, in 
 dignantly, " and if it were, sir, I assure you I 
 should allow no one to meddle with it. Have 
 you any commands, gentlemen," he added, essay 
 ing to open the gate on which they leaned. 
 
 " Why touching this same pale spirit," said 
 Mr. Kellond, " whose very name doth turn thy 
 young cheek so white, my friend here, and my 
 self, have a particular desire to take a peep at 
 her ere we leave the village. Could you guide 
 us to her residence." 
 
 " And would you brave the fury of the enemy, 
 for the sake of your curiosity?" replied the boy 
 in atone of strong remonstrance. "If you would, 
 sir, indeed I dare not go with you." 
 
 " Look here, my lad," said the other, holding 
 up before him a silver coin, " we must see this 
 mountain lady, and if you will guide us, this shall 
 be yours." 
 
 The boy seemed to hesitate and looked ear 
 nestly around him. " Do you assure me ?" he 
 at length replied, with a strong effort, " shall the 
 money surely be mine, if I will guide you to the 
 haunted rock ?" 
 
 " My word of honor for it, it shall surely be 
 yours. Only show us the pale lady." 
 
 " Then wait a moment for me," replied the 
 
THE REGICIDES. 7") 
 
 youth, with an appearance of agitation, " I must 
 carry this basket to its owner Miss Margaret Wei- 
 don and will return to you presently. So say 
 ing he darted across the way, and began to knock 
 impatiently at the door of Mrs. Wilmot s dwell 
 ing. Ere long it was gently opened, and Marga 
 ret herself stood behind it. 
 
 u Come in what would you, Henry?" she in 
 quired with an air oi deep emotion, and she hastily 
 closed the door. " Tell me, I beseech you, Hen 
 ry, what do yonder g- ntlemen desire of you ?" 
 
 " That I would guide them to the dwelling 
 of the pale lady, of whom they have heard so 
 much ; and believe me, Margaret, they suspect 
 the truth. They are waiting for me what shall 
 I do?" 
 
 Without inquiring concerning the manner in 
 which he had made himself acquainted with the 
 secret of the cave, she now stood for a moment 
 absorbed in silent and intense thought. "Hen 
 ry, are you sure" she at length said, " that they 
 are ignorant of the locality of the haunted rock r" 
 
 " If I may judge from their inquiries, they 
 know nothing about it." 
 
 " Then hear me, and remember that the lives 
 of great and good men, depend on your actions. 
 You must lead these strangers astray. By the 
 most circuitous route you can take, guide them to 
 the East rock make all possible delays on the road 
 any thing to amuse them and gain time for their 
 victims. Conduct them to the remote side of the 
 rock, and thence around the whole." 
 
 " And when they at length discover that I have 
 deceived them," interrupted Henry. 
 
 " Fear them not they dare not harm you 
 only delay it as long as possible. Go Henry, they 
 
76 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 are waiting for you, but remember and detain 
 them." 
 
 " I will trust me, Margaret, I will," and set 
 ting down the basket, he darted forth to meet his 
 impatient companions. 
 
 Miss Weldon waited only until the forms of the 
 strangers and their young guide were no longer 
 visible, and then quickly arranging herself, she 
 hastened down the steps through the little yard, 
 and with a boldness which only the desperation 
 of the case would have prompted, she proceeded 
 by the most public path, directly across the vil 
 lage, towards the haunted rock. Fear lent 
 strange speed to her steps, and in less than an 
 hour from the time that Henry had first made his 
 appearance she was at the mouth of the cavern. 
 Isabella Goffe had discovered her approach, and 
 stood without, waiting to receive her." 
 
 "Your father, your husband, dear lady," ex 
 claimed Margaret leaning half breathless against 
 the entrance. 
 
 " And what evil awaits them, say it quickly, 
 Margaret, nay, be it what it may, I am prepared." 
 
 "Then I must tell you," continued the agita 
 ted girl, recovering breath and moving hastily 
 into the cave, "that the king s officers are at this 
 moment searching for you, and for this cave. 
 They have heard the reports concerning the La 
 dy of the Mist, and are not credulous enough to 
 believe them. If life is dear to you, you must fly 
 with all speed." 
 
 " And where are they now," said Isabella, with 
 a look of sudden calmness while her cheek be 
 came white as the fresh fallen snow, " Marga 
 ret, if they are already on the rock, it is too late 
 to fly." 
 
THE REGICIDES. 77 
 
 "No, no," replied the young lady, "Henry Da 
 venport has led them astray, and they are at this 
 moment searching the East rock, in the mistaken 
 idea that it contains this cave." 
 
 Isabella Goffe had meanwhile approached her 
 husband who still sat in a recess, his brow lean 
 ing thoughtfully on his hand, and manifesting an 
 appearance of perfect indifference, while Marga 
 ret pronounced her fearful intelligence. 
 
 " Do you hear her ?" said the lady, twining her 
 arm around him, and looking earnestly in his 
 countenance. 
 
 " Nay, Isabella," replied the outcast, shaking 
 his head and regarding her with a smile of sor 
 rowful affection, " it is vain to attempt it. None 
 dare to harbor us, and even if they did, it would 
 only serve to draw on them the fearful blight that 
 rests on me and mine." 
 
 " William," continued the lady solemnly, a 
 shade of agony darkening her features, " will 
 you perish without an effort ?" 
 
 " Efforts are vain, my precious Isabella. It is 
 the will of heaven that we should die ; and surely 
 it is a light thing for us who have no hopes here," 
 and he still leaned motionless against the rock. 
 
 "Now hear me, William Goffe," exclaimed the 
 lady, in clear and unfaultering tones, " if you love 
 me, if you have ever loved me ; nay if you have 
 not, by my own love for you, I beseech you cast 
 not madly away the life which God hath given 
 you," and a smile of intense intreaty wreathed the 
 lip of the suppliant. 
 
 "Any thing, my blessed Isabella," said her 
 husband, rising hastily up while his strong tones 
 trembled with emotion, "I will do and suffer 
 all things for your sake, even though it were to 
 
78 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 live ages of these bitter moments," and they now 
 approached the entrance of the cave. 
 
 Margaret Weldon was leaning against it, her 
 face deeply flushed : and the old man stood near 
 her. listening to her words. 
 
 " Do you hear, my son," exclaimed the latter 
 as they, approached, " do you see the path which 
 Providence has prepared for us. This kind young 
 lady offereth us a home an^f shelter so long as it 
 shall please Heaven to spare our existence." 
 
 " Where, and how ?" said the other in surprise. 
 
 " You shall hear it William, but there is no 
 time for explanation now. We must hasten our 
 retreat ere the pursuers discover their mistake. 
 Heaven reward you noble girl," he added placing 
 his hand on the head of Margaret, " for that in 
 the home of your happiness you have not forgot 
 ten the sorrowful; and the blessing of him that 
 was ready to perish shall surely come upon you." 
 
 Meanwhile, Isabella Goffe with that look of 
 beautiful composure she so well knew how to as 
 sume, was hastening the escape of her devoted 
 relatives. A forced smile still played on her 
 countenance, and, save its deathlike paleness, 
 there was no expression of the intense agony 
 which wrung the heart of the heroic wife. 
 
 "Farewell, my father," she cried, throwing her 
 arm around the old man, as he lingered a mo 
 ment on the threshold. " It will be long ere we 
 meet again we may never meet again," she 
 added solemnly, and with a strong effort subdu 
 ing the sobs of her anguish. " Bless me, Oh. my 
 father," and she fell upon his neck, while the old 
 man breathed forth a fervent petition that the 
 God of heaven would be to his cherished one as 
 a hiding place from the wrath of that fearful tern- 
 
THE REGICIDES. 79 
 
 pest. Then turning away and leaning upon his 
 staff he moved rapidly downward. 
 
 But William GofTe still lingered at the door of 
 the cave. " You must not stay," exclaimed the 
 lady, fervently. " Farewell, William. Long and 
 bright days may yet be in store for us, even on 
 earth ; and if we see each other s faces no more 
 here, we will so live that we may meet in heaven." 
 He folded her in his arms, his stern lip trembled, 
 and his eye grew dim with tears. 
 
 " Farewell, thou best and loveliest thou art 
 indeed more meet to bloom amid the inheritance 
 of saints in light, than here farewell, my own 
 precious Isabella, fare thee well," and wrapping 
 the mantle around his noble form, he turned ab 
 ruptly from the cave. 
 
 Margaret and the high souled Isabella were 
 still standing at the entrance, and gazing ear 
 nestly upon the fast receding forms of the judges, 
 when the sound of a loud trampling in the path 
 beneath, arrested their attention. Two well 
 dressed cavaliers, whom they instantly recognized 
 as the royal pursuivants, were ascending the steep 
 acclivity. Near the foot of the mountain, the 
 quick eye of Isabella, familiar with every avenue 
 to the place of refuge, discovered their horses un 
 der the shade of a large tree, awaiting their re 
 turn. As the cavaliers approached the summit, 
 their glances were directed frequently and ear 
 nestly in various drections, resting at last on the 
 form of Isabella, for Margaret had retreated with 
 in the cave. Mingled surprise and admiration 
 were visible on their countenances, as they now 
 obtained a nearer survey of the beautiful inhabi 
 tant of the cliff; and as if they had expected to 
 find the Lady of the Mist, only the disguised 
 
80 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 form of one of the regicides, they were evidently 
 confounded. The lady herself, with a reserved 
 and graceful dignity, seemed waiting their mes 
 sage. 
 
 " We are seeking," said Kirk, as they paused a 
 few steps from the place she occupied, " we are 
 seeking to obey the mandate of his Majesty, by 
 arresting two condemned criminals, the regicides 
 Whalley and Goffe." 
 
 " Then let me assure you, sir," replied the lady, 
 in tones which, in spite of all efforts, betrayed 
 her emotion, " your excursion here is fruitless, 1 
 am the sole inhabitant of the cave, and you must 
 seek elsewhere for your victims." 
 
 "And how long," inquired Kellond, who per 
 ceived at once, by the manner of the lady, that 
 their conjectures were not groundless, " how long 
 since the said criminals effected their escape from 
 hence? Shall we search the cave?" he continued, 
 turning to his companion, for Isabella Goffe now 
 maintained a haughty silence. 
 
 " It is in vain searching the cage, when the 
 bird has flown," replied Kirk, following at the 
 same moment the direction of the lady s eye, as 
 she cast a troubled and involuntary glance upon 
 the distant road. " Tom Kellond, look ye there !" 
 he exclaimed, suddenly and eagerly pointing his 
 companion, as he spoke, to a point in the road 
 where it wound round a green and shaded hill, 
 on the side of which the forms of the fugitives 
 were at that moment distinctly visible. 
 
 " Can you tell us, madam," rejoined Mr. Kel 
 lond hastily, "if the persons you are gazing after 
 so earnestly, have anything to do with the objecti 
 of our pursuit ? Methinks they answer well the de 
 scription." A flash of unutterable agony for a 
 
THE REGICIDES. 81 
 
 moment lighted the beautiful eye of Isabella: 
 the next indeed a careless and haughty smile ap 
 peared on her features, but it was too late they 
 had read the meaning of her first glance, and 
 now without waiting for further inquiries, moved 
 swiftly down the rock. 
 
 " There is no hope for them, Margaret, 
 they will surely perish," exclaimed Isabella, as 
 Miss Weldon issued from the cave, " they will 
 surely perish," and she folded her arms, and 
 gazed in silent and hopeless agony upon the dis 
 tant and beloved forms of the unconscious vic 
 tims. 
 
 " But remember," replied the young lady, " it 
 is only our superior height which enables us to 
 see them. Some time must elapse, ere they again 
 become visible to the pursuers ; and perhaps they 
 may first be warned of their approach." 
 
 " Ah, how slow how slow ye move," muttered 
 the lady, unconsciously addressing the objects of 
 her solicitude. " Would to heaven that my voice 
 were the thunder or the whirlwind, so it might 
 reach your ear. My father VVilliam my own 
 William, fly fly I conjure you," and her 
 voice was choked with a burst of agony, too wild 
 for control. " Ha ! Margaret, as I live, they are 
 waiting for their enemy," she continued, after a 
 moment s pause ; and Margaret perceived, with a 
 sensation of mingled astonishment and horror, 
 that the forms of the distant travelers were now 
 indeed apparently stationary. 
 
 The road at a short distance before them was 
 intersected by a small but rapid stream, over which 
 a bridge had been recently erected ; and after 
 gazing, for a few moments, in every direction 
 
THE REGICIDES. 
 
 around them, the persecuted judges again moved 
 onward. 
 
 " Where are they, Margaret," said Isabella, 
 who having turned for a moment to watch the 
 progress of the pursuers, now looked in vain for 
 the forms of her husband and father but neither 
 could her companion at all account for their sud 
 den disappearance. " Ah, I comprehend it now," 
 continued the lady with a sudden burst of delight, 
 " they are concealed beneath the bridge, do 
 not doubt it did you mark how suddenly they 
 vanished ?" and in a delirium of fear and hope, 
 she leaned to watch the approaching crisis. In 
 descending the hill, the horsemen gradually 
 changed the quick gallop with which they had 
 first appeared, into a slower movement, occasion 
 ally pausing and gazing earnestly around them. 
 They were evidently astonished to perceive that 
 the objects of their search were still no where in 
 sight, and, as Margaret had feared, unwilling to 
 believe that they could possibly have proceeded 
 with sufficient velocity to become invisible in the 
 distance. 
 
 " Merciful God ! deliver them," exclaimed the 
 lady, as Margaret essayed to support her sinking 
 form in her arms. The pursuers had at this moment 
 paused in the midst of the bridge, and were ap 
 parently scrutinizing with much interest, the fair 
 and quiet landscape around them. " You can 
 not bear it dear Isabella," said Margaret, " trust 
 them with heaven, and come into the cave." 
 
 " Oh, hush hush," whispered Isabella, regard 
 ing her a moment with that fearful smile with 
 which love had taught her to veil her wildest 
 agony, " I can bear any thing, Margaret, do not 
 doubt me," and again her eye rested upon the 
 
THE REGICIDES. 83 
 
 pursuers. They were at that moment dismount 
 ing from their horses, and after carefully fasten 
 ing their bridles to the railing of the bridge, and 
 proceeding to the other side, they began swiftly 
 to descend towards the margin of the stream. 
 
 " Ah, they are lost ! After all, they are lost," 
 murmured Isabella faintly. " I was wrong, Mar 
 garet, I can not no I can not endure it," and 
 with one long and agonizing sigh, her head droop 
 ed motionless on her shoulder. 
 
 "They art gone look up, my sweet friend, and 
 fear nothing," said Miss Weldon, as she stood 
 with her arm around the lady, and fanning with 
 her light bonnet, her faded brow and cheek. 
 " They are going to search the wood beyond. 
 Ah ! I knew they would never dream of such a 
 hiding place." The pursuers were now indeed 
 winding their way along the margin of the stream 
 towards an extended wood, at no great distance, 
 whose thick and tangled underwood seemed 
 to present the most natural place of conceal 
 ment. 
 
 A faint hue of life at this moment tinged the 
 cheek of the pale Isabella, and a joyful bright 
 ness glistened in her eye, for now the beloved 
 beings, who had but just seemed lost to her for 
 ever, suddenly appeared rising from the bank of 
 the stream. They passed swiftly over, and then 
 paused a moment, pointing to the horses which 
 their pursuers had tied to the bridge. After a 
 moment s consultation, the younger of the fugi 
 tives turned again to the bridge, and loosening 
 the bridles, left the horses at liberty ; and then 
 rapidly rejoined his companion. The steeds, as 
 if comprehending his wishes, quietly trotted 
 
84 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 homeward, leaving their worthy riders to the free 
 employment of their respective powers of loco 
 motion. In what manner these were exercised, 
 doth not appear from our history; it is certain, 
 however, that the regicides pursued without dis 
 covery, their northward journey. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 IT is impossible for the most vivid imagination, 
 to conceive the various reports which would pro 
 bably have originated from the events just describ 
 ed, or rather from such fragments of those events 
 as might have found their way to the village, had 
 not the whole curiosity of the community been 
 suddenly diverted to a still more interesting sub 
 ject. It had been now for many hours, a matter 
 beyond doubt, that the wedding of Margaret Wei- 
 don was that evening to be celebrated at the 
 dwelling of her aunt. 
 
 Preparations for the approaching festival, the 
 inquiry who were invited, who had failed of an 
 invitation, the probable dress and appearance of 
 the bride, were all subjects too painfully and 
 engrossingly interesting to allow of any long di 
 gressions. 
 
 At an early hour a large party were assembled 
 in Mrs. Wilmot s best room, awaiting with anx 
 ious glances, the entrance of the bride. The 
 room had been arranged in a style of taste and 
 rural elegance becoming so joyful an occasion; its 
 walls were hung with festooned wreaths of flow 
 ers, and several large and beautiful bouquets 
 adorned the mantel-piece opposite this was an 
 arched recess, profusely adorned, and as yet unoc 
 cupied. 
 
 8 
 
86 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 Mrs. Wilmot had a few minutes since welcomed 
 her last guest, and all was now anxious and silent 
 expectation, interrupted indeed by an occa 
 sional whispered conjecture of some of the 
 younger females of the party. All surmises and 
 queries, however, were now speedily silenced by 
 the entrance of the bridal train, and the ceremony 
 and prayers, much longer and more particular 
 than in these degenerate days, were performed 
 without interruption or embarrassment. Some 
 there were, indeed, who hinted at the excessive 
 paleness of the young bride, kindly hoping that her 
 choice had not so soon been repented ; but our 
 readers who are acquainted with the circumstan 
 ces of her morning ramble, will certainly place 
 upon it a more charitable construction. We will 
 pass over the details of the merriment, that now 
 echoed through the apartment; and indeed the 
 whole wedding might have been consigned to a 
 similar oblivion, but for the sake of a singular 
 circumstance which occurred during its celebra 
 tion, forming a tlierne for fireside meditation for 
 months and even years afterwards. 
 
 In the midst of a confused hum of conversation 
 and as nearly as could be recollected, just after 
 the performance of the ceremony, it was suddenly 
 perceived by some of the less loquacious, that 
 there was in the company a stranger to whom not 
 one had been introduced. In a retired corner of 
 the room sat a female whose appearance was pe 
 culiar. The entire want of ornament in her dress, 
 while it attracted the attention of some, was to 
 others the least striking peculiarity in her appear 
 ance ; for when her face, at first downcast as if 
 in mental absence, was raised, they saw a coun 
 tenance of strange and indescribable beauty, but 
 
THE REi;icii)i:s. 87 
 
 pale and sorrowful, as if the light of young hopes 
 had gone out there forever, leaving in its stead 
 high thoughts and holy purposes, but nought of 
 earth save its deep and tender affections. Such 
 as were most curious in noticing her dress, dis 
 covered, as the breeze from the window slightly 
 disarranged the drapery which covered her neck, 
 that she wore a rich golden necklace. This cir 
 cumstance might have been forgotten had not 
 other incidents afterwards kept it in remem 
 brance. 
 
 The low interrogations that now passed from 
 group to group, instead of satisfying only excited 
 to a higher point, the prevalent feeling of curi 
 osity. None could toll who the stranger was, or 
 whence she came. The curiosity of the company 
 was gradually tinged with superstition and height 
 ened to fear. And when some one, in a whisper, 
 at last interrogated the mistress of the mansion, 
 her evident evasion of the question by some inde 
 finite and purposely ambiguous reply, gave no 
 satisfaction. There was a slight check on the 
 merriment of the company. The tones of laugh 
 ter if no less loud than at first, were less free and 
 careless, and many a sidelong glance was direct 
 ed to the corner occupied by the stranger. 
 
 Indeed those who first discovered her presence, 
 afterwards asserted that at the first glance some 
 indescribable sensation struck to their hearts ; 
 and it was said that those whose attention was 
 directed thither, if ever so gay at the moment, 
 became gradually reserved and gloomy. 
 
 At length, the eye of the stranger was lifted 
 with a new expression. Alice Weldon had just 
 entered the room, and the illuminated glance of 
 the lady followed her, as she glided among the 
 
88 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 guests in the exuberance of childish happiness. 
 The thoughts of the more imaginative and ner 
 vous among the observers, testified that there was 
 surely something mysteriously fascinating in the 
 smile, with which the object of so much curi 
 osity, watched every movement of the child, as 
 if anxious to catch her notice. Presently the 
 eye of the little one turned towards the cor 
 ner, where the stranger sat alone. That gaze 
 of delight arrested her attention ; and, in a 
 moment, an answering smile played upon her 
 lip. 
 
 It was in vain that the lady who happened 
 to be nearest the child, sought with a violent 
 effort to engage her in something else. The 
 attempt was for a moment successful, but that 
 strangely winning smile seemed to attract her 
 with an irresistible influence. With a quick 
 movement she withdrew her hand from the 
 grasp that confined it, and in spite of the ef 
 forts made to divert her attention, moved slow 
 ly across the room. The smile deepened on 
 the lip of the stranger, as the lovely child now 
 hesitatingly approached her. 
 
 " You are a beautiful lady," said the little 
 one, pausing at a short distance from her, as if 
 afraid to advance ; " you are the prettiest lady 
 I have seen to night shall I come and sit with 
 you ?" 
 
 " Ah, come, come, sweet one," replied the lady, 
 in a rich and trembling tone, while every feature 
 kindled with a look of intreaty. 
 
 Alice stood for a moment with her hand 
 in hers, and looked silently upwards on her 
 countenance. "Are you like Margaret?" she 
 at last said, with an air of perplexity, turning 
 
THE REGICIDES. 89 
 
 at the same moment towards the bride, as if 
 seeking to institute a comparison between them. 
 " No, no, it is not Margaret," she added look 
 ing again at her new friend, " Who are you 
 like ?" 
 
 The stranger replied only by bending to press 
 the lips of the little girl to hers. 
 
 " You must love me as well as Margaret," 
 she at length added, in the same subdued 
 and thrilling tone, "will you not, my precious 
 one >" 
 
 "Shall I love you better?" replied the child, 
 climbing suddenly into her embrace, and twining 
 her soft little arms around her, " shall I love you 
 better than Margaret, a thousand times better ?" 
 and she pressed her lips to those of her new 
 found friend, until the lady seemed unable to re 
 press her emotion. 
 
 This was the last that was noticed of them. 
 The entrance of refreshments for a few mo 
 ments absorbed the attention, and when curi 
 ous eyes were again turned to the corner, 
 neither Alice nor the mysterious stranger, were 
 visible. The former, however, soon re-appeared 
 from a door which opened to the hall, and it 
 was at once percieved, that she wore on her 
 fair and rounded neck, the golden chain which 
 had before beon discovered on the neck of the 
 stranger lady. It was also percieved that, on 
 her return, she manifested an appearance of 
 deep melancholy, and seating herself in the 
 place which the stranger had occupied, scarcely 
 smiled or spoke during the remainder of the 
 evening. 
 
 The influence of the stranger over the little 
 orphan, was not confined to the present occasion. 
 8* 
 
90 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 It was thought that a seriousness and unusual 
 pensiveness of disposition, was ever after dis 
 coverable in her character. 
 
 The next morning the good ship Beaver sail 
 ed for Liverpool, and from that time forth, no 
 thing more was seen or heard of " the Lady of 
 the Mist." 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE course of our history requires us to pass 
 over the fifteen ensuing years, without any par 
 ticular notice. During that time important chan 
 ges had taken place as well in the scene of this 
 story, as in the persons who are its actors. The 
 village was gradually becoming a large and flour 
 ishing town, and many of the families which had 
 before occupied its chief places were no longer 
 to be found. Their heads had gone down to the 
 land of forgetfulness, their various members were 
 widely scattered, while another household gath 
 ered around the hearth which had once been sa 
 cred to their joys. 
 
 Mrs. Mary VVilmot, however, still lived, and in 
 the same place as at the close of the last chapter. 
 Time had not much altered its appearance. The 
 house was as white, and the gravel walks as clean, 
 and the flowers as blooming, as when fifteen years 
 ago, the fair Margaret had left the place for her 
 husband s residence. Another hand, indeed, now 
 taught the woodbine to climb in its wonted place, 
 and propped and trimmed the sweet-briar and 
 roses that adorned the court ; but they had lost 
 nothing by the exchange, that hand was as fair 
 and gentle, and the taste which arranged them, 
 as exquisite, as any that ever culled a blossom, 
 
92 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 since the first fair tender of flowers brightened 
 the first garden with her beauty. Mrs. Wilmot 
 had not been deserted in her declining years. A 
 lovely and accomplished young lady, whom she 
 had reared from her early childhood, was now 
 her constant companion ; and though there were 
 some who hesitated not to pronounce her a sin 
 gular and unaccountable being, the old lady found 
 in her all that was gentle, and patient, and love 
 ly. The charge, however, was not wholly ground 
 less. 
 
 Alice Weldon had indeed exhibited on many 
 occasions, what had seemed wildness and eccen 
 tricity of character, to those who had no clue to 
 the secret springs of her noble nature. A roman 
 tic imagination, a set of ardent and enthusiastic 
 feelings, and a certain pure and fearless inde 
 pendence of soul, together formed a character 
 which all might not love, and which only the few 
 with spirits like hers, could truly appreciate. 
 Alice Weldon had never exhibited to her com 
 panions, or even cherished in her secret heart, any 
 selfish emotions of pride ; on the contrary, a pe 
 culiar sweetness of deportment on her part, had 
 ever marked their intercourse. But there was a 
 kind of unconscious superiority in the curl of her 
 rosy lip ; she seemed to live in a world of fancy 
 and feeling, to them inaccessible ; she was 
 more beautiful, more graceful, more intellec 
 tual than her companions ; and though not in 
 fact haughty or capricious, it was not strange 
 that as the character of the child became gradu 
 ally merged in that of the elegant, high spirited 
 and romantic young lady, these epithets began 
 freely to attach themselves to her name. 
 
 These evil dispositions were, in part, attributed 
 
THE REGICIDES. 93 
 
 to that defective system of education which Mrs. 
 Wilmot had adopted with her niece. Alice Wei- 
 don had ever been allowed the indulgence of all 
 her innocent tastes and feelings, without opposition 
 or restraint. Her love for the romantic had been 
 encouraged by frequent and lonely rambles 
 among the beautiful scenery in the outskirts of 
 the village. An exquisite taste for drawing, had 
 been improved by the lessons of a teacher who 
 had chanced to reside a few months in the colo 
 ny. Her thirst for poetry had been gratified by 
 a perusal of the best authors. The native melo 
 dy of her voice, untaught save by an occasional 
 attendance at the village singing school, was 
 warbled forth in a thousand plaintive airs; and 
 one could scarce ever pass the door of Mrs. Wil- 
 mot s house at twilight, without listening to her 
 sweet and bird-like tones. 
 
 But by far the most important source of Alice 
 Weldon s singularities, was supposed by some to 
 lie in the rich golden chain that ever adorned her 
 person. The strange manner in which it had 
 been acquired, was not yet forgetten ; and it was 
 still supposed to exert a mysterious influence 
 over all her thoughts and feelings. Indeed it 
 did appear as if some melancholy spell had been 
 secretly breathed over the heart of its possessor. 
 A brilliant gaiety of spirit was sometimes seen 
 bursting forth in every tone and look, like a rich 
 gleam of sunshine among clouds, and then again 
 retreating, as if at the bidding of that hidden in 
 fluence. 
 
 It was a pleasant June twilight, and Alice Wei- 
 don was standing by the parlour window, her 
 head bowed down earnestly to catch the last 
 beams of daylight that lingered on the page. 
 
94 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 But the shadows fell fast, and raising her eye to 
 the window, she perceived that she was the ob 
 ject of an earnest and protracted gaze from a gen 
 tleman who was at that moment slowly passing. 
 The stranger, for such he seemed, was tall, well 
 dressed, and prepossessing in his appearance. He 
 smiled, and as Alice imagined, bowed slightly 
 just as she averted his countenance. The circum 
 stance was surely a singular one, so much so, 
 that the young lady still continued by the wind 
 ow absorbed in a profound reverie, until the voice 
 of Mrs. Wilmot summoned her to the table. Not 
 that the casual passing of a stranger, or even a 
 curious and protracted glance of the window, 
 were by any means unparalleled occurrences ; nor 
 was the expression of admiration with which he 
 evidently surveyed her, altogether a thing unpre 
 cedented. The stranger had indeed seemed pe 
 culiarly gifted with those attractions of person, 
 which are usually counted upon as best suited to 
 win the heart of a young and romantic female ; 
 but we will do our heroine the justice to say, that 
 for all this, the memory of the youth might have 
 passed away from her mind, as his manly form 
 fuded from her vision. But that momentary 
 glance had aroused the sweet and thrilling 
 memories of childhood ; there was something in 
 that smiling countenance, to remind her of one 
 whom she had once known and loved ; and every 
 time that the image of the youthful stranger re 
 turned to her fancy, there came with it, the dark 
 locks, the clear eye, and the sunny brow, of him 
 who had been the companion of her infancy. 
 
 The next day it became a well authenticated 
 piece of intelligence that Mr. Henry Davenport, 
 son of the former venerable pastor of the town 
 
THE REGICIDES. 95 
 
 had come from Boston to take up his residence 
 in New-Haven having become I he possessor of 
 the property left by the deceased patriarch in the 
 colony which had first numbered him among its 
 pillars. The addition of an rdurak-d and ac 
 complished young man to the society of the place 
 was a much more unfrcqucnt and important event 
 than at the present day, and while none received 
 the intelligence with indifference, it cannot be 
 denied that to the rninds of some, at least among 
 the young and fair, the event thus announced 
 was one of special interest. Many were anxious 
 to renew their acquaintance with the rich and 
 honored young man, whom they remembered only 
 as the active, high-spirited and amiable boy. It 
 was not strange that thus for a few weeks he was 
 fast becoming an object of some interest to the 
 fair ones of the village. A sudden check was 
 however put to any indiscreet admiration that 
 might have been lavished upon him by the intel 
 ligence that Alice Weldon, amid the unobtrusive 
 seclusion of her aunt s dwelling, in the loveliness 
 of her youth and beauty, had won, irretrievably 
 won, the heart of the accomplished young Da 
 venport. 
 
 It was a bright, bland, summer evening when 
 Henry Davenport first openly declared the histo 
 ry of a long and devoted attachment. But there 
 is something in the development of the first love 
 nf a young heart, altogether too sacred for the 
 1< aves of a printed volume ; and we have ever felt 
 that there was a kind of sacrilege done, when the 
 recesses of such a soul have been broken open, 
 and those sweet and holy affections which would 
 fain shrink even from their own consciousness or 
 are at best revealed to one alone, have been pour- 
 
96 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 ed out in passionate expressions for the gaze of the 
 many the cold hearted, perhaps, the rude and 
 the curious. The incidents of the tale however 
 and the development of its characters, require 
 the introduction of the present scene, and we 
 must plead the above mentioned scruples, togeth 
 er with some slight inexperience of our own, as 
 an apology for the blank in its description. 
 ********* 
 
 The blush had faded from the neck and brow 
 of the fair girl, but her head leaned on her hand, 
 and its living damask still glowed through the 
 slender fingers and the bright hair that fell over 
 them. There had been a few low and broken 
 words, but these were past, and now her voice 
 was clear and calm. 
 
 " Henry, they have told you that I was a ro 
 mantic and singular being, that my actions were 
 all guided by the influence of a mysterious and 
 secret charm. I am about to prove that these 
 things are true. To all that I may have said in 
 an unguarded moment, there is one unyielding 
 condition. You may think me unjust and ca 
 pricious but" 
 
 " Name it," interrupted the youth hastily, 
 "Alice, if it is a deed for mortal arm, you have 
 but to name your condition." 
 
 The young lady slowly unclasped the beautiful 
 ornament that adorned her neck, and placed it 
 in his hand. "Reveal to me the fate of the be 
 ing who gave me this." 
 
 "Nay, Alice, you are trifling with my feelings, 
 he answered, gazing with surprise upon the cost 
 ly trinket, " this is unkind you cannot be se 
 rious." 
 
 " I am serious, Henry," replied the lady. He 
 
THE REGICIDES* 97 
 
 \vho would win my hand, must first penetrate, for 
 me, the mystery which involves the history of her 
 who gave this necklace," and as she spoke she 
 pointed to a small and rudely inscribed motto 
 beneath the clasp. 
 
 " JV ovbliezpas ta mere" murmured the young 
 gentleman, holding it near the light. " What 
 means it Alice? I had thought that this was the 
 chain given you when a child by the strange lady 
 at your sister s wedding." 
 
 "It is, Henry Davenport, it is the very same; 
 and I doubt not that lady was my mother. Nay 
 hear me, Henry. You call me Alice Weldon, 
 and you think me the sister of Margaret Russel, 
 and the niece of Mrs. Wilmot; but when I tell 
 you that in thus doing you are mistaking me for 
 another, perhaps you will credit my assertion : 
 The stranger who clasped this chain around my 
 neck, was, without doubt, my mother." 
 
 "Explain yourself, Alice," rejoined the other 
 in a tone of surprise and agitation. "You cer 
 tainly cannot expect me to comprehend your 
 meaning." 
 
 " You doubtless remember," continued the 
 young lady, the " circumstances of her myste 
 rious appearance." 
 
 "They have often been related to me; but 
 until this moment, I had always believed it the 
 exaggeration of ungratified curiosity, which at 
 tached such importance to the gift. Indeed I 
 had reason to imagine, that it was only present 
 ed from motives of affection to your si-ter. Go 
 on Alice your words are strange, and yet me- 
 thinks they tally well with some wild thoughts of 
 my own, many years ago." 
 
 " I was but four years old." continued Miss 
 9 
 
98 THE REGfCIDES. 
 
 Weldon. "when this singular occurrence took 
 place ; but the impressions it produced, are still 
 vivid in my recollection. Ah, I can never forget 
 the thrilling ideas that rushed upon my mind, when 
 I first surveyed the stranger, as she sat in yonder 
 recess. But she was no stranger to me." 
 
 "And you had seen her then before," inter 
 rupted her auditor. 
 
 " I am almost certain that I had, and yet I can 
 not remember the occasion, but I well know it- 
 was no new face to me. It seemed rather like 
 one of those beautiful countenance that had 
 often looked down and smiled upon me in my 
 dreams, and my heart sprang forth to meet her, 
 impelled by some unaccountable influence. And 
 when she bade me farewell \v< stood in the 
 porch together, and she folded me to her bosom 
 with such a passionate embrace, and wept over me 
 with such an agony of tenderness, calling me her 
 own precious and cherished one, and charging 
 me to remember and love her so long as I should 
 live in the world, that, were I to live for ages, I 
 could never forget her. Henry, I have remem 
 bered her, and, in all her beauty and sorrowful 
 tenderness, her image is at this moment as fresh 
 before me as when she stood among the ivy, weep 
 ing over me that last farewell. And yet, per 
 haps, this beautiful memorial, which never for a 
 moment suffered the bright picture to grow dim, 
 contributed much to strengthen these impres 
 sions. Thenceforth she was the idol of my fan 
 cy, the bright spirit of my waking and slumbering 
 visions. I do not mean that, at that time, I had 
 even for a moment conjectured the relation which 
 subsists between us. The being that I then loved 
 was the creature of my imagination and dear to 
 
THE REniCIOES. 90 
 
 me as furnishing an object to those mysterious 
 and secret yearnings, that had ever haunted my 
 solitude." 
 
 " And did you never feel your curiosity excited 
 concerning her?" 
 
 "Often, and most painfully, but my inquiries 
 were all in vain. Aunt Wilmot has ever assured 
 me of her entire ignorance respecting her fate. 
 Two years ago as I was one morning arranging 
 the drawers of an old fashioned escrutoire, that 
 stood in my aunt s apartment, my hand acciden 
 tally touched a secret spring which discovered 
 a department of the case 1 had never before 
 seen. I was delighted at the occurrence, be 
 cause, this ancient piece of furniture had remain 
 ed in the family for several generations, and I fan 
 cied I was about to discover the secrets of some 
 past age. The first letter I seized upon, bore 
 the fragments of a black seal ; and on opening 
 it I perceived that it was addressed to my aunt. 
 Delicacy would of course prevent my perusing 
 it, but, as I was closing it, my eye glanced un 
 intentionally upon the first lines, and I trembled 
 with amazement. You may read it, Henry, if 
 you will, for I copied it ere I left the apartment." 
 
 The young man seized with avidity the folded 
 paper, which was now presented to him. It con 
 tained the following sentences. "This will in 
 form you, madam, of the death of Alice Weldon, 
 youngest daughter of your deceased sister, Mrs. 
 Margaret Weldon. We were preparing, as our 
 last informed you, to send her to America ac 
 cording to the provisions of the will, and indeed 
 had made arrangements to forward her in charge 
 of the gentlemen who hands you this letter, 
 when she was suddenly attacked with a violent 
 
100 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 disease which on the 24th inst. terminated her 
 existence," Mr. Davenport rose hastily from his 
 seat as he finished its perusal and began to walk 
 with a hurried and unconscious step. A flush 
 had meanwhile gathered on his cheek ; and an 
 expression of mingled astonishment and delight 
 animated his countenance. 
 
 "And was there aught else, Alice Alice Wei- 
 don, for so I must and will call you, did this cu 
 rious letter contain any further information ?" 
 
 "Only some tedious details which convinced 
 me that its writer was the executor of Mrs. 
 Weldon s estate ; but I had no heart to exam 
 ine further. The date was precisely the time at 
 which I was supposed to have arrived in Ame 
 rica, and I was at once convinced that I had, 
 all my life, usurped a name and station to which 
 I had no claim. Hitherto orphan though I was, 
 I had deemed myself surrounded with endeared 
 and affectionate relatives; but now the delusion 
 was over, I was alone in the world an isolated 
 being, and my hopes all clouded." 
 
 " And why so Alice ? What if this discovery 
 should reveal to you relations far nearer than 
 those it has annihilated, and teach you to claim 
 a parentage that princes might glory in. Ah, I 
 see it all now. There is, there cannot be the 
 shadow of a doubt Alice Weldon, did you nev 
 er suspect yourself to be the daughter of" 
 
 "Of whom ?" repeated the young lady in low 
 and hushed tones, for she had waited in vain for 
 the conclusion of the sentence he was still si 
 lent, and her cheek became colorless as the white 
 rose that lay in her hair. 
 
 " I have done wrong. Forgive me, my gentle 
 Alice," he at length replied, checking his hur~ 
 
THE REGICIDES. 101 
 
 ried movements, and his kindled eye softening 
 as he spoke, " Mrs. Wilmot, as well as Govern 
 or Leet must have been privy to this strange 
 secret, and you say that they never hinted any 
 thing to you concerning it." 
 
 " Never!" 
 
 " And have you never revealed to them this 
 singular discovery?" 
 
 "No; the thought was agony till this night 
 the secret has been buried in my own heart, and 
 but for you it might have died with me. It did 
 indeed double my inquiries concerning the myste 
 rious visit of the stranger, but they were always 
 evaded, and indeed, Mrs. Wilmot seemed pained 
 whenever it was mentioned. For as I had felt 
 my relations to the beings around me suddenly 
 severed, my thoughts Itad gradually fastened, with 
 a new and strange devotion, upon that beautiful 
 image of memory, which seemed to me to con 
 centrate all that was lovely in human tenderness. 
 I endeavored to reason calmly, to divest myself 
 of enthusiasm, I remrmbered every tone and 
 look, the gust of tears, the passionate embrace; 
 and I could not but feel that there was a link in 
 our destinies, something strong as the ties of na 
 tural affection. The translation of the little mot 
 to you see on the clasp was at length obtained, 
 " Forget not thy mother" There was no longer 
 a doubt. Yes, Henry, it was my own mother 
 who fifteen years since went forth from this house 
 in such bitterness. Who knows but that she may 
 still live alone unprotected in peril and sor 
 row, while I whose duty it is to soothe and com 
 fort her, am wasting my hours in careless ease, 
 unmindful of one who charged me to love and 
 remember her. No, Henry, 1 will enter into no 
 
102 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 new relations until I can fulfil those first and sa 
 cred obligations, of which this gift is an endu 
 ring token. I cannot be happy and I will not 
 mar with my own dark fortunes the destiny of 
 another." 
 
 " But she may be dead," replied the youth in 
 agitation. " Say nothing rashly, Alice. Remem 
 ber, fifteen years have past since you saw her." 
 
 " I do. And now hear me, Henry hear the 
 condition of my plighted troth. Unravel this 
 mystery I know you have already a clue you 
 do not choose to confide to me but I will not 
 urge you. Uuravel this mystery. Reveal to me 
 the fate of this mysterious being, and oh, if living, 
 restore her to me." 
 
 "And then?" 
 
 " I will deem it my highest happiness to love 
 and honor you forever." 
 
 " The curfew now slowly announced the hour 
 of nine, and Henry Davenport ere long departed 
 for his lodgings. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 ON a cold moonlight winter evening, some 
 eighteen months after the events recorded in 
 the last chapter, a small sleigh was seen 
 blithely jingling over the road which forms 
 the southern entrance to the village of H 
 The back seat was occupied by two ladies com 
 pletely enveloped in the folds of a huge buffalo 
 skin, and that in front by a single gentleman in 
 the capacity of driver. 
 
 " Drive faster, Richard, for heaven s sake," ex 
 claimed one of the ladies in an impatient tone, 
 as they slackened their pace at the slight ascent 
 before them. "I say, Richard, if you do not set 
 us down somewhere, and that speedily, I will take 
 the reins myself." " If one of these drifts would 
 suit your ladyship," replied the other, turning 
 with a threatening air to the roadside, " I can 
 easily accomplish your wishes. Will you alight ?" 
 
 "Ah, Richard, you will not laugh when you 
 find me frozen to death under the buffalo skin. 
 I tell you my fingers are icicles already." 
 
 "Then they must be strikingly improved in 
 complexion," replied the other with an air of ex 
 treme indifference, but at that moment a loud 
 and triumphant shaking of the bells announced 
 that the horse with his dignified and leisurely 
 tread had at length completed the ascent. " Ah ! 
 and here we are," shouted the driver, pointing at 
 
104 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 the same moment, with his whip, to the prospect 
 which had just become visible. 
 
 On the plain beneath, at no great distance, a 
 comfortable cluster of brown, red and white 
 houses, now appeared interrupting the bold ext 
 panse of snow and moonlight, while the fires and 
 candles gleaming through the distant windows 
 seemed to diffuse a delicious glow through the 
 hearts of the half frozen travellers. 
 
 "But, Richard, we have been so often deceived 
 with these log houses, and jack-a-lanterns, I don t 
 believe it is the real village." 
 
 "Not the village, Susan. Why then my pre 
 cious sister, open your eyes. Do you not see the 
 steeple as plain as daylight at the northern ex 
 tremity, and a little to the right, the sparks from 
 the blacksmith s forge, they told us of, and did 
 we not pass the " Three mile mill," half an 
 hour ago ?" 
 
 Meanwhile they were darting down the hill, 
 with sufficient rapidity to compensate for the te- 
 diousness of the ascent. 
 
 "What a hill for a slide," said the talkative 
 young lady, turning for a moment to survey it, just 
 as they reached the plain. " I declare, I would like 
 nothing better than to be a child for fifteen min 
 utes, if it were only to enjoy another frolic in the 
 snow and, as it is, I would risk rny dignity for 
 a single slide from yonder summit. Ah, Alice, 
 you need not smile so contemptuously," she con 
 tinued, turning to the lady who sat silently by 
 her, " 1 have known graver and wiser ladies than 
 yourself guilty of similar indiscretions. Even 
 that revered matron we are about to visit, aye, 
 and the madam of a parish I remember the 
 day when she sprung on the sled and rode down 
 
THE REGICIDES. 105 
 
 as blithely as any of us. But, I fancy, she failed 
 not of some grave rebukes on the subject. Do 
 you remember it, Richard ? It was the night the 
 English travellers came, and whom should we 
 meet at the foot of the hill, but the worthy Mr. 
 Russel himself. But I beg your pardon, Richard, 
 I remember you always chose to ride by yourself. 
 It was Henry Davenport that was guiding the 
 sled." 
 
 "And do you know," interrupted the young 
 man, without regarding her previous remark, that 
 young Davenport has returned from England?" 
 
 "Returned!" exclaimed the silent young lady, 
 in a tone of thrilling emphasis, and smarting as if 
 electrified. Richard did I hear you aright ? 
 Henry Davenport returned ?" 
 
 "Aye; so they say," replied her companion, I 
 found an old friend of ours at the last inn, who 
 says he met him three days ago in the streets of 
 Boston, and never saw him looking better." 
 
 "And is he going to New-Haven ?" continued 
 the young lady in the same tone of eager inquiry. 
 " What did he say, tell me I pray you, Richard." 
 
 "Indeed, cousin Alice," replied the other, "I 
 was always bad at guessing, and as I happened to 
 be driving you quietly over the Connecticut 
 hills, at the time of their interview, it is impos 
 sible for me to decide what were his veritable 
 words." 
 
 "Did you not know," said Susan, leaning 
 across the seat and speaking in a loud whisper, 
 " that about a year and a half since, it was re 
 ported that Henry Davenport was engaged to 
 Alice, and it was all broken off so suddenly? I 
 am sure, Dick, you might have spared her feel 
 ings." 
 
106 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 The conversation had gradually become inter 
 esting, and, before they were aware of it, they 
 found themselves entering the principal street of 
 H . It was only seven o clock, and the vil 
 lage presented an appearance of considerable 
 animation. Sleighs were moving merrily along, 
 and the pleasant sound of the bells, the lights 
 from the windows of the dwelling houses, and 
 above all the illumination which glared from the 
 little grocery, dry good, and hardware store, in 
 the midst, produced the idea of busy and cheer 
 ful enjoyment. The snow had been thrown in 
 piles on either side of the way, and some of the 
 inhabitants were now enjoying the comfortable 
 foot-paths thus furnished, in sallying forth for the 
 social evening visit. Near the center of the vil 
 lage, the principal street was intersected by an 
 other from the east, and it was on one of the 
 angles thus formed that our party at length drew 
 up before the large square house which had been 
 pointed out to them as the dwelling of Mr. Rus- 
 sel. It was one of the most ancient in the village, 
 and having never been painted, it had acquired 
 from long exposure, that tinge of sombre brown 
 so redolent with gloomy associations, and there 
 was an air of loneliness and desertion about it, 
 with the large old barns in the rear, particularly 
 when seen, as now, with their long and quiet sha 
 dows lying in the moonlight. Every object ex 
 hibited an air of perfect stillness, there were no 
 lights in the windows, and not even a dog to bark 
 their welcome. 
 
 " There s no wonder they call it a haunted 
 house," said Susan in a voice tremulous with 
 vexation, and turning to her companion in the 
 sleigh, while Richard knocked loudly at the door. 
 
THE HEGICIDES. 107 
 
 " I am quite sure I never saw a house look 
 more like it-" 
 
 " They are not at home, sir," said a tidy looking 
 woman, who had at length made her appearance. 
 " They are gone to the meeting the minister s 
 meeting and wont return till to-morrow. Will 
 you walk in ?" 
 
 "Ah! that we will, good woman, if you have 
 such a thing as a fire," replied the young man, 
 hastening at the same moment to assist the ladies 
 in alighting. 
 
 " It Mr. and Mrs. Russel are absent, I would 
 not stay in this house to-night for the world," 
 whispered Susan to her companion, as they 
 mounted the steps, "and indeed I should not 
 wonder if we were carried off bodily before 
 morning," she continued, in a still lower tone, as 
 they followed their conductress through a long 
 and extremely narrow hall. " Stranger things 
 hiive happened here, if all tales are true." 
 
 The door which terminated the passage, was 
 at length thrown open, and the travelers were 
 ushered into a bright and pleasant little parlor, 
 the social aspect of which seemed to remove 
 all cause of discontent. There was a fresh blaze 
 on the hearth, and the light and glow of the apart- 
 mentcontrasted strongly with the cold, pale moon 
 light without. The guests had been expected. 
 A small table was already spread for their re 
 freshment, and the good Mrs. Ramsay now has 
 tily arranged chairs for them around the fire. 
 
 " Ah, this seems more like a Christian dwel 
 ling" whispered Susan, in a low voice, as the 
 good dame left the apartment, "but, Richard, I 
 confess I do not exactly like the idea of staying 
 in the haunted house alone, or at least with 
 
108 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 strangers. I would rather the minister were at 
 home." 
 
 Richard s sarcastic reply was interrupted by 
 the re-appearance of Mrs. Ramsay, who seem 
 ed indeed to act in a much higher capacity than 
 that of an ordinary domestic. 
 
 " Mrs. Russel bade me tell you to make 
 yourselves at home, if you came during her 
 absence ; that is, if you are her sister and 
 cousins." 
 
 " I believe we can prove the fact to a demon 
 stration, good Mrs. Ramsay," answered Richard, 
 gaily disencumbering himself of his superfluous 
 apparel, " and I for one shall make use of its pri 
 vileges, ghosts and goblins to the contrary not 
 withstanding." 
 
 After a few meaning glances on the part of 
 Susan, the young ladies rose to follow his exam 
 ple, thus presenting Mrs. Ramsay an opportunity 
 of more unobservedly satisfying her curiosity. 
 They were both expensively dressed ; but the 
 discriminating eye of their observer, soon detect 
 ed a peculiar tastefulness in the apparel of the 
 younger. The mantle she had worn on her en 
 trance, had fallen from her shoulders, the dark 
 pelisse beneath revealing her light and graceful 
 figure. As she laid aside her veiled bonnet, the 
 waving curls beneath fell on a brow like marble, 
 high and fair, and darkly penciled ; a gleam of 
 spiritual beauty looked out from her blue eyes, 
 softened and shaded with its drooping lashes ; 
 while the melancholy cast of expression touching 
 every feature would have given interest, nay, 
 fascination, to a countenance of ordinary outline. 
 Nor was her companion destitute of personal at 
 tractions; her form was graceful, a sparkling 
 
THE REGICIDES. 109 
 
 bloom rested on her lip and cheek ; and, in other 
 company, she might have been deemed beauti 
 ful. But the light of genius and fancy, the bloom 
 of rich thoughts and feelings, will ever stamp on 
 the countenance of their possessor, a superior 
 and el> vated loveliness. 
 
 Though the worthy Mrs. Ramsay had not arriv 
 ed at exactly the same conclusion, with that to 
 which we have conducted our readers, she was 
 evidently investigating the comparative merits of 
 the young ladies, with a spirit of determined 
 resolution. The result, however, appeared at first 
 satisfactory. "If I may make bold to say it," 
 she at last said, turning to Susan with an air of 
 triumphant skill, "I expect you must be Madam 
 RussePs sister." 
 
 " No ; I have not that honor only her cou 
 sin." 
 
 " Then T will never trust a likeness again," 
 muttered the other in a disappointed tone, turn 
 ing to the table to hide her vexation. " I am sure 
 the other young lady favors her no more than I 
 do. No body would dream of their being rela 
 ted." Guessing was certainly Mrs. Ramsay s 
 forte; and she now completed the arrangement 
 of the table, with an air which evinced her dis 
 pleasure at the failure. 
 
 Alice VVeldon was the only one who seemed 
 not to relish the inviting repast. There was a 
 violent tremor in her whole frame, a strong and 
 visible excitement of feeling, and notwithstanding 
 her complaints of the effects of cold and weari 
 ness, her gay companions ere long desired to knovr 
 its cause. 
 
 But at that moment, the wind moaned heavily 
 through a distant part of the building, and all 
 10 
 
1JO THE REGICIDES. 
 
 the unpleasant associations which the cheerful 
 appearance of the little parlor had for a time dis 
 pelled, seemed to return with increased energy. 
 " It is nothing br-t the whistling of the wind," 
 replied Mrs. Ramsay, as Susan rose suddenly 
 from her seat by the table, and earnestly demand 
 ed its cause. " The shutters too are loose, and a 
 breeze from the north will always move them." 
 But neither this explanation, nor the raillery of 
 her brother, had power to allay the excited fears 
 of the young lady. When the keen apprehen 
 sion of evil is once aroused, it needs no frightful 
 occurrence to continue and strengthen its in 
 fluence. The slightest sound, the most trivial 
 incident, is greedily converted into cause of alarm, 
 until the mind is wrought up to an intense and 
 perhaps intolerable pitch of emotion. 
 
 "If you had seen what I have seen," said Mrs. 
 Ramsay, as the trio seated themselves by the fire, 
 " and if you had heard what I have heard, you 
 might well be afraid." She paused as if for en 
 couragement to proceed. 
 
 " And prythee what have you seen ?" replied 
 Richard, with a contemptuous smile, " be a little 
 more definite, I intreat you." 
 
 "Why, to tell you the truth to be plain with 
 you," continued Mrs. Ramsay, approaching the 
 fireside, with a solemn and mysterious expression, 
 "you must know that this house, a certain part 
 of it I mean, is haunted. Those who find it for 
 their interest may deny it as they will, but I will 
 stand to it, the longest day I live the house is a 
 haunted one." 
 
 " What part of it, good Mrs. Ramsay ?" cried 
 Susan, looking earnestly around the room, and 
 
THE REGICIDES. Ill 
 
 suppressing, for a moment, her quickened breath 
 ing. 
 
 "Do you see that door?" continued the other, 
 pointing to what seemed a small closet behind 
 Susan. 
 
 " What of it, Mrs. Ramsay ?" exclaimed the 
 young lady, suddenly vacating her seat for one on 
 the opposite side of the fire. 
 
 " Nay, Susan," interrupted Alice, now raising 
 her thoughtful and abstracted gluuce from the 
 embers. "You do wrong thus to agitate your 
 feelings. I cannot feel that there is cause for 
 your alarm." 
 
 "Ah, you cannot," replied the other with a 
 scornful smile. " Well, I will confess to you, 
 cousin Alice, my inferiority. T am not so much 
 wiser than the rest of this generation, as altogether 
 to defy supernatural beings. Perhaps if I were 
 as good as Richard and yourself, I might exhibit 
 more courage." 
 
 " Perhaps you might, my dear," replied the 
 youth calmly. "But as it is, we must intreat 
 Mrs. Ramsay to defer her frightful stories till 
 daylight." 
 
 " Ah ! and good reason," retorted Susan, " you 
 dare not hear them." 
 
 "Dare not?" repeated her brother contemptu 
 ously, " You shall see. Good woman I will save 
 you the trouble of describing these apartments," 
 and he moved with rapid steps towards the door 
 so mysteriously designated. But Richard was not 
 at heart ill-natured and the agonizing intreaties 
 of his sister at length prevailed. Perhaps too 
 some private misgivings of his own exerted their 
 due influence. Be this as it may, his character 
 
112 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 was vindicated, and he now again approached the 
 fireside. 
 
 " And now, Mrs. Ramsay, do tell us all about 
 it," continued Susan eagerly. " That mysterious 
 door. Where does it lead ?" 
 
 "Heaven knows," replied the old woman, de 
 voutly folding her eyelids. "Heaven knows 
 not I. So long as I have lived in this house, 
 which is two years this coming Thanksgiving, I 
 have never lifted the latch, and heaven forbid I 
 ever should. But I have seen it opened. Aye, 
 with my own bodily eyes have I seen it and that 
 too when the lock was turned and the key hang 
 ing above the mantel-piece, as plain as it does 
 at this moment." Mrs. Ramsay moved her chair 
 into the circle as she spoke, and Susan Leet drew 
 closer to her cousin. 
 
 " Did you see any one ?" inquired the latter in a 
 faultering voice. 
 
 " Aye, as plainly as I see you at this moment. 
 I saw a face like the face of a human being, 
 but pale and ghastly, and the eyes were sunk 
 en" 
 
 " Nay, Mrs. Ramsay, tell me no more of these 
 things," cried Susan, shuddering and turning to 
 Alice, who now indeed seemed herself to have 
 imbibed a portion of her own interest in the nar 
 ration. " Do, dear Alice, sing us a song, and let 
 us forget these horrible ideas." 
 
 The request was immediately complied with, 
 and Miss Weldon rejoiced in an opportunity of 
 diverting her own attention from the fearfully 
 fascinating narrative. The song selected was 
 one calculated to arouse a far different train of 
 association, and Richard soon found means to in 
 troduce subjects of conversation better suited to 
 
THE REGICIDES. 113 
 
 his own mirthful spirit. The evening now wore 
 away without further recurrence to the subject of 
 their apprehensions ; though an occasional glance 
 at the mysterious door, testified that Susan had 
 not entirely forgotten it. 
 
 It was now ten o clock. Richard had a few 
 minutes ago retired ; and the young ladies 
 drew their chairs more closely around the fire, 
 to enjoy for a few moments its delicious glow, 
 ere they ventured to brave the cold of their sleep 
 ing apartment. If there is one time when young 
 females are more prone to indulge in fanciful 
 reveries than another, it is certainly this, when 
 the ceaseless hum, the absorbing cares or plea 
 sures, of the day, are past, and they sit quietly 
 down to commune with their own wild and happy 
 thoughts, without fear or distraction. Ah, how 
 many lovely hopes have sprung up in the bright 
 ness of the winter s hearth, how many airy castles 
 have arisen to the eyes of beauty, and crumbled 
 and faded away, in its glowing crimson. But we 
 cannot transcribe the thoughts which now kindled 
 the eye of our heroine. It is a time when the 
 loved and the absent are remembered; and Alice 
 VVeldon would not have breathed, even to the 
 cousin whose arm was around her, the secret 
 hopes which her fancy then cherished. 
 
 But these reveries were now unexpectedly dis 
 turbed by the re-appearance of Mrs. Ramsay. 
 She came into the room with a hurried movement, 
 and Alice could not but think that there was a 
 singular expression on her features; but as she 
 seated herself silently by the fire, she forbore to 
 notice it. 
 
 " Do you hear that noise ?" exclaimed Susan, 
 after a few moment s silence, and directing as 
 10* 
 
114 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 she spoke, a surprised and terrified glance around 
 the apartment. " For several minutes I have 
 heard that strange sound. Say, Mrs. Ramsay, 
 can you tell me where it is ?" 
 
 " Not I," replied the old woman, while her 
 eye reflected back the whole quantum of terror 
 which Susan s had communicated, "Do you hear 
 it, Miss Weldon?" 
 
 In the interval of profound silence which now 
 ensued, Alice could indeed faintly distinguish a 
 sound like that of a human groan, as if echoing 
 along some distant passage. All eyes were now 
 fixed intently upon the mysterious door, until the 
 cheek of Alice Weldon became as pale as that of 
 her more timid companions. The low repeated 
 groan, seemed gradually to grow more distinct, 
 as the increased effort of attention rendered the 
 effect more powerful. 
 
 " Does Mr. Russel never enter these strange 
 apartments ? murmured Alice faintly. 
 
 " Ah, that he does ; and the more the sin, and 
 the shame say I, for him, a Christian minister." 
 
 " And do you believe," continued Alice, " that 
 so true and holy a man as your minister, would 
 have dealings with the spirits of evil ? Hark ! 
 Again ! Listen, Susan, that surely is the voice of 
 human suffering." 
 
 Susan had arisen in the extremity of her terror 
 and was now leaning, pale and almost breathless, 
 against the corner of the mantel-piece. Mrs. 
 Ramsay sat trembling beside her. " Are you 
 sure," continued Alice, glancing at the latter, 
 u that yonder key will indeed unlock this door?" 
 
 "Quite sure; I know it. But what would 
 you do with it, Miss Alice ?" she added in an al- 
 
THE REGICIDES. 1 15 
 
 tered tone, as the young lady calmly approached 
 and took it from its resting place. 
 
 "Alice, Alice Weldon, what would you do?" 
 cried Susan, casting on her cousin a look of ago 
 nized inquiry, as she stood for a moment gazing 
 thoughtfully towards the door. 
 
 " If it were not too bold a deed for a single girl, 
 Susan, I would open at once that mysterious 
 door. Oh, those fearful tones !" she added as 
 still another groan was borne on the air, " They 
 pierce my heart, I cannot stay here, when there 
 is a chance of relieving the sufferer. Say, Mrs. 
 Ramsay, does Margaret, does Madam Russel her 
 self ever enter those apartments?" 
 
 " So they say," replied Mrs. Ramsay, reluc 
 tantly. 
 
 kt Susan, I will never believe that Margaret 
 hath done aught beneath the character of a Chris 
 tian woman." 
 
 " Oh do not depend on that," replied her cous 
 in intreatingly, "dearest Alice, I assure you that 
 strange suspicions rested on her name, many 
 years ago, even before she left our village." 
 
 " But you forget Susan, that you are speaking 
 to her sister. Margaret is no more connected 
 with unearthly beings than I am at this moment." 
 
 Susan had. in the ardor of her emotion, laid her 
 hand upon her cousin s arm as if to prevent her 
 daring purpose, but at that moment she suddenly 
 withdrew it, as though those words had conveyed 
 to her some strange and fearful meaning; and 
 after gazing at her for a moment with an expres 
 sion which Alice could by no means comprehend, 
 she turned shuddering away from her. 
 
 " How can you, how dare you go?" said Mrs. 
 Ramsay, as the young lady slowly approached 
 
116 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 the door, for at that moment the sound of a dis 
 tant tread was clearly perceptible. Alice paused 
 for a moment, and then placing the key in the 
 lock, the next, the dreaded door was open be 
 fore her. 
 
 She now found herself standing at the head of 
 a rude staircase: and the light she held in her 
 hand, streamed upon it, sufficiently to make visi 
 ble the darkness of a narrow subterranean pas 
 sage beneath. The damp air from below sent a 
 sudden chill through her frame ; she paused a 
 moment, and throwing over her shoulders the 
 rich mantle which hung beside her, again set out 
 on her fearful errand. The staircase was steep 
 and difficult of descent, but her foot at length 
 rested on the flooring of earth below and she 
 moved quickly forward. The passage through 
 which she was now treading, was extremely nar- 
 now. A stone wall on either side bounded her 
 vision, and the fearful glances she directed 
 down the dimly lighted vault, were equally con 
 fined by an abrupt angle in the path before her. 
 But the undaunted girl still moved on ; and, in a 
 few moments more, she had reached the corner and 
 was rapidly turning it. At that instant there was 
 a sudden darkness. A gust of chill air from be 
 yond had extinguished her lamp. It was in vain 
 that she sought to rekindle the lingering spark, it 
 only expired the more readily and she now found 
 herself involved in total darkness. To return 
 from whence she came, and that with all possible 
 speed, was the first terrified impulse; but, in the 
 confusion of the moment, she had lost the direction 
 of the parlor, and had now no possible guide to 
 her steps. At that instant, there appeared a faint 
 light shining high in the aperture of a wall at 
 
THE REGICIDES. 117 
 
 some distance before her, forming what seemed 
 the outline of a door; but whether ^his would 
 conduct her again to the parlor, or to the myste 
 rious object of her search, was only a matter of 
 fearful conjecture. After groping for some time 
 in perfect silence, for the groans had now 
 entirely ceased, she found herself ascending 
 the ladder which led to the lighted apartment 
 above. Now there came from within the sound 
 of a heavy tread, and the young adventurer 
 paused but the life blood came back to her 
 heart again, and with it her dauntless purpose ; 
 the next moment, and she stood on the thresh- 
 hold above. The lock rattled to her touch 
 there was the sound of a turning key within, and 
 the door of the apartment opened wide before 
 her. Amid the sudden and painful rush of light, 
 a form of commanding grace stood before her, 
 and a dark and sorrowful eye rested sternly on 
 hers. She would have spoken, but the words 
 died on her lip; she leaned tremblingly upon 
 the wall, and at length there came a low and 
 brief apology; but the stranger still gazed as if 
 heedless of its import. If the idea of superna 
 tural agency had for a moment intruded while 
 groping through the darkness below, it all van 
 ished bjneath that silent gaze. There was a 
 touch of earth and its sorrows, on every object of 
 that lonely room, and her very soul was hushed 
 and awed, at the recollection that she had dared 
 to intrude upon its sacredness. 
 
 It was only a momentary glimpse indeed which 
 Alice directed to the objects of the apartment. 
 It contained no windows, the faint light of the 
 mouldering fire flickered upon the walls, and the 
 lamp burned dimly in its socket. A case of 
 
118 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 books stood near the door ; there was a low 
 table in the center of the apartment, and scatter 
 ed around it a few cushioned chairs with covers 
 of faded green. A couch stood near the fire, 
 of like ancient and worn materials, and here 
 indeed the quick glance of Alice rested. A wide 
 cloak fell carelessly over it, and its folds were 
 heaving to the low and quickened breathings of 
 human agony. It was no fancy then ; that deep 
 groan had borne its own true and fearful mean 
 ing, and there lay the suffering and dying one. 
 And yet the pity which had prompted the ef 
 fort, almost vanished amid the deep emotions 
 that now thrilled her heart. It was the face of 
 an old man, and very pale, the eyes were closed 
 as in slumber, and every feature was thin and 
 worn as if with long and bitter suffering. Yet 
 there was around those features the peaceful 
 beauty of holiness, a smile was on the thin and 
 faded lip, and in every furrow of that noble brow 
 were the records of the battle fought, the vic 
 tory won, and the diadem laid up above, in 
 corruptible and unfading ; it seemed as if the 
 brightness of heaven were near, and the agony 
 of earth almost ended. But Alice was still con 
 scious that the other inmate of the apartment 
 had not ceased to regard her with fixed and pain 
 ful earnestness. He was indeed silent, but a 
 strong flush, mantling high even among the 
 dark locks that shaded his temples, betrayed no 
 trivial emotion. 
 
 " Forgive my intrusion, sir," said Alice in low 
 and trembling tones, " it was not for idle curiosi 
 ty indeed, sir, I will prove that it was not ; only 
 tell me how I can in any way serve you, or" 
 
 The stranger was evidently about to speak, 
 
THE REGICIDES. 119 
 
 but at that moment a low and protracted groan 
 burst from the couch of the invalid. Though 
 the sound of heavy steps and opening doors, had 
 not aroused him from that deathlike lethargy; 
 the faint tones of that sweet and murmured voice, 
 seemed to have recalled him to the consciousness 
 of suffering his eye roamed wildly over the 
 apartment. In a moment his companion was be 
 side him gently bathing his temples, and evident 
 ly stifling his own deep sighs with words of con 
 solation. But there was no reply for the eye 
 of the invalid now rested on the spot where the 
 beautiful young stranger was leaning, her face 
 bright with emotion, and the drapery of her scar 
 let mantle streaming from her shoulders. There 
 was something irresistibly attractive in that be 
 seeching glance, and she almost unconsciously 
 drew near the couch. 
 
 "Now the blessing of the God of heaven be on 
 thee, my Isabel, my own lost and beautiful one," 
 said the old man in slow but unfaultering tones, 
 as Alice Weldon advanced towards him. I knew 
 thou wouldst not forsake us altogether. I told 
 thee, William, she would come again to us, 
 though it were only to soothe our dying moments 
 Give me thy hand, my sweet daughter Isabel, 
 let these eyes look once more on thee. Ah, once 
 more, for surely there is nothing else on earth 
 that I would not now close them on joyfully and 
 forever." 
 
 Alice cast upon the other a glance of anxious 
 inquiry, as she placed her fair hand in that of the 
 aged invalid. But there was nothing there, to 
 check her amazement; all that had appeared 
 strange and mysterious in the exclamations ot 
 the sufferer, seemed more than confirmed in his 
 
120 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 countenance. The old man still continued to 
 gaze wistfully upon her. 
 
 " Methinks the long years that have rolled so 
 wearily over us, have fallen but lightly on thee, 
 my noble daughter. I am old, and worn with 
 grief, and even William s dark locks are sprinkled 
 with snow ; but thou dost seem more young, and 
 far more blooming, than when we left thee in the 
 cave of the mountain. Say, Isabel, is it that 
 thou hast wandered free and happy among the 
 fresh breezes of the earth, that thine eye is so 
 bright, and thy cheek so blooming? But no no, 
 he added mournfully it cannot be. They told 
 me that my Isabel lay in the dark prisons be 
 yond the ocean." And he closed his eyes as if to 
 shut out the bewildering image. 
 
 A tear trembled in the eye of Alice, as, with a 
 loqk of earnest inquiry, she once more raised it 
 to the countenance of the stranger. " Tell me 
 your name, young maiden," exclaimed the latter 
 in a voice of uncontrollable emotion, " and haply 
 I may read you his meaning." 
 
 " they call me Alice Weldon," replied the 
 trembling girl, while a strong rush of associa 
 tions overpowered her spirit. 
 
 44 Then wonder not that visions of that be 
 loved one are kindled. Thy mother was his own 
 and only daughter, and thou art mine." There 
 was a moment of doubt of deep incredulous 
 wonder, and Alice gazed in silence. But the 
 springs of natural affection are hidden and mys 
 terious ; and it was not long ere she threw her 
 arm around the neck of him whom but now 
 she had deemed a stranger, calling him her fa 
 ther, and weeping over him with wild and pas- 
 
THE REGICIDES. Ul 
 
 sionate tenderness, as if from her earliest child 
 hood she had loved his name. 
 
 The old man seemed only in part to have com 
 prehended the recognition that had taken place ; 
 and his thoughts still wandered with painful earn- 
 nestness, to the memory of that heroic being 
 whose living image seemed before him. "Oh 
 I had prayed that I might see her again," he 
 murmured in weak and sunken tones," and I had 
 forgotten that the illusions of earth are not yet 
 over." 
 
 Only half an hour had elapsed since Alice had 
 departed on her mysterious expedition, when she 
 again found herself traversing the subterranean 
 passage. There seemed a perfect silence within 
 the little parlor as she ascended the staircase, only 
 the ticking of the clock was plainly perceptible. 
 Mrs. Ramsay was sitting precisely in the same 
 place as when she had left her, niul close beside 
 her was Susan whose; countenance exhibited the 
 same emotion as before, save that there was an 
 expression of even deeper terror in her eye as it 
 glanced upon the opening door. Alice instant 
 ly perceived, that during her absence, the party 
 had received a singular addition. On the oppo 
 site side of the fire sat a stranger, a tall and ele 
 gantly proportioned female. She wore a pelisse 
 and bonnet of rich black velvet, and a ribbon 
 of the same hue, fastened around her throat with 
 a small diamond clasp. The lady had evidently 
 passed the noon of life ; and here and there a 
 solitary line of silver mingled among the dark 
 hair that was parted on her forehead. Her face 
 seemed throughout of the pure and colorless tint 
 of marble; and so perfectly regular was the con 
 tour of her features, that it seemed rather like 
 11 
 
122 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 some exquisite production of the chisel, than 
 like a form of life and motion. A faint smile 
 lingered on her lip ; and there was a certain 
 wildness and indescribable sweetness of expres 
 sion in the brilliancy of her soft dark eye, as it 
 beamed upon the admiring Alice. 
 
 The young lady waited a moment, as if for 
 some introduction to this stranger, but there was 
 an uninterrupted silence; and a meaning glance 
 at that moment interchanged between Mrs. Ram 
 say and her cousin, suddenly convinced her that 
 she was to them an object of aversion and fear. 
 There were no inquiries as to the success of her 
 errand; and she now sat down, without attempt 
 ing to interrupt the awkward silence. 
 
 Several minutes had elapsed, and Alice was 
 still vainly endeavoring to account for the ap 
 pearance of the stranger at this untimely hour, 
 when a sudden and startling knock on the out 
 er door diffused a general thrill throughout the 
 company. Susan started up hastily, and seizing 
 a mantle from the chair beside her, stood re 
 solutely, as if prepared for any emergency. 
 
 "Where are you going?" said her cousin in 
 surprise. 
 
 "To take up my abode with Christian people, 
 for the night, if indeed there are any such in the 
 vicinity. No, Alice, you need not urge me," 
 continued the young lady with a flush of indig 
 nant spirit, "I would not stay in this house ano 
 ther hour, even if you would tie around my neck 
 that golden charm which gives you so much 
 courage. Do you see," she added in a whisper 
 to Mrs. Ramsay, " how that strange being s eye 
 flashes at the very name of a charm." 
 
 " Are you not going to the door, Mrs. Ram- 
 
THE REGICIDES. 123 
 
 say?" continued Alice, without replying to her 
 cousin, for at that moment another loud and ra 
 pid knock intimated the impatience of those 
 without. 
 
 " Not I, ma am," replied the resolute dame, 
 gathering courage. " Gentle or simple, they 
 must e en wait till morning we ve queer com 
 ers enough for the night already." And she 
 cast a timid and suspicious glance upon the 
 stranger. "At least," she added in an under 
 tone, "if worse comes to worse, there s a kind 
 of people that can e en come through the key 
 hole." 
 
 The stranger was evidently embarrassed, she 
 looked earnestly for a moment upon the young 
 ladies, upon each alternately, and seemed about 
 to speak; but a third knock, more violent than 
 either of the preceding, now rang through the 
 building. 
 
 "It is a bitter night, Mrs. Ramsay," said Alice, 
 rising hastily and seizing a light from the shelf. 
 It would sound ill too, that a traveler had perish 
 ed at the minister s door for want of a hand to 
 open it," and casting as she passed, a single and 
 earnestglance upon the dark eyed stranger, she pro 
 ceeded through the narrow hall to the outer door 
 of the dwelling. After some little embarrass 
 ment, the bar was at length removed, the key 
 turned, and the door thrown open. 
 
 "For the love of mercy," exclaimed a tall and 
 closely muffled traveler, who stood knocking his 
 boots against the stones, in the extremity of his 
 impatience, but the words died quickly away; 
 and the next moment, the hand of Alice Weldon 
 was grasped in his, a tone of joyful greeting rung 
 in her ear, and he who had dared for her the deep, 
 
124 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 and the dangers of a foreign clime, and the pride 
 and grandeur of a princely court, was standing 
 once more beside her. 
 
 " And now do I claim my reward," cried Hen 
 ry Davenport, as they entered the parlor together, 
 for Mrs. Ramsay and Susan had made good their 
 retreat ; but the stranger still sat by the fire. 
 
 "The condition," replied the young lady in a 
 low and agitated voice, her eye glancing upon 
 the stranger with a look of trembling interest. 
 A bright flush was kindling on that pale cheek, 
 and the wild and joyful meaning of that beam 
 ing eye was no longer a mystery. The next 
 moment, Alice Weldon lay folded in that lady s 
 arms, the warm tears of a mother s love were 
 on her cheek, the rich music of a mother s voice 
 fell on her ear ; and dreams, and fears, and wish 
 es, were all faded in one bright reality. The 
 tale of mystery was soon unravelled ; and though 
 the kindness which had sought to shield her 
 from the misfortunes of her family was not un 
 appreciated, a tide of deeper pleasure filled her 
 spirit, when she learned that he who had that 
 night folded her in a father s embrace, was 
 none other than the noble outcast, whose sto 
 ry of high devotion had so often kindled her 
 fancy. 
 
 Isabel Goffe had not in vain, sixteen years 
 since, summoned up the strength of woman s 
 courage, for a hopeless and almost desperate 
 effort. Her errand across the deep had not 
 been in vain. Long years had indeed been 
 wasted in the silence of her prison walls, until 
 the beautiful and smiling infant whose memory 
 had gladened its loneliness, could scarcely be re 
 cognized, even by a mother s eye, in the elegant 
 
THE REGICIDES. 125 
 
 and graceful being who now hung over her. But 
 it was not in vain. The eloquence of the wife and 
 daughter at last prevailed even at the foot of the 
 English throne ; and she now came with an assu 
 rance of secret pardon to the sorrowing exiles. 
 Was it then too late ? Oh no it was a moment 
 worth ages of the heartless existence of many whom 
 the world call happy, when the heroic Isabel 
 kneeled that night in the lone chamber of 
 death. And a nobler and costlier legacy than 
 the gold of Peru, was in those words of blessing, 
 with which the tried spirit of her father, at last 
 burst away free and happy to its home in heaven, 
 
 Three months after these occurrences, the 
 beautiful house and grounds of the deceased Mrs. 
 Wilmot, were purchased by an English gentle 
 man of fortune, recently arrived in the colony of 
 New-Haven. Walter Goldsmith, (for such was 
 the name of the new comer,) was a man of com 
 manding person and manners, much esteemed 
 among the inhabitants for his benevolence, the 
 high and pure morality of his life, and more than 
 all for those strong principles of holiness, which 
 evidently formed the springs of his existence. He 
 was however reserved, and somewhat unsocial in 
 his habits, and seemed almost exclusively devoted 
 to the happiness of an extremely amiable and 
 beautiful wife, who had accompanied him to his 
 new residence. 
 
 Little was known, among the colonists, of the 
 former condition of the emigrants. They were 
 supposed, however, to have been in some way 
 connected with the deceased Mrs. Wilmot, as 
 her favorite niece resided wholly in their family. 
 Alice Weldon indeed addressed them by the en 
 dearing appellations of parents, and certainly 
 
126 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 there are few stronger attachments than that 
 which was here mutually exhibited. It was also 
 noticed by some, that there was a striking simi 
 larity of person between Miss Weldon and her 
 beautiful adopted mother. The mystery however 
 was never duly investigated ; the extreme reserve 
 of Mrs. Goldsmith s manners on this and many 
 other subjects, prevented those communications 
 which might have been desired. 
 
 Henry Davenport obtained, the ensuing au 
 tumn, the hand of the lovely Miss Weldon; but 
 as her new guardians refused to be separated from 
 the object of their affection, he concluded, at 
 their earnest solicitation, to establish himself be 
 neath the same roof. 
 
 It was not until many years after, when at the 
 close of a long and happy life, Walter Goldsmith 
 was laid by the grave of the regicide, and only 
 the simple initials, W. G. appeared on the rude 
 tombstone which marked his resting place, that a 
 secret report prevailed through the village, that 
 he was other than he had seemed, and that the 
 name of Goldsmith had long concealed among 
 them the family of the devoted and high souled 
 Goffe. 
 
THE FAIR PILGRIM. 
 
THE 
 
 FAIR PILCiRIJI. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 As lovely a morning as ever rose on the loveli 
 ness of an English village, was tinging, with its 
 rosy light, the cottages and magnificent turrets 
 
 that adorned the valley of D . Doubtless, 
 
 to some, the appellation of village suggests 
 only the picture of one of those smiling groups 
 of human dwellings, which adorn our American 
 landscapes, nothing, however, could differ more 
 widely from the presentscene. Not only the castle, 
 the chapel, and the shady park appeared in their 
 ancient grandeur, as the monuments of aristocra 
 tic pride and power; but for miles around the 
 humble cottages of the villagers, nay, even their 
 inhabitants were nearly all only so many appen 
 dages to the dignity of the one noble family, 
 whose residence graced the vale. Among the 
 few houses which appeared to maintain an 
 independent existence, there was one, which, 
 from the neatness of its structure, and the 
 beauty of the surrounding grounds, was well 
 fitted to excite attention. It was situated at 
 
130 THE FAIR PILGRIM. 
 
 a considerable distance from the castle, in the 
 midst of a beautiful coppice. Behind it rose 
 a high, wooded bank, and the verdure which 
 enameled the turf in the shady walk, was every 
 where enriched and deepened by the meanderings 
 of a brook, whose blue wave, here and there, 
 gleamed up from among the trees. Every cir 
 cumstance which renders rural life beautiful, 
 seemed here to exist in delightful combination. 
 Nature s melody was not wanting. The voices 
 of birds were uttered low and sweet from the 
 boughs, the bleating of lambs on the hill, the 
 notes of a thousand bright insects, and the mur 
 murs of the little brook, all came on the ear in 
 rich and mingled music. The house was of wood, 
 large and neatly painted ; but the ivy which had 
 crept over the porch, and the moss which had 
 here and there overgrown the sloping roof, gave 
 it a venerable air. 
 
 The windows of one of the front apartments 
 were thrown open, and amid the grateful coolness 
 which pervaded it, several elderly men of dignified 
 and respectable appearance sat eagerly convers 
 ing together. 
 
 " Sir Richard, did you mention aught to the 
 king concerning the charter ?" said one who lean 
 ed upon the window seat. 
 
 " The subject," replied the baronet, " was but 
 slightly touched upon. I deemed it impolitic to 
 urge the matter as yet, for I saw that the im 
 pious Laud, that most cruel enemy of the Puri 
 tans, watched my steps. But Strafford is on our 
 side. He cares not whether we die or prosper, 
 so he doth but gain gold and honor for himself. 
 He hath promised me that he will favor our peti- 
 tition, when a fitting opportunity presents. Mean- 
 
THE FAIR PILGRIM. 131 
 
 while, my brethren," continued the baronet, "let 
 us render thanksgiving that this great and diffi 
 cult undertaking of ours, doth seem so nearly ac 
 complished. The proprietary grant hath been 
 easily and firmly secured. The ships are pre 
 pared for departure, nnd as far as our resources 
 have allowed, fitted out with all things needful 
 for so perilous a journey. All that remaineth is 
 that you, my brethren, do gird on your spiritual 
 armor and go forth to your work." 
 
 The silence which succeeded this declaration 
 remained for some time uninterrupted. The 
 emotions it had excited were too deep for words, 
 and each spirit seeme-l qu-etly searching its own 
 mysterious depths, for those treasures of strength, 
 and that holiness of. purpose, which their noble 
 enterprise demanded. 
 
 "It is time, then, that the day of departure 
 should be appointed," said one after some minutes 
 silence. 
 
 "Three days from this, if it seems fitting to 
 you all," replied vSir "Richard Saltonstall. " What 
 say you, Endicott? 5 
 
 "It is well, S r Richard. Our plans admit of 
 little delay; but, Wilson," he added, turning to 
 the gentleman by the window, "can your scat 
 tered flock so soon be gathered together ?" 
 
 "They are all at this rn< ment, apprised of a 
 s-peedy departure, and are, T doubt not, ready for 
 the summons. And yet not all," he continued 
 hesitatingly, " One tender lamb of the fold is as 
 yet ignorant of our pnrp 
 
 "And why? -.Claimed the baronet, in sur 
 prise. " Wh--n t! f mercies hath open 
 ed so clear and /nth for his people, 
 why should man presume to veil its light ? 
 
132 THE FAIR PILGRIM. 
 
 Reverend Sir, you say the lamb is a tender one, 
 will you leave it to the ravening wolves that are 
 now spoiling God s heritage ?" 
 
 " Sir Richard," replied the clergyman calmly, 
 "she of whom I speak, hath stronger ties than we 
 to bind her here. As for us, our wives and our 
 children are going with us ; but she must leave 
 kindred as well as home. She must come forth 
 not from the shadows of the Presbyterian faith, but 
 from amid the clouds and darkness of this pom 
 pous hierarchy. Sir Richard, I know that the 
 lady serves God in purity of spirit, and her heart 
 is with his people, but she hath been bred amid 
 the splendor and luxury of a magnificent home, 
 and the first spring flower is not more frail and 
 delicate. And you will better comprehend my 
 meaning, when I tell you that the lady Eveline, 
 the daughter of the noble Earl who dwells in yon 
 der castle, is the one of whom I speak." 
 
 There was an expression of universal surprise 
 as tne clergyman said these words. " But, Wil 
 son," exclaimed Sir Richard, " the Earl, her father, 
 is the friend of our arch enemy, the bigoted and 
 persecuting primate. Doth he permit his daugh 
 ter the indulgence of her religious principles ?" 
 
 " I fear not," replied the clergyman, shaking 
 his head sorrowfully. " The lady is compelled to 
 join in rites and ceremonies which her soul ab 
 hors, and I have often heard her long for the green 
 pastures, and still waters, where none might make 
 her afraid." 
 
 " And yet," said Endicott, reproachfully, " you 
 refused to lead her beside them. My brother, 
 you have done what to my feeble vision seems 
 wrong. You should have told the lady your 
 
THE FAIR PILGRIM. 
 
 purpose, and the God whom she hath chosen, 
 would have been her counselor." 
 
 "I have perhaps been too much guided by 
 my own wisdom," replied the pastor, " and God 
 may choose to prove it foolishness. Brethren, 
 do you counsel me, even now, to apprise the lady 
 of our departure?" 
 
 " We do, we do," exclaimed several voices at 
 once. "Heaven will point to her the path in 
 which she should go?" 
 
 "Then," continued Mr. Wilson, " I will this 
 moment forward a message which shall convey to 
 her the necessary intelligence. Sir Richard, you 
 know the lady well. \Viil you not yourself indite 
 the epistle ?" and he arranged on the table before 
 him the materials for writing. 
 
 "But," replied Saltonstall, " is there any one 
 beneath your roof, who would venture to place it 
 in the hand of the Lady Eveline ? The task, me- 
 thinks would be an extremely difficult one." 
 
 " It would, Sir Richard. Nevertheless I will 
 seek to provide you with a messenger. There is 
 but one to whom I could trust the embassy," 
 and as he spoke the clergyman left the apart 
 ment. 
 
 Just as the baronet had completed his task, a 
 graceful girl with a sweet and modest counte 
 nance, opened the door, and approached with a 
 sort of hesitating air the table by which he wrote. 
 A loose scarf was thrown over her neat and sim 
 ple dress, and a bonnet in part concealed her 
 features. She blushed, and paused a moment. 
 " My father told me, sir, you had a message to 
 one of the ladies of the castle. Shall I carry it 
 thither?" 
 
 " Sir Richard was folding the letter, and he 
 12 
 
134 THE FAIR PILGRIM. 
 
 cast on her a benignant glance. " Ellen Wilson, 
 you are kind in offering to perform this duty. 
 But have you ever seen the noble sisters of the 
 castle? For remember, you must p ace the note 
 in the lady Eveline s own hand." 
 
 "I once saw them both," replied Ellen, "it is 
 two years since, but I can remember them at this 
 moment as though it were but yesterday. They 
 had lost themselves in a ramble on our hill, and 
 I led them through the coppice. But the lady 
 Eveline was much taller than her sister, and her 
 tone and look were both so different from the 
 other s, I am sure I could not mistake her even 
 now." 
 
 " And do not return, my child," said Sir Rich 
 ard, as he placed the letter in her hand, " until 
 the lady hath read the epistle, for she will doubt 
 less give you her reply," 
 
 The heart of Ellen Wilson beat with an un 
 wonted violence, as after a long and pleasant 
 walk, she found herself standing within the en 
 closure which surrounded the castle. Though 
 her whole life had been past within half an hour s 
 walk of the place, she had never but once before 
 ventured within these noble domains, and that 
 was in her early childhood. The mother of the 
 noble sisters, who had now long slept in the tomb, 
 was then a young and beautiful matron ; and the 
 affectionate kiss which she had here imprinted on 
 the cheek of the little wanderer, was at this mo 
 ment distinctly remembered. But other and 
 more agitating reflections, soon presented them 
 selves. Aside from the appalling grandeur of the 
 place, and the high rank of those upon whom she 
 was about to intrude, the heart of the simple girl 
 
THE FAIR PILGRIM. 135 
 
 was awed with the recollection of her errand, and 
 its probable effects. 
 
 She had come to invite the daughter of that 
 proud Earl, openly to renounce the faith of her 
 lather, her rank, her home, and all that she held 
 dear, and to become a pilgrim to a distant wilder 
 ness. But it was no time for iaultering purposes; 
 and the heart of Ellen Wilson had lately been 
 taught to lay aside, together with the indulgence 
 of earthly hope, that fear which bringeth a snare, 
 and after requesting of the porter who opened the 
 inner gate, permission to speak with the lady 
 Eveline, she soon found herself traversing with 
 haste, the immense halls of the castle. These 
 were furnished in a style of ancient and costly 
 magnificence, and she could scarce refrain from 
 pausing to return the gaze of the fine pictured 
 countenances, which now in rapid succession met 
 her eye. At last the servant paused, and throwing 
 open the door of a splendid apartment bade her 
 enter. 
 
 A hasty glance assured her that she was not yet 
 in the presence of the noble inhabitants of the 
 castle, and the servant, after informing her that 
 he would immediately communicate to the lady 
 Eveline her request, left the room through a door 
 which commucicated with a still larger apartment. 
 For the moment which it remained open, she had 
 caught a glimpse of several forms within, and 
 the sound of their voices at the same time met 
 her ear. In a few moments, the servant again 
 appeared. 
 
 "The lady is at this time engaged. Her bro 
 ther and the Marquis of B have just returned 
 
 from London, and she is now in their presence. 
 In less than an hour," he added, " she may be 
 
136 THE FAIR PILGRIM. 
 
 ready to see you. You can wait for her in this 
 apartment." 
 
 The condition seemed so slight in comparison 
 with an entire denial, that Ellen concluded with 
 out hesitation to accept of it. Just as the servant 
 had again left the room, a sound of near voices 
 caused her to raise her eye, and she perceived 
 with surprise, that the door from which he had 
 last entered, still remained partly open. A dis 
 tinct view of the persons within, at once presented 
 itself. 
 
 The lofty walls were adorned with the richest 
 tapestry which ancient art could produce. Im 
 mense mirrors, superb sofas and tables, the rich 
 damask curtains, all burst with the imposing grace 
 of novelty upon her bewildered eye, and even the 
 pure light of heaven itself seemed to have caught 
 a strange voluptuousness, as it stole in rosy beams 
 through the richly colored glass. 
 
 An elderly man whom Ellen at once recognised 
 as the proprietor of this noble dwelling, was near 
 one of the windows. On the same sofa sat a 
 young cavalier gaily and fashionably dressed, and 
 another still whom she knew to be the young heir 
 of D , was pacing the floor. 
 
 But objects of far higher interest than these, 
 soon met her eye. Seated on a low sofa in a 
 distant part of the room, the two beautiful ladies 
 of the castle appeared, engaged in that branch of 
 needle-work which was then deemed a meet oc 
 cupation, for females of high rank and fortune. 
 They were both apparently very young and from 
 any thing in their appearance, it would have 
 been difficult to have determined which was the 
 elder. One was taller and fairer than the other, 
 and as her head bent over the embroidery frame } 
 
THE FAIR PILGRIM. 137 
 
 the bright brown hair, parted away from behind, 
 fell curling beautifully over the snowy arch of her 
 long and graceful neck. There was a fresh bloom 
 on the cheek of both the maidens, but that on the 
 countenance of the taller was not so vivid as the 
 other s, and her lip too had a pale and rosy hue 
 in comparison with the full bright coral of her 
 sister s, and in her eye, and on her brow, and 
 over her whole mien, there were the marks of an 
 unfettered and noble spirit, which Ellen knew to 
 be none other than the lady Eveline s. 
 
 The voice of the Earl now caught her attention. 
 
 " Any more news, at court, my son? The puri- 
 ritans how prosper they ? Hath our worthy pre 
 late given any new proofs of zeal against these 
 heretics ?" 
 
 "No, but Charles has given new proofs of his 
 folly," replied the youth hastily. "It is rumored 
 that to the most hypocritical and ranting get of 
 them all, he is about to convey a charter transfer 
 ring the powers of government from the Grand 
 Council of Plymouth to the colonists themselves." 
 
 " What colonists, what mean you, George?" 
 rejoined the Earl with a look of impatient sur 
 prise. " Do you speak of the Plymouth colony ? " 
 
 "No, my Lord," replied the young Marquis, 
 " he refers to a more extensive scheme of folly 
 which Sir Richard Saltonsall has lately project 
 ed. It seems that the honest puritans are at 
 length wearied of the good offices of the Arch 
 bishop, and intend making their escape to Ame 
 rica, to join their Plymouth brethren. Saltonstall 
 has lately purchased a large tract of the Grand 
 Council and is about to despatch thither a fresh 
 cargo of hypocrites." 
 
 "And why," rejoined the Earl angrily, "is the 
 12* 
 
138 THE FAIR PILGRIM. 
 
 Duke of Lenox so desirous of establishing this 
 hated religion in the very heart of his pos 
 sessions? One would think the colony already 
 there, enough to give a godly savor to the land. * 
 
 "Ah," replied the young nobleman "I believe 
 the council are quite in despair concerning their 
 great territories, and willing to part with them 
 as they best can," but continued he, " my Lord 
 you need not fear their increase. You could not 
 have placed them in a better place. If all tales 
 are true, the bears and Indians will soon cool their 
 enthusiasm. I fancy the Archbishop himself 
 could never have found a more effectual method." 
 
 "You say truly," replied the Earl with bitter 
 ness. " A better place could not have been 
 found for them ; and when you have dealt as 
 long with these stubborn rebels as myself, you 
 will not need to be told that the more they are 
 persecuted, the more they flourish." 
 
 " And may not this, my father, indicate the 
 goodness of their cause ?" said the lady Eveline, 
 as she raised her flushed countenance from her 
 work. 
 
 A thousand pardons, my blessed little puri 
 tan," exclaimed her brother, hastily approaching 
 her. "I certainly forgot your presence. And 
 you, my Lord," he continued turning to the 
 young nobleman, " come and kneel, as you val 
 ue the lady s favor." 
 
 A frown of displeasure at the same time gather 
 ed on the countenance of the Earl. " A young 
 female who is wiser than all her relatives, is sure 
 ly an object worthy of admiration ; but, Eveline, 
 why not place the climax to your devotion by 
 joining this pious pilgrimage ?" 
 
 "And if I should," replied the lady calmly, 
 
THE FAIR PILGRIM. 139 
 
 "I should only exhibit a f;ir less noble example 
 of devotedness, than did those holy females who 
 are already enduring the hardships of the wil 
 derness." 
 
 "But surely, Lady Eveline," said the Marquis, 
 " you do not mean to say that you favor the 
 opinions of the Puritans ?" 
 
 "Even more;" replied the lady while a pale 
 blush suffused her countenance, " I have made 
 their opinions my own." 
 
 " And it is a part of your religion, I presume," 
 exclaimed her father angrily, " to disgrace those 
 who have the misfortune to be connected with 
 you, by the avowal of your creed." 
 
 The indignant glow of a proud spirit for a 
 moment colored the lady s cheek, but there 
 was evidently some controlling principle within, 
 which forbade the indulgence of earthly pas 
 sions ; for ere she had essayed to reply to her 
 father s words, the flush was gone, and instead of 
 it a smile of heavenly sweetness, such as became 
 a follower of the " lowly in heart." " I cannot, 
 my father, indeed, I cannot refuse a portion 
 of the obloquy which rests upon my religion. 
 Would it not be ungenerous, for me to deny my 
 principles, because I feared the disgrace attach 
 ed to them ?" 
 
 " I admire the Lady Eveline s spirit," exclaim 
 ed the young Marquis witii animation. "I deem 
 it unfair, my Lord, to quarrel with any religion 
 whose precepts distil upon us in such gentle 
 glances and from such lips as just now pleaded 
 for the puritans. I fear I shall become a puritan 
 myself, if I linger long in this fair presence. Say 
 George, is it not dangerous ?" 
 
 "Disturb me not," said the youth, in a tone of 
 
140 THE FAIR PILGRIM. 
 
 affected pathos, as he stood with his eyes fixed 
 upon the lady, "I am even now painting to my 
 self the form of the fair devotee wandering about 
 among the caves and mountains of the new world. 
 But, my beloved sister :hou must lay aside the 
 needle from those small and lily hands of thine, 
 for to my best knowledge the heroines of Ameri 
 ca do wield the hoe instead thereof, and thou 
 must doff that costly robe, simple and plain 
 though it be, did not the martyrs of old wander 
 forth in sheep skins, and goat skins? And that 
 coronal of pearls, that shines so brightly among 
 thy tresses, it is not good. Do we not hear of 
 the holy women of old, how they sought to adorn 
 themselves not with gold and pearls and costly 
 array" 
 
 " Would to heaven, George," exclaimed the 
 lady interrupting him, " that I had instead there 
 of the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit," and 
 then again repressing the bright crimson which 
 mantled her cheek, she bent her head over the 
 frame to conceal the tear of wounded feeling. 
 
 But there appeared to Ellen something pecu 
 liarly touching in the idea which the young no 
 bleman had expressed in such tones of irony. 
 There was a frailty, an exquisite delicacy in the 
 form and features of the noble girl and an air of 
 elegance in her simple and costly attire, which 
 seemed all unmeet for the trials which she doubt 
 ed not would soon be her portion. 
 
 The Lady Julia had, till now, borne no part 
 in this agitating conversation ; but on catching 
 a sudden glimpse of her sister s moistened eye, a 
 look of tenderness lighted her countenance. "I 
 pray you forgive us, my noble brother," she ex 
 claimed, looking coldly upon the young Lord, 
 
THE FAIR PILGRIM. 141 
 
 " if we do not duly admire your costly politeness. 
 My sister and myself have H-ved much in retire 
 ment of late, and scarce know how to appreciate 
 the lofty polish which the court of Charles has 
 given you. I pray you forgive us." The beau 
 tiful lip of the young lady curled with an expres 
 sion of disdain and after speaking a moment to 
 her sister in a low voice, they rose together and 
 left the apartment. 
 
 There was silence for several moments, after 
 the door had closed upon them, and when at 
 length it was interrupted by the Earl ; the voice 
 was so low that Ellen could scarcely distinguish 
 his words. She was just indulging in a feeling 
 of secret impatience, when the sound of a light 
 tread caught her ear, and turning, she beheld ap 
 proaching from a distant door, the tall, light fig 
 ure of the Lady Eveline. She came close to the 
 blushing girl and her tone was low and sweet. 
 
 " I was told that you waited to speak with me, 
 young maiden. Am I mistaken ? But if it is 
 aught of a private nature," she added, casting 
 a sudden glance at the open door, while Ellen 
 hastened to present the letter, " this is no fit 
 ting place for it. Will you come with me ?" 
 Ellen rose, and after following the footsteps of 
 the young lady through ;i long suite of apart 
 ments, they stood at last in an elegant reading 
 room, the favorite resort of the young Eveline. 
 "And now you may speak freely," she said, as 
 she placed her chair by the side of a small ma 
 hogany table at the same time seating herself 
 near her, " I believe I know you already. Are 
 you not Ellen Wilson the same who once gave 
 us such a fine ramble in the coppice? 5 
 
 Ellen replied in the affirmative, and placed the 
 
142 THE FAIR PILGRIM. 
 
 letter of Sir Richard in her hand. The lady un 
 folded it, and glanced slowly over its contents. 
 But as she proceeded, a new and sudden light 
 seemed to kindle in her blue eye, the paleness of 
 her brow extended itself over the whole counte 
 nance. And when, at length, she slowly folded 
 it again with an appearance of assumed compo 
 sure so colorless was her lip and cheek, that El 
 len feared each moment to see her fall fainting 
 from her chair. But still the paper remained in 
 her hand, and she seemed pressing its folds with 
 greater exactness. " Madam, the news which 
 this letter conveys are sudden and strange. It 
 has come upon me unawares. My faith is weak, 
 and 1 dreamed not that it would so soon be put 
 to the test. Three days from this, if I read aright, 
 the pilgrims set sail. The time is short too 
 short for all I have to do. I fear, Ellen Wilson, 
 I cannot so soon give up all I love." 
 
 "You need not, dear lady," said Ellen, in a 
 timid voice, "He whom you have not long loved 
 better than all others, will still be with you. 
 Lady Eveline is not his grace sufficient for you?" 
 
 "Surely, Ellen, your father is of the puri 
 tans," replied the lady gazing with admiration 
 upon her fresh and smiling countenance. "And 
 you are going forth to danger and suffering with 
 a cheerful spirit. Oh that I also might have 
 grace to do the will of my heavenly Father joy 
 fully. 
 
 There was an expression of agony on the pale 
 face of the noble maiden, and Ellen dared not 
 witness that fearful conflict of feeling. "Lady," 
 she said, " God himself will make you know your 
 duty. Methinks it cannot be his will that you 
 should thus abandon your home and kindred." 
 
THE FAIR PILGRIM. 143 
 
 There was still another pause, and then the la 
 dy rose. "Ellen Wilson, come to me again to 
 morrow evening at sunset, and I will tell you my 
 decision." Ellen felt the pressure of her hand 
 in parting, it was cold and moist, and trembled 
 violently ; she could scarcely refrain from tears, 
 as she followed the servant through the long and 
 splendid apartments, and remembered the agony 
 of their beautiful mistress. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 " Their dauntless hearts no meteor led 
 
 In terror o er the ocean, 
 From fortune and from fame they fled 
 To heaven and its devotion." 
 
 THE alarming paleness which the countenance 
 of the Lady Eveline exhibited during the remain 
 der of the day, was a subject of much remark in 
 the castle ; and the bitterness with which the 
 young Marquis reproached her brother for his un 
 kind jesting, showed that his interest in the lady s 
 peace was of a peculiar nature. What rendered 
 her melancholy still more touching, was an ap 
 parent and studied effort on her part to appear 
 with her usual cheerfulness. 
 
 On the afternoon of the second day, the lady 
 after having with much difficulty escaped from 
 the gay company below, appeared pacing with a 
 quick and agitated step the floor of that lofty gal 
 lery which terminated in the sleeping apartment 
 of the sisters. The time which had been ap 
 pointed for making known her decision was al 
 most arrived, and as yet nothing but a succession 
 of dark and agonized feelings had crossed her 
 mind an indistinct impression of stern duty 
 urging her to the renunciation of every earthly 
 hope. But she felt that it was wrong it was 
 not what the mighty decision before her demand- 
 
THE FAIR PILGRIM. 145 
 
 d ; and she now entered her apartment and 
 closed the door with a firm resolution that she 
 would calmly and dispassionately listen to the 
 still small voice of truth, and come no more out, 
 until she had fully resolved whether the earth was 
 henceforth to be to her a wilderness, and the 
 voice of sister, kindred, and the home of her 
 childhood, with all the hopes of a gay and beauti 
 ful imagination, were henceforth to be to her but 
 as remembered dreams. The lady felt that her soul 
 was weakened with the pressure of sorrow, and 
 she sought for a portion of the undying energy of 
 Him who " fainteth not, neither is weary." And 
 was it for her to withold from God the influence 
 of her high name, was it for her, in the pride of 
 human greatness, to turn away from Him who now 
 spake as it were from heaven, demanding the ex 
 ample of her faith, her exertions and her whole 
 life for the honor of his despised and afflicted 
 church, whose name was a reproach among her 
 people ? And was it for her on whom the deep 
 vow was resting, to live not for herself nor for 
 the few fleeting days of time, but for the vast, 
 shadowless and immortal existence beyond, was 
 it for her to cling with fond affection around the 
 elegances and endearments of her home ? that 
 home too where her religion was a by-word and 
 whose strong influences were hourly urging her 
 from heaven and holiness? 
 
 The prayer had not been vainly said, and amid 
 weeping and untold agony, the beautiful lady of 
 
 D at last resolved to give up all for God. 
 
 And now a light burst in upon her spirit, calm and 
 peaceful as the light of heaven. She thought of 
 her sister, her beloved Julia, dearer to her than 
 her own soul, her motherless sister; she thought 
 13 
 
146 THE FAIR PILGRIM. 
 
 of her as the companion of her childhood, the 
 friend of her youth, and all around her were me 
 morials of their love. Her eye glanced over the 
 apartment which for long years they had shared 
 together, and she thought of the ocean which 
 would soon roll between their pillows. But the 
 agony which for a moment dimmed her eye, 
 caused no faultering of purpose ; and the fra 
 grance of her bruised and broken affections only 
 arose in richer sacrifice to the will of heaven. 
 
 She thought of an eternal farewell to the home 
 of her childhood, of a father s and brother s lust 
 embrace ; and, not least of all, was remembered 
 the surrender she was to make of the affections 
 of the high bom and generous youth now in the 
 castle, whose tones and glances had so often as 
 sured her of his love. But still there was no faul 
 tering of purpose. The heart of the maiden did 
 not refuse to suffer affliction with the people of 
 God ; for she remembered One who for her sake 
 had undergone deeper sorrows than these. Nei 
 ther were the dark nights of tempest on the ocean 
 forgotten, nor the untold horrors of famine, sick 
 ness and death on that distant shore, but a 
 courage not her own, imbued her spirit. 
 
 The trial was almost over, and now there came 
 to the kindled and enlightened fancy of the 
 young Christian, dreams of unutterable blessed 
 ness, bright visions from the calm and distant 
 homes which God prepares for those that love 
 him, and the embrace of an endearing love, 
 stronger than death, and though she knew 
 that instead of the high and joyful enthusiasm 
 which the sublimity of her resolution had impart- 
 ted, in place of this glad victory of holy feelings 
 there would come the hour of long ungladened 
 
THE FAIR PILGRIM. 147 
 
 and painful exertions, still her soul was comforted 
 with the thought of bcr last glorious rest in heav 
 en. The long vista of futurity seemed open be- 
 "fore her, and with a kindling eye she trod the 
 apartment, till the might and grandeur of earth 
 had passed away, and the lofty halls of her fa 
 thers crumbled with years, and the ivy and the 
 moss had mantled their ruins, and she beheld a 
 free and glorious nation bright with the light of 
 heaven s own truth, planted by the exertions of 
 that pilgrim band, who now, amid weakness and 
 sorrow and fear, were about to traverse the deep. 
 Surely a low grave among them on that dis 
 tant shore, was far more noble than a resting 
 place in the tombs of her ancestors. 
 
 The light of the setting sun was already stray 
 ing through the crimson curtains, when the La 
 dy Eveline remembered her request to Ellen Wil 
 son, and determining to go forth and meet her 
 in the avenue, she hastened to prepare herself 
 for her walk. She had already crossed the gal 
 lery, and was descending the superb staircase 
 which led to the outer hall, when a glimpse of 
 the young Marquis leaning thoughtfully against 
 the entrance arrested her steps. She wished to 
 avoid him, but it was too late. He had caught 
 a view of her, and now demanded the privilege 
 of accompanying her in her walk. The lady was 
 embarrassed, she could not refuse, and they de 
 scended together through the winding avenue 
 which led from the castle. 
 
 " You are surely well again, my Lady," said the 
 Marquis, glancing with surprise on her counte 
 nance now lighted up with a glow and brightness 
 altogether unusual. There were still traces ol 
 tears on her cheek, her eye beamed with the 
 
148 THE FAIR PILGRIM. 
 
 fervor of intense feeling, and a smile of that 
 peace which the world cannot give played on 
 her lip. 
 
 Here was an object which of all others, hu 
 man love clings to most tenderly, arid the im 
 passioned words which the young nobleman ut 
 tered, showed that his heart confessed its power. 
 
 The lady had desired earnestly that this bitter 
 trial might be spared her; for it was too true 
 that there had been moments, when she had 
 dreamed, even in this very avenue, of giving 
 her young heart with all its affections to him who 
 now so earnestly solicited it, and beautiful had 
 the long life before her seemed, when she had 
 thought of devoting it to his happiness. But this 
 was all over. She knew that he was in heart a 
 hater of the puritans and a despiser of their faith, 
 and that however his young affection for her 
 might now soften his feelings of contempt for her 
 religion, such affection was but a broken reed to 
 lean upon all was over and now some other love 
 must brighten the grandeur of his princely home. 
 
 She had told the Marquis of this, with a noble 
 firmness ; and they were leaning silently upon 
 the gate, watching the brilliant and fading 
 hues of the western clouds, when the form of 
 Ellen Wilson approaching the remote extremi 
 ty of the avenue drew their attention. Her eye 
 was fixed upon them and she seemed in doubt 
 whether to approach. 
 
 " Yonder girl has a message for me, my Lord," 
 exclaimed Eveline, opening the gate, " I must 
 leave you for a moment to receive her errand." 
 
 "What message shall I bear to my father s 
 house?" said Ellen as the lady approached her, 
 
THE FAIR PILGRIM. 149 
 
 I 
 
 * there are many there, anxiously awaiting your 
 decision." 
 
 " Say that I will go with them," replied the 
 lady, calmly. "Ellen, at what hour do we leave 
 the valley?" 
 
 " At eleven, my lady, and at two we sail. The 
 moon will be bright, and ere the morning dawns, 
 we shall have gone far on our long way. And 
 my father bade me tell you also, that if you had 
 aught to carry with you, it must this evening be 
 conveyed to the ship. If you will send it to the 
 cottage, Lady, it shall be safely done." 
 
 " It is well it is well," repeated Eveline, with 
 quickness, endeavoring to subdue some painful 
 emotions. "At eleven, Ellen, I will be in your 
 father s cottage. Is there aught else ?" 
 
 "Nothing," replied Ellen, but she turned a 
 moment with a glistening eye, "only dear lady, 
 God will bless those who love him, better than 
 father, and sister, and houses ; and lands, and I 
 know you will be blessed when you have forsaken 
 them all for his sake." 
 
 The ties of Christian love are strong ; and the 
 high born lady bent to kiss the lip of one, who 
 was henceforth to be her sister, and the compan 
 ion of her pilgrimage. 
 
 The Marquis still waited for her at the gate ; 
 and after pursuing their walk a little farther on 
 the lawn, they returned to the castle. Eveline 
 immediately retired to her dressing room for the 
 purpose of making the necessary preparation for 
 her voyage. This was quickly done. From the 
 mass of rich dresses which her wardrobe con 
 tained, a box of her simplest clothing was soon se 
 lected; and this, with another containing a few 
 choice books and letters, a small portrait of her 
 13* 
 
150 THE FAIR PILGRIM. 
 
 mother and sister, and a casket of costly gems-, 
 the gift of her father, and of themselves suffi 
 cient to purchase the supply of her future wants, 
 was all that this noble heiress chose for her por 
 tion, from the boundless wealth of her father. Af 
 ter this painful duty was accomplished, she di 
 rected a servant to convey them to the cottage at 
 the foot of the coppice, and in a few moments 
 after, she descended to the sitting-room below. 
 
 The Lady Julia was this evening splendidly 
 dressed, and to the eye of her sister she had 
 never looked more lovely, her voice too thrilled 
 with affection s music, and every tone seemed to 
 bury itself in her spirit. Her father and brother 
 were there, and unkind though they had often 
 been, the heart of the Lady Eveline was not one 
 in which such ties could be lightly severed, and 
 every time she met their glance, or heard their 
 voices addressing her, a tear would involuntarily 
 tremble in her eye, that she whom they looked 
 upon as daughter and sister, would soon be to 
 them as a forgotten exile. 
 
 The gay Marquis appeared this evening 
 strangely melancholy ; and when at length the 
 young ladies arose to retire, he accompained 
 them to the door. A hasty summons from a dis 
 tant estate had just arrived, and as he was to leave 
 the castle early the ensuing morning, he availed 
 himself of this opportunity to bid them adieu. 
 
 The Lady Julia s compliments were uttered in 
 that easy and graceful manner which the slight- 
 ness of the occasion seemed to demand ; but her 
 sister, for a moment, appeared singularly em 
 barrassed. Her cheek at once became deadly 
 pale and then the blood mounting suddenly, gave 
 it so rosy a tinge, that Julia gazed upon her in sur- 
 
THE FAIR PILGRIM. 151 
 
 prise. ".Sister, shall we go?" she said, gently 
 drawing her away. 
 
 "Farewell, Lady Eveline," exclaimed the Mar 
 quis. All ! that farewell, he dreamed not that 
 it was forever. 
 
 But the door was closed. Eveline felt they 
 were to meet no more on earth, and she was now 
 almost unconsciously traversing the hull with her 
 sister s arm in hers. 
 
 The following morning was spent by the Lady 
 Eveline in the solitude of her reading room. She 
 was principally engaged in writing an affection 
 ate letter to her father, in which she prayed for 
 the continuance of his affection, his forgiveness 
 and blessing, when she should be far away on her 
 lonely exile, and another of exquisite tenderness, 
 addressed to her sister, in which she laid open to 
 her all her sorrows, and told her of the stern con 
 flict of duty and feeling; and besought her by 
 all the tenderness of their early love to remem 
 ber her until death. The letters were both mois 
 tened with many tears, ere they were consigned 
 to their temporary concealment. 
 
 The day stole rapidly away, like the other days 
 of earth; noontide, sunset, and the fading twi 
 light \vere all gone, and now amid the shadows 
 of the starry evening, the moon was just lifting her 
 unclouded light. As it first began to gleam 
 through the windows of the castle, the Lady 
 Eveline was slowly walking along the wide galle 
 ry, while her sister still lingered a moment in the 
 dressing room, to complete the arrangement of 
 her toilet. Far different were their reflections. 
 When that light which now fell from the lofty 
 windows of the gallery upon the form of Eveline 
 should fade away in the grey beams of morning, 
 
152 THE FAIR PILGRIM. 
 
 oh where would she be then? The thoughts 
 that overpowered her heart were too bitter for 
 endurance, and she hastily approached the door 
 of the dressing room. 
 
 "Dear Julia are you not ready yet? Methinks 
 you are long." 
 
 " I cannot help it, Eveline," replied the other 
 in a half vexed and half sportive tone, " I have 
 been lecturing this awkward curl these fifteen 
 minutes, and it will not mind me. See how un 
 gracefully it falls! And do you know there is a 
 great deal of company below this evening, and 
 the young French Count that George has told us 
 so much of? There, Eveline, does it look bet 
 ter?" and as she spoke she held the lamp to her 
 face and turned full upon her sister. 
 
 " You look well, very well," replied Eveline, 
 almost unconscious of what she said, while she 
 gazed upon the countenance of the lovely young 
 lady. " Yes, you look very, very beautiful," con 
 tinued her sister, gazing wildly upon her. 
 
 " So then you are laughing at me," replied 
 Julia, blushing and placing the lamp again on 
 the dressing table. "I shall never ask you again, 
 if I am becomingly dressed." 
 
 "No, no," thought Eveline, "never." 
 
 "But, sister, upon my word no one can accuse you 
 of vanity," continued the young lady. "I do not 
 believe you have looked in your mirror since 
 morning. A plain white dress, not a single orna 
 ment, and your long curls all in your neck with 
 nothing to confine them. And yet, Eveline, that 
 Puritan dress is so becoming, I will not go one 
 step until you are remodeled, lest the Count should 
 say I had stolen your gems in very spite. Nay, 
 no resistance. Sit down upon this sofa, and let 
 
THE FAIR IMLI.RIM. 1 53 
 
 me sec if I cannot spoil that look what did the 
 Marquis call it, Eveline ? Oh, simplicity, sweet 
 simplicity. " 
 
 " You speak foolishly, Julia," replied the lady, 
 while her sister prepared to fulfil her threat.- 
 " It matters little now what robes I wear 
 
 "Ah, Eveline, taste, and heart and all gone ? 
 If I remember aright, they have been missing since 
 morning. It looks a little auspicious of that young 
 Marquis, sister." She paused a moment, but Ev 
 eline had no heart to reply. 
 
 " There, that blue sash is quite becoming, Lady 
 Eveline, I have tied it behind in a true lover s 
 knot, and these curls begin to look extremely 
 graceful beneath my magic touch. And not the 
 least symptom of a bracelet," she continued with 
 increased vivacity. "One would suppose you 
 were dressed for a fine night s slumber, instead 
 of the drawing room. But do not look so sad 
 about it, you may wear these amethysts of mine. 
 Now, my lady, look in the glass," she added 
 taking her hand, "and pay the compliments due 
 to my skill and taste. 
 
 "It is beautiful, very beautiful," repeated Eve 
 line, her thoughts still dwelling on the bitterness 
 of her approaching destiny. 
 
 " You are in the complimentary mood this even 
 ing, my grave sister, but come, we must hasten 
 down. We have waited too long already." And 
 arm-in-arm they now moved quickly through the 
 gallery and were soon standing in the brilliantly 
 illuminated drawing room. 
 
 All seemed in fine spirits, save the Lady Eve 
 line, and if she was sad, it was not for want of at 
 tempts at cheerfulness. Her gay brother, not 
 withstanding, rallied her much upon her mourn- 
 
154 THE FAIR PILGRIM. 
 
 ful visage, but as the evening advanced and her 
 paleness every moment increased, he became 
 alarmed, and Eveline soon saw him directing her 
 father s eye to her, from a distant part of the 
 room. The Earl instantly approached. 
 
 " You look ill, daughter," he said to her. "Do 
 not weary yourself by sitting here. Indeed, Eve 
 line," he added, in a tone of unwonted feeling, 
 " I fear you are much indisposed." 
 
 "Oh, no," replied the lady, with a sudden ef 
 fort, "I am quite well. George will tell you I 
 have been laughing with him all the evening. But 
 my walk this afternoon, was long and I am unu 
 sually fatigued. 
 
 "Then," replied the Earl, "you must retire to 
 your own apartment and stay till you can come 
 forth with a fresh bloom. Do not wait for cere 
 mony," he added, " I will excuse your absence. 
 Good night, daughter." 
 
 The lady looked silently up, for a moment, on 
 her father s countenance, as if with that one glance 
 she was seeking to stamp it forever on her memo 
 ry; "Goodnight, my father, good night," she 
 repeated in a low and solemn voice, and she 
 seemed waiting for the parting kiss, as she had 
 been wont to do in her childhood. For a mo 
 ment her father s lip met her s, it was for the last 
 time, and a thrill of strange anguish rushed through 
 her frame. 
 
 George was standing by the door as she passed. 
 
 " There, Eveline, am I not a dear and precious 
 brother, to procure your banishment from the par 
 lor in such season ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, George," said the lady interrupting 
 him, in a tone of thrilling emphasis, "you are 
 dear and precious." She would have said more, 
 
THE FAIR PILGRIM. 155 
 
 but her voice trembled, the gay smile faded from 
 her lip ; her brother s hand rested a moment in 
 hers, and there beamed from her countenance 
 such a look of sorrow and holy tenderness, as 
 long years had not power to efface from the me 
 mory of the youth. 
 
 Just as the door was closing, Lady Evelin 
 caught a glimpse of her sister. She was sitting 
 in a distant recess, conversing gaily amid a group 
 of admirers. Her whole countenance was bright 
 with gladness, and a keener pang pierced the 
 heart of her sister, as the door closed upon this 
 last best object of her earthly affection. 
 
 It was nearly ten when the Lady reached her 
 apartment. One short hour was all that remain 
 ed, one hour more and the places which knew 
 her now, would know her no more. She leaned 
 her head upon her pillow the firm restraint which 
 had hitherto borne down her feelings, now gave 
 way, and the lady wept bitterly. Suddenly she 
 felt a light arm fiung around her. " Dear sister, 
 why do you weep?" said the gentle tones of the 
 Lady Julia, as she gazed with surprise upon her 
 tearful countenance. 
 
 "Oh, Julia, my heart is broken, I cannot bear 
 it, indeed I cannot," and she leaned her pale, 
 wet cheek on her sister s shoulder. 
 
 " And why," exclaimed the lovely girl, as she 
 pressed her lip affectionately to hers. " Why will 
 you not tell me your sorrows? Have I ever re 
 fused you my sympathy ? Once, indeed, when I 
 thought you enthusiastic and bewildered with the 
 doctrines of the Puritans, I blamed you but 
 surely that can have no connection with your 
 present sorrows." 
 
 There was something in her last words which 
 
156 THE FAIR PILGRIM. 
 
 aroused the lady from her reverie ; she now rose 
 calmly from her sister s arms, and throwing back 
 the curls from her pale forehead, endeavored, with 
 a smile beautifully serene, to conceal the agony 
 of her spirit. Oh, deeply was that image written 
 on the heart of the sister, when months and years 
 rolled on and she saw her no more. 
 
 " Julia, excuse my weakness my spirits are 
 low to-night my heart throbs painfully. I need 
 repose, dear sister." 
 
 "But, Eveline, you look extremely pale. Let 
 me call my father." 
 
 "No, sister, do not concern yourself," replied 
 the lady, "I thank you for your kindness, Julia, 
 for all your kindness," and she turned to the dress 
 ing table to conceal her emotion. 
 
 In less than half an hour, the younger sister lay 
 asleep on her pillow, but Eveline still slowly 
 paced the apartment. She was clad in a habit of 
 dark, rich velvet, and the fanciful dress and or 
 naments she had that evening worn, together with 
 her sister s, and many other gay articles of appa 
 rel were lying on the sofas around her. 
 
 The taper threw a feeble gleam on the various 
 objects of the room : the last echo of retiring steps 
 had ceased, and there was a stillness throughout 
 the castle. With a trembling step she approach 
 ed, to take one last farewell of the beloved sleeper. 
 The warm tear which dropped on the cheek of 
 the dreaming girl for a moment aroused her. 
 
 " Eveline, is it you ?" she murmured, " why do 
 you wait so long ?" Then again closing her eye, 
 she turned her face upon the pillow, and thejady 
 saw her no more. 
 
 Ellen Wilson was standing at the foot of the 
 avenue, when she beheld in the distance the form 
 
THE FAIR PILGRIM. 157 
 
 of the Lady Eveline, coming forth for the last 
 time from the halls of her fathers. There was 
 something deeply affecting in the sight of such 
 devotedness in one so young ; and Ellen could 
 not but weep. But there was no tear on the 
 lady s cheek. The bitterness of the sacrifice was 
 past ; her step was firm, her eye bright, and her 
 brow calm with the fervency of devotion. Once 
 indeed, when they had reached the boundary of 
 her father s domain, the lady turned she leaned 
 a moment on the wall and gazed for the last time 
 on the loved scenes of her early years. The 
 venerable castle, long avenue, and the shady park, 
 were lying in the solemn moonlight. For an in 
 stant, her eye lingered on the high window where 
 the light was still burning in the Lady Julia s 
 apartment; and then again they walked swiftly 
 onward. 
 
 Ellen Wilson was also of the Pilgrims, and as 
 her feet pressed the soft grass of the beautiful 
 coppice, where she had played in childhood, her 
 heart knew its own bitterness. 
 
 Lights were moving swiftly through the cottage, 
 and the lady soon found herself sealed in the midst 
 of that stem and sorrowful band whose kindness 
 was henceforth to be to her instead of the strong 
 ties of earthly love. 
 
 All was now ready. Carriages were waiting 
 at the door. But they lingered a moment longer. 
 The heads of the Pilgrims were bowed in prayer. 
 Little children with golden curls, and hoary age, 
 youth and manhood kneeled together; and their 
 mingled spirits, and the warm blood of their slain 
 affections," ascended to heaven in grateful obla 
 tion. All that they asked was granted. Dauntless 
 courage, unwavering fortitude, love to God and 
 14 
 
158 THE FAIR PILGRIM. 
 
 man, and hopes full of immortality, fell on them 
 like the dew of heaven. 
 
 The lady was soon seated in a closed carnage 
 by the side of Ellen Wilson, and she gazed with a 
 tearless eye from the window, till her native val 
 ley, and its lofty turrets had quite faded in the dis 
 tance, and ere the bell had tolled through the cas 
 tle the second hour of the morning, she was stand 
 ing far away on the deck of the vessel which was 
 soon to bear her to her destined home. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 "Hail to the land of our toils and our sorrows ! 
 Land of our rest 1 when a few more to-morrows 
 Pass o er our heads, we will seek our cold pillow, 
 And rest in our graves, far away o er the billow." 
 
 WHEN the joyful sound of " Land land in 
 sight," was echoed in the ear of the wearied voy 
 agers, the Lady Eveline was sitting in her cabin 
 engaged in those refined and elevating studies, 
 which during her voyage she had found means to 
 prosecute. Ellen was seated on a low stool, be 
 side her, busily occupied with her needle, and 
 from time to time her eye glanced on an open 
 book which lay in the chair before her. There 
 were many other females present, but as the cabin 
 was large, it allowed them to scatter themselves 
 in various groups, as best suited their tastes. 
 
 " Do you hear it, my Lady ?" said Ellen, throw 
 ing down her work, and gazing earnestly on her. 
 " Was it not land they cried ?" 
 
 They listened again, there was no mistake. 
 The loud " huzza for land," echoed in the hoarse 
 voices of the sailors above them, and Ellen, with 
 many of the females, immediately hastened upon 
 deck. The former, however, soon returned with 
 a look of much disappointment, assuring her 
 friend that the object of their curiosity was only 
 visible through a glass and on the top of the mast. 
 This was nothing more than the lady had expected ; 
 
160 THE FAIR PILGRIM. 
 
 and had it been otherwise, she found that without 
 some preparation of heart, she could not even 
 now look unmoved upon the land of her voluntary 
 exile. 
 
 It was midnight, when the ships conveying the 
 Pilgrims approached the shore of their destination. 
 Ellen Wilson and her noble friend were standing 
 together on the deck, gazing silently before them 
 as they slowly neared the rock-bound coast. The 
 deck was crowded with Pilgrims, all looking 
 eagerly forward to catch a glimpse of their future 
 home. The dim light of the stars only, illumined 
 the scene ; and even this was in part obscured, by 
 a few cold and broken clouds, that swept cheer 
 lessly across the heavens. Nothing could be dis 
 cerned but a faint outline of forest, rock and vale ; 
 and the awful gloom which seemed to rest upon 
 them, the noise of the sailors, shouting and run 
 ning to and fro, and the damp midnight breeze 
 which moaned over the wave, all sent an icy chill 
 through the hearts of that gazing band. How 
 often amid the silence of midnight had this 
 long expected vision arisen before their sight. 
 Was it still a drearn? Oh, no, the warmth of fan 
 cy was gone, and over it all, there was a touch of 
 cold reality which fancy never brings. If there 
 had been enthusiasm, it was over now; if the 
 coloring of an ardent imagination had ever been 
 thrown over their enterprise, it all faded as they 
 leaned forward, and gazed on that dim shore, and 
 remembered that this dismal forest was now their 
 only home, and the cold blue heaven their only 
 covering. If tears dropped on the wave, it was not 
 strange ; for some were thinking of the quiet and 
 loveliness of the pleasant firesides, far away over 
 the ocean ; and some were there, whose dearest 
 
THE FUR PILGRIM, 161 
 
 kindred were at this moment sleeping in princely 
 halls, and who had been wont to rest beside 
 them. 
 
 The destination of the present colony was at a 
 considerable distance above the rock upon which 
 the first Pilgrims had landed, and was on many 
 accounts a far more eligible situation. It was 
 styled by the natives Naumeak ; and when the 
 Pilgrims again looked upon it, in the pleasant 
 light of morning, there were no murmurs, nay, the 
 voice of praise was heard, that " the lines had 
 fallen to them in such pleasant places." 
 
 After much preliminary business had been ar 
 ranged, about noon on the second day after their 
 arrival, the whole body of the emigrants prepared 
 to go on shore. The Lady Eveline leaned on the 
 arm of Ellen, as this strange procession moved 
 away through the untrodden paths of the forest. 
 During the preceding day a party had been des 
 patched to reconnoitre the place, and having se 
 lected as a spot for settlement a small clearing 
 near the shore, they now acted as guides to the 
 remainder. A large temporary shelter had been 
 hastily thrown up of broken boughs and trees 
 which had been cut down for the purpose, and a 
 party of the settlers were soon employed in con 
 veying thither the articles of furniture they had 
 brought with them from England. All was now 
 joyful bustle and confusion. Many of the females, 
 with the gentle assiduity of their sex, were busy 
 in the interior of their new dwelling, seeking, not 
 withstanding their various disadvantages, to give 
 it a cheerful appearance. Meanwhile another 
 party had arrived from the ship, with tools and 
 materials for building; and in a few moments the 
 14* 
 
162 THE FAIR PILGRIM. 
 
 noise of the axe and hammer resounded on all 
 sides through the forest. 
 
 There was something strangely animating in 
 their toil. The Pilgrim females stood around for 
 awhile, gazing upon it with anxious silence, while 
 the sportive voices of childhood rang through the 
 wood, and even the babes themselves lifted up 
 their meek brows from their mother s arms, gaz 
 ing on the strange scene with smiles. 
 
 Under such auspices, it was not long ere a rude 
 \illage had risen instead of the waving forest. 
 A sanctuary for Him whom they had come over 
 the waves to worship in freedom of spirit, was 
 reared in the midst of their dwellings. Pleasant 
 indeed to the souls of the wearied Pilgrims, was 
 the light of their first New-England sabbath. 
 They could now fearlessly worship the Father of 
 spirits, in spirit and in truth ; and as the voice of 
 prayer rose to heaven, from the depths of that 
 solemn forest, with no voice to chide, and no ear 
 to hear but the ear of a forgiving God, as the 
 rocks and vales which till now had listened only 
 to the hymn of the morning stars, echoed with 
 the loud sweet song of praise, and their souls 
 drank freely of that well of living water, of which 
 if a man drink he is athirst no more, they felt that 
 they had not vainly abandoned all. And could 
 the worshipers in the proud cathedrals of Old 
 England, have glanced on that band, they would 
 have read on many a meek and beautiful brow, 
 and in the warm flush that lighted even the cheek 
 of manhood, the records of a devotion no less 
 lofty than their own. 
 
 The rude huts, which on their landing had 
 been hastily erected, were only considered as 
 temporary habitations. Each family soon made 
 
THE FAIR PILGRIM. 163 
 
 efforts to provide its own dwelling place ; and ns 
 many of the colonists had possessed wealth in 
 England, some were able to do it in a style of 
 simple and becoming neatness ; and the lovely 
 village of Salem with its pleasant church and cot 
 tages and cultivated fields, ere long had risen in 
 the bosom of the forest, so that, literally, in the 
 beautiful words of sacred promise, "The wilder 
 ness had begun to blossom as the rose. * 
 
 A pleasant room in the dwelling of Mr. Wilson, 
 had been fitted up for the accommodation of the 
 Lady Eveline. Ellen had planted beneath the 
 window a rose bush from the forest, and a vine 
 of wild honeysuckle crept over the wall. Pre 
 cious indeed to Ellen was the happiness of that 
 noble lady who had come with her across the 
 deep, whom from her earliest childhood she had 
 regarded with that indefinite veneration inspired 
 by high birth, and who now, in the new and 
 endearing relations she sustained to her, was at 
 once the object of her love and admiration. 
 
 Bat as for the lady herself, she seemed well to 
 have learned that bitter lesson, which the sorrows 
 of her youth had inculcated; her affections no 
 longer rested on the things of earth. Their 
 strong tendrils had been too cruelly torn, to fas 
 ten on aught beneath the skies; and all that did 
 not still linger on the remembered and cherished 
 forms of her kindred far away over the ocean, 
 now bloomed in heaven. 
 
 Not that the lady regarded with indifference 
 the holy companions of her pilgrimage ; she loved 
 them tenderly as the sharers of her toils and sor 
 rows on earth, and as those whom she hoped 
 would share her long reward, when these toils 
 and sorrows were over. But there was none of 
 
164 THE FAIR PILGRIM. 
 
 that strong clinging of natural affection, which 
 had marked the days of her wealth and splendor. 
 There was no singling out of objects for deep at 
 tachment. She was contented to love them all, 
 as children of the same heavenly Father. And 
 the lady was not unhappy. Long hours of calm 
 and pure enjoyment, were often her portion amid 
 the silence of her own apartment. Often as she 
 sat by her pleasant window, and gazed upon the 
 beautiful land around her, the near ocean, and 
 the bright skies above, such moments of holy 
 feeling, such exquisite conceptions of the purity 
 and tenderness of heavenly love were granted 
 her, that her soul seemed almost to participate 
 in the blessedness of that land, where the rivers 
 of pleasure flow unmingled. The events of her 
 life had been fitted to purify and elevate her af 
 fections ; and she felt that one moment of this 
 holy enjoyment was more than sufficient to reward 
 her for her painful sacrifice. 
 
 But the days of darkness were many. Famine, 
 disease, and death, came often to the cottages of 
 the Puritans, and sometimes their hearts failed 
 them and the path seemed too thorny for man to 
 tread. It was in such seasons that the tender ex 
 ertions of the Lady Eveline were peculiarly use 
 ful. Her unwavering self-denial, her tenderness 
 and condescension, had won the hearts of the 
 colonists; and this influence, so nobly acquired, 
 was exerted only to relieve the afflicted, and com 
 fort those that mourned. 
 
 The second year after their landing, a large 
 accession of emigrants arrived from England. 
 They brought with them a charter, which after 
 much solicitation had been obtained from Charles, 
 transferring the powers of government into the 
 
THE FAIR PILGRIM. 1C5 
 
 hands of the colonists themselves. One of the 
 ships also conveyed their first officers who were 
 appointed by the crown. In consequence of this, 
 their numbers during the succeeding summer 
 weregreatly increased, and the emigrants at length 
 became so numerous that it was deemed advisable 
 for a large portion of them to settle themselves 
 at a place, called by the natives Shawmut, but 
 now well known as the site of a flourishing city. 
 And now approached the season of their severest 
 trial. 
 
 During the ensuing winter a dreadful mortality 
 prevailed among the colonists. Hunger, weari 
 ness, and sickness they had borne unmurmuring; 
 but here was death in all its bitterness. Fathers 
 and mothers died ; bibes and children were laid 
 in the grave, while the bloom of life was scarce 
 cold on their young faces ; the warm dreams of 
 youth were quenched in the stillness of the long 
 sleep; and many a voice, like the voice in Rama, 
 arose from among the Puritan cottages. Few 
 escaped the power of the raging sickness, arid 
 every day the fresh turf of the burial ground rose 
 on some new made grave. 
 
 It was now that the religion which had softened 
 the heart of the Lady Eveline, was revealed in its 
 most touching light. The natural delicacy of her 
 frame, seemed all to have vanished. While the 
 strong lay prostrate with disease and death, fresh 
 energies seemed given to her ; with a light un 
 wearied step, she moved by the couches of the 
 dying and the dead ; and days of anxiety and 
 nights of sleepless watching, wasted not the bloom 
 of her countenance. The pillow of many a dying 
 child was softened by her attentions, and when 
 the mother had turned away in the depths of her 
 
166 THE FAIR PILGRIM. 
 
 agony, the cold hand of the little sufferer rested 
 in hers; and her kind and gentle assiduities were 
 continued till the calm smile of death had settled 
 on its features. Her pure and elevated piety 
 gave her also unwonted access to the souls of the 
 bereaved, for her words were low and soothing, 
 and all of heaven, and of the blessedness of a land, 
 where sickness and death might not come, and 
 sorrow and sighing should flee away. 
 
 The long winter at length rolled by, and with it 
 the heavy calamities which had visited the colony. 
 Ships from England gladdened the hearts of the 
 wearied exiles ; and as the pure spring air danced 
 freshly over the earth, it seemed to endue them 
 with health and vigor. 
 
 But there was one, to whom the spring in all its 
 freshness, bore no promise of future years. Slowly 
 and surely the frost of death was descending on 
 the brow of the young and beautiful. She who 
 had watched so tenderly by the couches of the 
 dying, was now herself to die ; she who had so 
 often directed others to heaven, was now herself 
 to enjoy its blessedness. But the disease was 
 deep, and its secret work impaired not, at all, the 
 loveliness of the frail flower it was destroying. 
 To one who might have gazed, for a moment only, 
 on the lady, thoughts of decay and death would 
 have seemed strangely inappropriate. None of 
 her usual avocations were neglected. At morn 
 ing and evening she was still seen taking her ac 
 customed walk along the shady paths of the vil 
 lage, or through her favorite forest walks, her 
 visits of kindness and sisterly love were still con 
 tinued, and those who passed the pleasant dwel 
 ling of the pastor, might still observe her light 
 
THE FAIR PILGRIM. 167 
 
 form through the honey-suckles, or see her ram 
 bling with Ellen in the little green enclosure. 
 
 But they who watched her daily, with that in 
 tense anxiety which the love of earthly objects so 
 surely brings with it, felt too truly that though 
 death was coming on forms of strange loveliness, 
 he had none the less surely marked his victim. 
 They saw that every day her step became slower, 
 her form more light and airy, and her low, thrilling 
 voice, yet more low and thrilling. They saw too 
 that whenever she spoke, her eye wore an unwont 
 ed brilliancy; and instead of the pale damask, 
 a color all too deep and bright for earth, mantled 
 her cheek. 
 
 The lady herself felt that she must die; and 
 though at some moments, the sudden recollection 
 of this firm conviction, would bring the rich crim 
 son to her lip, in general the thought was peace. 
 She knew that she had not lived in vain. The 
 principles of holiness implanted in her soul, had 
 long been developed in high and holy action ; and 
 though the love of heaven wns her only hope, 
 these recollections were now inexpressibly sweet, 
 as evidences that this love had sanctified her af 
 fections. Upon the first conviction that death 
 was approaching, the Lady Eveline had addressed 
 letters to her friends in England, informing them 
 of her illness, and repeating her solemn farewell, 
 till she should meet them again in the world of 
 spirits. 
 
 It was June and a beautiful sabbath after 
 noon. For some days past, the lady had been 
 confined entirely to her own apartment ; and 
 now, supported by Ellen Wilson, she walked 
 from her bed to a seat by the open window, to 
 catch the fresh breeze that was springing up from 
 
168 THE FAIR PILGRIM. 
 
 the ocean. Exhausted even with this slight ex 
 ertion, she leaned her head a moment on Ellen s 
 shoulder. The only contrast to the marble white 
 ness of her countenance was in the hue of the 
 long eyelash that now lay in such deep repose on 
 her cheek. The rich coloring of life seemed 
 gone forever. Her cap had fallen carelessly back, 
 and the breeze played lightly among the long 
 and beautiful hair it released. Ellen had sup 
 ported her head with pillows ; and now stood be 
 side her, gently fanning her brow, and gazing 
 with intense grief on the altered hue of her fea 
 tures. 
 
 "You are too ill, dear Lady, to sit up thus, do 
 not attempt it to-day," she exclaimed, as the inva 
 lid at length slowly opened her eye. 
 
 " I am better now, my kind Ellen," replied the 
 lady. " 1 will sit here awhile, for I long to look 
 out once more on the green and freshness of 
 earth. Oh, how fervently have I loved it. I can 
 not go away from this world forever without one 
 last look ;" and as she spoke, she leaned gently 
 forward to gaze on the beautiful prospect. 
 
 A more quiet and lovely scene has seldom met 
 the eye. Perfect, sabbath stillness hung over 
 the cottages around ; and far beyond stretched 
 the rocky shore, and the wave of the Atlantic. 
 It was the hour of afternoon service and the in 
 habitants were now all assembled in the house of 
 God. This was near them, and as they leaned 
 upon the window, the loud hymn of praise rose in 
 rich swells on the air. 
 
 " Oh, Ellen, hear that holy music " murmured 
 the lady faintly. " I could almost dream that the 
 airs of heaven already played on my ear. Surely 
 there was never so lovely a sabbath before ; or, 
 
THE FAIR PILGRIM. 169 
 
 Ellen, is it because the earth grows beautiful, as 
 it fades from my sight?" 
 
 She paused a moment, and some pleasant re 
 collection seemed to flit across her mind. " The 
 grass in the coppice, Ellen, must be green ere 
 this," she suddenly exclaimed, " and the shady 
 avenue. Oh, for a walk in that avenue to-day." 
 
 Ellen was surprised. The lady had hardly 
 ever spoken of her former enjoyments, since the 
 period of their landing; but now all restraint 
 seemed over. 
 
 "Ellen, look over that blue wave, and far be 
 yond," she continued. " You can see nothing 
 and yet I have looked there, hour after hour, till 
 my eye has pierced the dreadful distance, and the 
 lovely valley, the castle, and the park, were all 
 before it ; nay, I roamed through the halls of my 
 ancestors, and I heard the voices of those who 
 were dearer to me than life. But, Ellen, it is 
 over now, my eye is dim, and the pleasant land, 
 far away over the ocean, will rise no more to it," 
 and the lady wept. 
 
 " But you have long had grace from heaven, to 
 strengthen you in suffering. Oh, my Lady, will 
 it fail you in your need ? 
 
 " But to die, Ellen, far away from my kindred, 
 unremembered and unblest my soul cannot en 
 dure it. There is music and dancing in my fa 
 ther s hall, my own Julia smiles gaily, my bro 
 ther s laugh rings through the castle as joyfully 
 
 as ever, and even" she paused a moment and 
 
 a rich color tinged her cheek, " and I, whom 
 they all once loved, am dying, alone, on this dis 
 tant shore." 
 
 Ellen perceived that the unusual emotion which 
 the lady now exhibited, was fast exhausting her 
 15 
 
170 THE FAIR PILGRIM. 
 
 strength, and she was intreating her to retire 
 again to her couch, when the appearance of a 
 ship entering the harbor, arrested her attention. 
 Though this had of late become a less rare oc 
 currence than formerly, still the sight of these 
 messengers from the land of their nativity pos 
 sessed strong fascinations for the eyes of the pil 
 grims, and Ellen now parted away the clustering 
 vine, and leaned forward to watch the landing. 
 The eye of the lady was also directed to the same 
 point, and now and then a few brief remarks in 
 dicated her interest in the scene. The deck was 
 apparently well crowded with passengers, and so 
 near was the harbor, that they could even distin 
 guish their figures as they walked separately across 
 the plank which had been thrown over, to facili 
 tate their landing. ^ 
 
 " Ah, Lady Eveline, those are not all pilgrims, 
 believe me," exclaimed Ellen, as a richly dressed 
 group, one by one, passed over. " That lady s 
 robe is all too gay, and her step too proud, and 
 those young cavaliers that are over now, and 
 walking with her, they are no pilgrims, my 
 Lady." 
 
 At that moment a slight noise caused her to 
 turn her head, and she perceived with alarm that 
 the lady had fallen, fainting, on her pillow. 
 
 " Oh, help me to my couch, Ellen, for I am sick 
 and weary," she murmured, as her eye slowly 
 reopened ; and when her pale face at length rest 
 ed quietly on its pillow, Ellen saw tha she was to 
 rise no more a living being. A deathlike slum 
 ber soon sealed her eye again, and they who were 
 hovering around her couch, almost feared it was 
 death itself. Long and sorrowfully did Ellen 
 watch by her noble friend, until at last a deep 
 
THE FUR PILGRIM. 171 
 
 hectic began to brighten on her cheek, her lip 
 burned with a living glow, and when her eye 
 again opened, it shone with an unnatural and 
 dazzling brilliancy. 
 
 "Oh, where is Julia ?" she said, gazing uncon 
 sciously around her. " I have long been sick and 
 sorrowful, and she has not come to me, my sister, 
 my own beloved sister, where are you ?" and she 
 looked wildly upon Ellen. "Nay, Ellen Wilson, 
 do not tell me that I am dying far over the ocean, 
 among the pilgrims. It was all a dream, a long 
 strange dream. Is not this my own apartment, 
 and is not this the pillow that the Lady Julia 
 sleeps on? and these lofty walls, and those rich 
 curtains and hangings, do these belong to the 
 puritan cottage?" She smiled and shook her 
 head. " No no I saw none such in my dream. 
 " Ah, Julia, you have come at last," she continued 
 after a few moment s pause, regarding Ellen. 
 " Now lay your soft hand on my aching brow, it 
 seems ages since I felt it last." 
 
 Ellen gently laid her hand on her forehead. 
 
 "Ellen Wilson, do not mock me," she exclaim 
 ed after a moment s pause. " Your touch is light 
 and gentle, but it is not like the touch of a sis 
 ter s hand. Once more, Julia," she added in a 
 tone of indescribable tenderness, "once more, 
 only for one moment, I pray you come to me. 
 Oh, she will not come, I have intreated and pray 
 ed, and she will not come," and again the dying 
 lady wept. 
 
 It was sunset, and the yellow light reflected 
 from without, had given a rich and mellow tinge 
 to the objects of the apartment. The lady s eye 
 had long been closed, but she had not slumbered. 
 Strange visions flitted across her mind. She had 
 
172 THE FAIR PILGRIM. 
 
 heard many a light tread by her bedside, sweet 
 tones repeated her name low in her ear, warm 
 tears dropped on her cheek, soft lips met hers, 
 and faint thoughts of the bliss of other years 
 came over her like traces of faded dreams. 
 
 At last her eye opened. The small fair hand 
 that lay on the quilt was loaded with gems. 
 Slowly she raised her glance to the bedside. Ah, 
 whose was that beautiful and glistening eye that 
 now met hers? Was it still a deceitful vision ? 
 She gazed slowly around. All illusion vanished. 
 She was lying in her own humble apartment, in 
 the cottage of the minister. The window by 
 which she had leaned a few hours since, was still 
 open. There was her little book case, her wri 
 ting table, and the cup of roses on it, just as El 
 len had gathered them in the morning. Ellen 
 too was standing at the foot of her couch 
 Her glance again turned to the pillow. / It was 
 no vision. That eye was still on hers. ? There 
 was a quick and searching glance, one wild burst 
 of ecstasy, and the long parted sisters were 
 folded in each other s embrace. They who had 
 separated amid the splendor of the far distant 
 castle, were again united in a lowly cottage be 
 yond the ocean. 
 
 " Eveline, my blessed sister ! say that you will 
 part no more from me. I have come over the 
 wide waters to see you. Eveline, do not call for 
 me again so mournfully. You are not indeed for 
 gotten ; all that have ever loved you, love you as 
 tenderly now. Dear sister, this is no place for 
 one like you to languish and die ; you shall go 
 back with us to our father s house, and we will all 
 love and cherish you." 
 
THE FAIR PILGRIM. 173 
 
 The lady calmly gazed upon the fresh and 
 blooming countenance of her sister. " No no, 
 Julia," she replied, " I shall go no more hence, 
 till I go to my long home, my bright home in 
 heaven. Do not weep, dear sister, that I am dy 
 ing, for my heavenly Father hath at last made 
 death lovely, even to me." 
 
 "Do not think of dying, Eveline," replied the 
 lady, with a shudder. " Now that fearful slum 
 ber is off, your eye is bright, and your cheek far 
 more rosy than when I saw you last. Oh, Eveline, 
 you mustnoi die." 
 
 At that moment Ellen approached from the 
 door. 
 
 "They have desired to know if they may see 
 the Lady Eveline," she whispered in the ear of 
 the sister. " I have told them that we thought 
 her dying." 
 
 Julia regarded her with a look of agony. " Look 
 at that beautiful color on her cheek," she whis 
 pered, "you are surely dreaming." 
 
 Ellen shook her head mournfully. "I have 
 known it long, my Lady, it is only the hectic 
 flush. Does she sleep?" and she bent her head 
 a moment to the pillow. 
 
 " No, dear Ellen," murmured the lady faintly. 
 * Of whom were you speaking ?" 
 
 Eveline," said her sister, in a voice almost 
 choked with emotion, "I came not alone to see 
 you, some whom you once loved, are now 
 in the next apartment ; but you are wea 
 ried ; shall they wait till morning?" For a mo 
 ment strange energy seemed given to her frame, 
 her voice was strong, and she almost raised her 
 self from her pillow. 
 
 " Speak not of to-morrow, Julia, those whom 
 15* 
 
174 THE FAIR PILGRIM, 
 
 I would see again on earth, I must see now, 
 There was one over the wave whom my unwean- 
 
 ed affections have strangely clung to, and" 
 
 At this moment the door gently opened, and 
 the forms of her dearly remembered brother, 
 and of him who had long ago loved her, arrested 
 her eye. 
 
 The soul of the dying Eveline, was now at 
 peace. Earth s visions were indeed over; but 
 the tones of human love were still sweet to her 
 ear. In one short hour from the time when she 
 had deemed herself a forgotten exile, the forms 
 of brother, and sister, and friend, surrounded 
 her couch, and her dying moments were cheered 
 and sweetened, with the kindest endearments of 
 earthly affection. 
 
 For a few moments, she spoke with earnestness, 
 and told them of the strong depths of her affec 
 tion for them, and prayed them to bear her dying 
 blessing to her father. Of heaven, too, she spoke, 
 and of the beauty and holiness of that religion 
 she had so honored, and besought them by the 
 strength of the love which had led them over the 
 deep, to meet her in that world. And just as her 
 beloved Ellen had bent to kiss her brow, while 
 she breathed the assurances of her grateful affec 
 tion, and her eye was yet bright with feeling, the 
 eye closed, the voice ceased, and something like 
 a beautiful and placid sleep, settled on her fea 
 tures. The spirit was in heaven, and they who 
 had come so far to bear the lady to her princely 
 home, soon bore her in sorrow to her long resting 
 place, among the tombs of the Pilgrims. 
 
CASTINE. 
 
CASTINE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " SATURDAY night and Lucy not yet returned," 
 
 exclaimed the minister of H , in a severe and 
 
 impatient tone, as he lingered at the open door 
 of his dwelling. The sun was down, but a few 
 clouds still glowed in the red and beautiful light, 
 and the little valley beneath, the sweet village of 
 H with its fields and gardens, was still beau 
 tiful in the last flush of brightness. Yet to the 
 dwellers in that quiet vale, the weekly season of 
 care and toil was already past, the sacredness of 
 the sabbath had come upon them, amid the gath 
 ering shadows of the early twilight. 
 
 The minister still leaned in the door, looking 
 anxiously down the silent streets, while the dusk 
 of evening was advancing, and the lights began 
 to gleam through the village. " Methinks our 
 daughter is becoming wayward and careless of 
 late," he continued as he closed the door, with a 
 displeased countenance, and turned again into 
 the parlor. 
 
 Mrs. Everett was at that moment placing a 
 lamp upon the stand, beside the bible and hymn 
 
178 CASTINE. 
 
 book that already adorned it. At this last remark 
 of her husband, she raised her mild blue eye to 
 his countenance, with an expression of some sur 
 prise. " Our daughter went to tarry a few hours 
 with her friend Jane, so at least she told me, and 
 I have not been wont to doubt her word." 
 
 " But why does she linger so long ?" interrupted 
 Mr. Everett. " The sun went down an hour ago, 
 and what will the congregation say, when the 
 minister s daughter profanes holy time ? And 
 Sarah," he added, lowering his voice and bending 
 his eye with a mysterious expression on the coun 
 tenance of Mrs. Everett, " I bode no good for the 
 child herself at this hour." 
 
 " True, true," exclaimed the mother, rising up 
 hastily, while her countenance kindled with an 
 indescribable expression of maternal anxiety. 
 " I had for once forgotten the Indians" 
 
 " No no, Sarah, it is not the Indians I fear, 
 but a more deadly enemy. Have you not noticed 
 how, from the time the young stranger from the 
 north first came among us, our Lucy s heart hath 
 been going after other things than her parents on 
 earth, and her Father in heaven ? It hath press 
 ed upon me long, that there is one whom she 
 loves better than these. Nay, Sarah," he con 
 tinued, "why look at me thus, have you yourself 
 seen nothing of this?" 
 
 " Never," replied the mother. " Lucy has 
 never breathed to me aught of the young Cana 
 dian, and even when every one else is inquiring 
 into the cause of his mysterious appearance and 
 his protracted visit, I have noticed that she has 
 been silent. But if she has given you her confi 
 dence, surely you ought not to have withheld it 
 from her mother," 
 
CASTINE. 179 
 
 " Lucy has told me nothing," replied the cler 
 gyman, "but I have watched her closely; and 
 when day after day, as she sits with us, and her 
 eye is on her needle, I have read her countenance, 
 I have seen that her soul was full of visions not 
 the calm visions of the better land, but warm, un 
 hallowed dreams of earth. I have seen her eye 
 kindle, and her lip tremble with smiles and even 
 unconscious whispers ; and if I did but ask her of 
 her thoughts, such a deep and sudden blush would 
 come over her face, as a pious and free hearted 
 maiden need never wear. And I have seen it too, 
 Sarah, even in the house of God ; her eye has a fix 
 ed and vacant gaze, which shows that her heart 
 is not there, and when the Canadian comes up the 
 aisle her face grows flushed, even though she sees 
 him not. 5 
 
 " Mr. Everett," exclaimed the mother with un 
 wonted animation, " you do indeed wrong our be 
 loved Lucy. Little as 1 know of the schemes and 
 devices of the great world without, I can at least 
 read that one gentle spirit, whose every motive 
 and feeling I have so long studied. I know that 
 my Lucy s heart is a shrine of pure and elevated 
 affections" 
 
 "Then so much the more carefully should we 
 guard them, Sarah ; she has a wild and romantic 
 fancy, that may lead these affections astray. 
 There is something too, in the mien and look of 
 the elegant stranger, singularly attractive even to 
 me." 
 
 " And is it strange, that one who has been rear 
 ed amid the simple retirement of this little vil 
 lage, should not regard with feelings of perfect 
 indifference the accomplished stranger whom you 
 yourself admire ?" 
 
180 CASTING. 
 
 "No, Sarah it is not strange but wrong. 
 Would it not be wrong for the daughter of a Pu 
 ritan minister, to give away her heart s best affec 
 tions to a stranger, and a Papist? I know the 
 slightest breath will kindle the enthusiasm of a 
 young heart like hers ; and do you trust to the 
 strength of her love for us, and for the pure reli- 
 
 ion in which she has been educated ? Sarah, 
 arah, you have too soon forgotten Lucy McGre 
 gor." 
 
 Mrs. Everett started as though some sudden 
 light had flashed on her mind, and the clergy 
 man continued to pace the floor in evident agi 
 tation. " I do not say," he continued, after a 
 few moments silence, " that, even were she put 
 to the trial, our beloved child would ever for 
 sake us, to become the wife of a superstitious 
 and bigoted Catholic. I cannot believe she 
 would thus break our hearts ; but, Sarah, years 
 of grief taught me that it was a bitter thing, 
 to throw away, on some hopeless object, the 
 strong ties of early love. I know you think 
 me suspicious ; but I have had cruel lessons, 
 and he of whom we speak, doth strangely re 
 mind me of one whom once we both too well 
 knew." 
 
 At that moment the little latch of the gate 
 without was heard to fall. " Good evening, 
 sir," said a low, subdued voice, and presently 
 after the door of the parlor opened, and the 
 minister s daughter stood before her parents. 
 
 There was something in her appearance well 
 fitted to strengthen those apprehensions, which 
 had just agitated the heart of the father ; some 
 thing, aside from that extreme beauty, which 
 in a world like this, must ever excite anxiety 
 
CASTINE. 181 
 
 for its possessor. She had closed the door, and 
 stood for a moment leaning against it, like one 
 overcome with some painful exertion. A flush 
 appeared on her countenance, brighter than the 
 mere tint of health and beauty, and though her 
 eye was downcast, there was visible some deeply 
 excited feeling, seeking to conceal itself beneath 
 an air of inditlerence. 
 
 " Is this well, Lucy Everett? Is it well?" said 
 the clergyman, seating himself at the table, and 
 assuming an expression of sternness, as he gazed 
 on the countenance of his beautiful child. There 
 was no reply. 
 
 "Come hither my child," said Mrs. Everett, 
 " where have you been, and why have you tarried 
 so long?" Lucy approached the table, the flush 
 deepened on her countenance, and she raised her 
 hand before her large, dark eyes, apparently for 
 the purpose of shading them from the sudden 
 light. " You know, mother, I have been with 
 Jane this afternoon," she said in a tone of affect 
 ed carelessness, "and I was not aware that it was 
 so late." She still stood by the table. 
 
 " But, Lucy, you are surely not going out again," 
 continued Mrs. Everett. " Take oft your bonnet, 
 and come and sit down with us. We have waited 
 for you already." 
 
 The young lady hastened to obey her mother; 
 and then drawing her chair to the table near her, 
 she leaned her head upon her hand, so that her 
 features were entirely concealed from Mr. Everett 
 by the dark ringlets that fell over them, and at 
 the same time taking up the little hymn book, 
 she opened it and began to read in silence. 
 
 " Lucy, my dear, you may close the book," 
 said Mr. Everett, after a few moments silence. 
 16 
 
182 CASTINE. 
 
 " I have a few simple questions to be answered/ 
 The book was closed, but the countenance of 
 the young lady was still inclined towards the 
 table. 
 
 " Lucy, with whom have you spent your whole 
 time since you left our dwelling?" 
 
 "I have spent the afternoon with Jane Grant, 
 sir, as I have before assured you," replied the 
 maiden. 
 
 " And was it Jane Grant who accompanied you 
 to the gate ?" said her father, bending his face 
 towards hers. There was no reply. " Lucy," 
 he continued, raising his voice and speaking with 
 much earnestness, " they who walk with you at 
 this late hour, must be no strangers to me. I 
 must know why you have lingered so long abroad, 
 profaning the sacredness of holy time in unhal 
 lowed ramblings." 
 
 " The sun was far above the hill, sir, when I 
 left the village, but I came by the forest path; 
 and it was later than I had imagined it would be 
 when 1 left the valley." 
 
 "Ah, Lucy, but you came not alone. Would 
 you deceive me ?" The anguish evinced by the 
 father as he uttered these words, seemed only to 
 increase the agitation of the daughter; for a few 
 moments she covered her face with her hands, 
 while tear after tear moistened her cheek. 
 
 " My father," she at length said, raising her eye, 
 and assuming an appearance of calmness, "he 
 who came with me through the forest path this 
 evening, was the young Catholic stranger." Her 
 voice trembled, and she paused. 
 
 " And how long," said Mr. Everett, with a for 
 ced calmness, " since this Papist youth has been 
 the chosen companion of your walks ?" 
 
CASTINE. 183 
 
 An expression of unwonted pride curled the lip 
 of Lucy Everett. " By accident, sir, I found 
 myself this evening intrusted with the life of 
 this stranger and Papist though he is, I re 
 joice that no pride, or foolish delicacy prevented 
 me from fulfilling my duty. My father, I have 
 not been wont to deceive you, but more I cannot 
 and must not tell you, for I promised, as I myself 
 hope for kindness, that I would not." 
 
 Mr. Everett gazed on her countenance with un 
 feigned astonishment. He could not for a mo 
 ment doobt her sincerity, and though every word 
 of her explanation had only deepened the mys 
 tery, there was that in her countenance which 
 at once convinced him that further inquiries were 
 useless. 
 
 The next morning was the sabbath, and a more 
 beautiful one never dawned on the earth. Ttie 
 dwelling of the minister was considerably remote 
 from the village, and just at the foot of a little 
 liill, covered with evergreen woods. In front, 
 the ground was gradually descending, and the 
 green slope was occasionally diversified with 
 neat houses and gardens. A distinct view could 
 also be had from the front window, of the church 
 spire in the valley below, and the small cluster of 
 houses surrounding it, which had received the 
 appellation of "the village." It was May, the 
 air was exceedingly soft and fragrant, and Lucy 
 Everett had thrown open the window of the little 
 parlor, and stood leaning over the sash, gathering 
 a bunch of roses from the bush beneath. She 
 had just spread the damask treasure on the win 
 dow seat, and was endeavoring to arrange them 
 in a graceful bouquet, when the sound of the "first 
 bell" came swelling in clear and solemn notes, 
 
184 CASTING. 
 
 from the valley below. At that moment, Mrs. 
 Everett entered the room. Lucy perceived at 
 once that there was something unusual in the 
 manner of her mother. A deep shade of sadness 
 hung over her usually placid brow, and her eye 
 was moist with tears ; but the daughter dared not 
 ask the cause of her disquietude, lest it should 
 lead to a recurrence of embarrassing inquiries. 
 
 Lucy was sitting in the window, and Mrs. Eve 
 rett, after taking from a locker near the door a 
 small and closely wrapped case of ivory, ap 
 proached and seated herself beside her. Cover 
 ing after covering was removed, she slowly un 
 clasped the case, and at length Lucy perceived 
 that her mother was gazing with looks of intense 
 emotion, upon a small miniature picture. It was 
 set in gold and brilliants, and she felt her curios 
 ity strongly excited concerning the object which 
 had power to awaken such agitating interest, in so 
 placid a spirit. 
 
 " God forgive me," murmured the mother, with 
 a strong effort, at last subduing her feelings. 
 " These idle tears do ill become the sacredness 
 of an hour like this. It was not to mourn for the 
 long perished flower of Glenville that I made this 
 effort but for the living God be praised, my own 
 Lucy Everett is yet among the living. My 
 daughter, you are opening again in our hearts, 
 wounds which long years have scarce had power 
 to heal, and much I fear, beginning to cast away 
 from your confidence, the counsellors whom God 
 hath given you. Child, child, you are standing 
 strong in the might of your own frail spirit, but 
 look you here, if one like this should fall, why 
 should Lucy Everett, standing on the same brink, 
 be fearless of evil ?" 
 
CASTINE. 185 
 
 As she spoke, she placed the miniature before 
 the eye of her daughter, and every other feeling 
 was at once forgotten in admiration of its beauty. 
 It was the picture of a young maiden, apparently 
 not more than sixteen ; and such a look o r sweet 
 ness and innocence, Lucy felt she had never be 
 fore beheld. The beautiful lips were parted with 
 smiles; and she met and returned the speaking 
 glance of that soft blue eye, till a living spirit 
 seemed before her, one that had known no sor 
 row and no sin, yet meek, and mild, and rich in 
 all the depths of human tenderness. 
 
 " And so young and beautiful," exclaimed Lucy, 
 as with feelings of intense admiration she still con 
 tinued to gaze upon it. " Blessed spirit ! Who 
 would dream that sorrow and death were your 
 destiny?" and the warm tears of pity fell un 
 heeded over the smiling features of the pic 
 ture. 
 
 " And why mourn, daughter," replied Mrs. 
 Everett, " for the vain and fleeting beauty that 
 hath long since perished from the earth ? Think 
 of the gem within the living imperishable spirit 
 
 that was dimmed and broken within" Her 
 
 voice faultered. It was only for a moment and 
 then in her usual calm, impressive tones, she 
 commenced her narrative. 
 
 "Lucy McCregor was the companion of my 
 early youth, and alas, the idol too, to which I of 
 fered up those affections of the soul that belong 
 alone to the Almighty. She was your father s 
 cousin, and but a child when I first saw and loved 
 her. At that period she came to her uncle s house 
 in England, an unprotected orphan, from the 
 Scottish hills. He received and cherished her 
 as his own child, and to your father she was ever 
 16* 
 
186 CASTINE. 
 
 as a sister, only and well-beloved perhaps even 
 more. They were both bred together in the doc 
 trines of the Puritans. Lucy McGregor had 
 been taught all those pure and sacred precepts, 
 which we have sought to instil into your mind 
 she was gentle and docile, and seemed to return 
 in full measure the love that was so freely lavished 
 upon her; but, Lucy, hear me she whom we had 
 deemed so affectionate and pious, at last died an 
 alien from the church, and from those who had 
 loved her as their own souls." 
 
 An involuntary exclamation burst from the lip 
 of her auditress, but Mrs. Everett continued her 
 narrative. 
 
 " Even from the period when she first came 
 among us, with the blue eye and golden hair of 
 her clime, Lucy was ever one that the world call 
 ed beautiful. God had endowed her too with a 
 mind of noble powers, and with a rich and rare 
 gift of winning to herself the hearts of her fellow 
 creatures. Ah ! How did the gold become dim, 
 and the most fine gold changed ! Ere Lucy had 
 attained her nineteenth year, the noble family of 
 
 C first took up their residence in our vicinity. 
 
 And from this period did we date the beginning 
 of that misery which afterwards overwhelmed our 
 hearts ; for, daughter, mark me from this period 
 did our Lucy first delight in the company of the 
 unholy, the vain and proud ones of the world, 
 more than in the lowly and despised whom God 
 hath chosen out ef the world ; from this period 
 did she begin to contemn the restraints of her 
 pious home, the hedge with which God in mercy 
 had guarded the way of her youth. I cannot tell 
 you now how step by step this change was 
 wrought; indeed it had proceeded far, ere those 
 
CA8TINE. 1S7 
 
 who of all others should have shared her confi 
 dence, were at all aware of its existence. The 
 family of the castle had seen and admired her for 
 her beauty, and they were not long in learning, 
 that notwithstanding her present lowly lot, Lucy 
 McGregor was the daughter of an ancient Scot 
 tish clan, and that the name of many a renowned 
 chieftain graced her lineage. 
 
 "Among the persons of distinction who visited 
 the castle, there came one a youth from a for 
 eign land, whom Lucy regarded with deep in 
 terest ; mayhap such as Lucy Everett cherishes 
 for this unknown Catholic. To enter into any 
 particulars concerning him, would surely lead to 
 details and feelings unbefitting this holy day; 
 some hour less sacred I may tell you all. Suffice 
 it then, my daughter, that though of the blood 
 which men call noble, he of whom I speak was 
 of a light and profane spirit, and withal a proud 
 contemner of 4 the faith once delivered unto the 
 saints. 
 
 " Meanwhile we all saw, and mourned in secret, 
 that the orphan s heart was becoming estranged 
 from her early home, and the friends of her child 
 hood. Solitude was preferred to the company 
 she once held so dear; her joyful laugh was no 
 more heard among us ; she seemed looking forth 
 to some brighter destiny than our love could give 
 her. The stranger at length sought her hand of 
 her uncle and guardian, and was refused ; for, 
 Lucy, how think you could a minister of the true 
 faith, thus give up the child of his affections and 
 prayers, to a stranger and a Papist, high-born 
 though he was, and gifted in all worldly graces ? 
 
 " At length it was rumored through our dwel 
 lings, that the castle was soon to be deserted of 
 
188 CASTING. 
 
 its gay occupants, and we all rejoiced all save 
 Lucy. The day after their departure, I set out 
 once more for my wonted visit to the inhabitants 
 of a few poor hamlets, that lay at no great distance 
 from our village. It was nearly sunset ere my 
 return, and my path lay through an unfrequented 
 and solitary lane, it was therefore with surprise 
 that when arrived within a mile of our dwelling, 
 I perceived a lady in a rich traveling dress, rapidly 
 approaching me. She was closely veiled, and 
 yet there was something in her form and move 
 ments strangely familiar. Lucy McGregor, I 
 exclaimed, recognizing her with astonishment, as 
 trusting to her disguise she endeavored to pass 
 me unnoticed. I threw my arm around her and an 
 undefined foreboding of evil almost overpowered 
 me. My apprehensions indeed were not with 
 out reason. Upon the plea of illness, Lucy had 
 for some days past excused herself from the 
 company of her friends, and the excessive pale 
 ness of her face, as I drew the veil from it, 
 convinced me that her indisposition was not 
 feigned. But this only rendered the circum 
 stance of her present appearance yet more sus 
 picious. I intreated her to return with me. 
 
 No no, Sarah, she replied, with a strange 
 smile, I cannot go back it is too late now. 
 Unable to understand her, with a painful op 
 pression at my heart, I walked by her side in 
 silence. At length, in some measure suppres 
 sing my feelings, I endeavored to speak of 
 the pleasure we should experience in resum 
 ing our excursions to the hamlet I had just 
 visited, for the vicinity of the many gay youth 
 at the castle, had for some time past interrupt 
 ed them ; but suddenly a long and agonizing 
 
CASTINK. 189 
 
 sigh, caused me to stop. She was leaning 
 against the stile, her face pale as the snow- 
 wreath of her native hills, and there beamed 
 from it such an expression of indescribable ag 
 ony, as I trust these eyes may never again wit 
 ness. 
 
 * It is too late now too late/ she repeated 
 in the same despairing tones. * I am no lon 
 ger Lucy McGregor." There was a pause, 
 and then came the fearful truth. She whom I 
 saw before me was the wife, yes the true and 
 plighted wife of the Catholic stranger. But 
 I have loved you and my cousin, and my more 
 than father, she continued, without regarding 
 my amazement, how fervently I may not now 
 tell you, but I have been dazzled blinded and 
 deceived there is no more happiness for me." 
 " And now on looking up, we perceived a 
 stately equipage coming down the hill before 
 us. Then did IJintreat, and pray aye, on my 
 bended knees I besought her, by the love I had 
 borne her from our childhood, by her duty to the 
 friends that still lived, and by the tears and pray 
 ers of those who were already in heaven, not for 
 the sake of a few fleeting honors, thus to cast 
 away the blessing of God but it was in vain," 
 continued Mrs. Everett, wiping away the dew 
 which even the remembrance of that long past 
 agony had gathered on her brow. " It was in 
 vain. One long, bitter farewell she wept upon 
 my neck, and 1 saw her no more. Three years 
 after this, Lucy Me Gregor died among strangers 
 in a strange land, and the prayers of the corrupt 
 ed priests were murmured over the departed 
 spirit of one, who from her infancy had been 
 

 190 CASTINE. 
 
 nursed in the purity of the true religion. Many 
 years we mourned for her in bitterness of spirit, 
 and he who had been to her as a second father 
 died, and for her his grey hairs went down in 
 sorrow to the grave." 
 
 Mrs. Everett paused, and now the bell sound 
 ing again from the distant valley, announced the 
 hour of morning service. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE duties of the sabbath were over, and the 
 shades of twilight were softening the beauty of 
 the landscape, when Mrs. Everett and her daugh 
 ter went forth, as they were wont to do of a sab 
 bath evening, to walk a few moments among the 
 large old elms that shaded the path to the village. 
 They were both silent. Mrs. Everett s usually 
 gentle spirit had been deeply agitated both by 
 the task she had that morning imposed upon her 
 self, and by the mysterious conduct of her daugh 
 ter ; and it was evident she had not yet recovered 
 her composure. Lucy herself was apparently 
 the subject of some stronger excitement than the 
 tale of Lucy McGregor alone could have aroused ; 
 she had several times essayed to speak, but the 
 words died on her lips. 
 
 "This is a lonely path at evening," she at 
 length remarked, as if seeking to draw the con 
 versation to the subject of her late mysterious 
 conduct, but the observation failed of its effect. 
 The silence still continued. " Mother," said 
 Lucy, with a sudden effort, " I fear I have ap 
 peared to you an undutiful child. You would 
 not have told me the sorrowful story of Lucy 
 McGregor, had you not believed me in danger 
 of some strange offence. But you are mistaken. 
 
192 CASTINE. 
 
 I do not mean to say that I am more innocent 
 than was Lucy McGregor," she hesitated and 
 blushed deeply, "but I have no temptation placed 
 before me, I mean none like those which led her 
 astray." 
 
 " And yet," said Mrs. Everett, gazing full upon 
 her countenance, " can you say that your feelings 
 are not at all interested in the stranger, who was 
 as you yourself acknowledge, the companion of 
 your walk last evening ?" 
 
 There was a short silence. " No, mother, I 
 will not say it, I am deeply interested in this 
 youth, not merely because of the mystery that 
 hangs over his name and character." She added 
 with much earnestness, "No, mother, it is because 
 his safety, nay, his life, has been placed by acci 
 dent in my own hand." 
 
 Mrs. Everett paused in astonishment. " Do 
 you speak only to tantalize my curiosity, Lucy, 
 or am I to look for some explanation of your 
 words?" 
 
 "To you, my dear mother," replied the young 
 lady, "I can confide this secret. To my father 
 1 have promised that I would not, even as I 
 valued the life of the stranger. You will not 
 betray it, mother, even to him ?" 
 
 " Not if you have promised, Lucy, but methinks 
 you were exceedingly imprudent to make such 
 engagements. Do not, however, delay any longer 
 the explanation of this mystery." 
 
 "You know then, mother," continued Lucy, 
 with a slight embarrassment in her manner, 
 " Jane s home is situated so far out of the village, 
 that the path through the woods is almost as di 
 rect as this. 1 have always chosen it because it 
 
CASTINE. 193 
 
 is far more quiet and pleasant. I mean always 
 till of late." 
 
 "And why have you abandoned it of late ?" said 
 lier mother. 
 
 " Because I had reason to believe it was a fa 
 vorite place of resort to the gentleman we were 
 >peaking of. I had twice met him there, as I 
 supposed by accident, but Jane Grant soon after 
 found in our little bower a copy of French verses 
 which I knew he must have dropped, and I can 
 not think it was entirely accidental; for my own 
 name was upon them." 
 
 "And what were they? said Mrs. Everett has 
 tily. " Could you read them, Lucy ?" 
 
 " I could, and I rejoiced for once that Jane 
 knew nothing of the language in which they were 
 written. The words were beautiful, but they 
 were not true, for they spoke of a being as sinless 
 and lovely as t!u; angels of heaven, and gave to it 
 the name of a frail and erring mortal. Until last 
 evening, I have never since walked through the 
 woods." 
 
 " And why did you then ?" 
 
 " Jane was to accompany me part of the way, 
 and she insisted upon taking the forest path. I 
 dared not tell her my scruples, neither did 1 think 
 it at all probable that at this hour I should again 
 meet the stranger. Jane parted with me on the 
 chestnut knoll, and just as she was quite hidden 
 from sight atnonj; the trees, on turning my head 
 to the little arbor we had fitted up for our own 
 accommodation, 1 beheld the stranger himself 
 he was standing just in the edge of it. It was 
 the third time we had met precisely in the same 
 place. I would have turned, but I saw that his 
 eye was upon me, and knew myself to be just in 
 17 
 
194 CASTINE. 
 
 the center of the woods, so I moved on with a 
 quickened pace, without once averting my eye 
 from the path, until I had nearly reached the edge 
 of the thicket. Being exceedingly fatigued, I now 
 began to move slower, and it was well that I did. 
 For some time I had perceived before me a sin 
 gular object lying a little on one side of the path. 
 As I drew near, my curiosity increased ; and 1 
 was turning aside a moment to satisfy it, when a 
 slight movement in the adjoining bushes arrested 
 my steps. Do you wonder, dear mother, that rny 
 blood ran cold with horror, when I found myself 
 standing within a few feet of a sleeping Indian, 
 a warrior too, and armed with tomahawk and 
 arrows!" 
 
 Mrs. Everett threw her arm around her child, 
 as if seeking to protect her from the threatened 
 danger. " Why did you not tell me this before? 
 We must go home, Lucy," she continued, " it is 
 no time to be walking now," and she drew her 
 daughter s arm in hers, as they moved hastily to 
 wards the gate of the cottage. 
 
 It was quite dark when they had reached the 
 porch, and it was not until Mrs. Everett had close 
 ly locked and barred the outer door, that Lucy 
 found opportunity to renew her narrative. 
 
 " I was just hesitating what to do," she con 
 tinued, in reply to her mother s inquiries, " when 
 the sound of distant voices met my ear. They 
 seemed rapidly approaching retreat was impos 
 sible ; if they were foes, my only security lay in 
 concealment. Mother, have you ever noticed the 
 hollow oak that stands to the right of the path, 
 just as you enter the valley of wild flowers?" 
 
 " Yes yes, go on," said Mrs. Everett with im 
 patience. 
 
C1STINE. 195 
 
 " It was only a few rods behind me," continued 
 Lucy, "and I was soon concealed within it. The 
 voices had all the time been approaching, and 
 were now so near that I could distinctly distin 
 guish their words ; I was surprised too to perceive 
 that they spoke in French." 
 
 " And who were they, Lucy, and what did they 
 say?" inquired Mrs. Everett, whose interest in 
 the narrative had every moment increased. 
 
 " Who they were, mother, t do not know," re 
 plied Lucy, " but as to their words, I remember 
 them as distinctly as though I had but this moment 
 heard them." 
 
 " Hertel de Rouville," said the first voice, " he 
 is a noble and gallant youth ; we should be well 
 convinced thut he is a traitor, ere we come to 
 such desperate measures." 
 
 "And what do you call noble and gallant^ 
 exclaimed the other and rougher tone. "If to 
 betray to the enemy the counsels of his party, is 
 noble, I grant you that he is so; if to fold up his 
 arms, and sit down in the camp of the foe, is gal 
 lant, I grant you, he is a gallant youth." 
 
 " But, De Rouville," continued the first voice, 
 " what proof have you that he has betrayed our 
 counsels? I thought that Vandreuil himself des 
 patched him to the enemy." 
 
 " As a spy, not as a traitor," replied the other. 
 " His orders were to go from one end of New- 
 England to the other, to seek its weak and de 
 fenceless points of attack, to reconnoitre its strong 
 places, and sec where the ambushed foe might 
 best hide themselves; and Vandreuil is informed 
 that he lingers here to obtain an opportunity of 
 opening our plans to the governor. At all events," 
 he continued in a lower tone, "Vandreuil assures 
 
J96 CASTINE. 
 
 me that a little of this same gallant s blood will 
 contribute materially to the betterment of our 
 cause, that is, if secretly drawn; and Hertel de 
 Rouville is not the man wh > hesitates at his bid 
 ding. But if you have any scruples, Beaumont," 
 he added, with a tone of half suppressed laugh 
 ter, " we will call on the old Penobscot priests for 
 absolution/ 
 
 "The other voice now became so low that I 
 could scarcely distinguish the words, but I soon 
 perceived that they were speaking of the sleeping 
 Indian." 
 
 " No, Beaumont, do not arouse him yet," said 
 the rougher voice. " Wait till the victim is in 
 sight, he will only trouble us. I know that he is 
 in the forest ; and, I believe, in this vicinity. Un 
 less he is previously alarmed, he will undoubtedly 
 pass this spot." 
 
 " I heard no more for several moments, and 
 ventured carefully to peep from my concealment. 
 By the twilight, I saw two military figures repos 
 ing on the ground, near the Indian. Happily their 
 faces were from me, and unless my tread aroused 
 them, I yet hoped to escape. At length I found 
 myself at such a distance, that the shadowing 
 branches hid me from their sight. I paused a 
 moment, and considered what to do. One sin 
 gle, foolish moment, I remembered that the youth 
 was a Catholic and a stranger, and I a Puritan 
 maiden; but soon came better feelings, and I 
 shuddered when I thought of the blood of one so 
 young and unoffending, poured out by the mer 
 ciless Indian. I resolved to warn him of his dan 
 ger. Mother, was it wrong ?" 
 
 v NO, my child. It was. such a deed as became 
 
CASTINE. 197 
 
 a Christian woman. And where did you find the 
 youth ?" 
 
 "Near the spot where I had left him. He was 
 stretched on the bank by the arbor, in a kind of 
 careless repose ; and was gazing on the sky with 
 such intensity, that he took no notice of me until 
 I was near enough to speak to him in a low voice. 
 He started up, and looked extremely surprised. 
 At any other moment pride would have withheld 
 me, but the dreadful conviction of his danger 
 rested on my mind. I scarcely recollect my 
 words, but 1 remember I spoke of life and its 
 sweetness, for I felt that this strange intrusion 
 needed an apology. He heard me with respect 
 ful silence, but I saw he could scarce conceal his 
 astonishment. Just then there was a slight rust 
 ling in the leaves; but it was only the evening 
 wind. 
 
 " Stranger," said I, " have you any deadly ene 
 mies, any who seek your life?" 
 
 "Doubtless I have," he replied with some agi 
 tation, " for I have found that deadly enemies are 
 easily and quickly made. Dnir lady," he said, ap 
 proaching me, "I see you have come on an er 
 rand of mercy. There is danger then !" He 
 paused, and without waiting for further inquires, 
 I hastened to relate to him every particular of the 
 scene I had just witnessed. Meanwhile we were 
 hastening rapidly towards that part of the forest, 
 from which I had first entered ; and just as I had 
 finished my recital, we were opposite the dwel 
 ling of my friend Jane. I would have hastened 
 in thither for security ; but the stranger forbade 
 me, even as I valued the life I sought to save. 
 The light from the window gleamed upon his 
 face, and I saw that he was deeply agitated. 
 17* 
 
198 C ASTUTE 1 . 
 
 Here we paused a moment. " Lady," said fre 
 "my life is a weary one, and I have long deem 
 ed it a light thing to die ; but I would rather find 
 my death in fair and honorable fight, than fall 
 unknown and unwept into the secret grave that 
 Vandreuil has prepared for me. A temporary 
 concealment is now my only security. When 
 the enemy find their search here fruitless, tiiey 
 will pursue me in some other place of my resort, 
 and were I to fly, I might probably fall into their 
 hands." 
 
 "Then come to my father s house," said I, "he 
 is kind and noble hearted, and would sooner die 
 than betray you. 
 
 "He looked at me a moment, then mournfully 
 shaking his head, " No no. It will not be safe," 
 he said. "Your father must never know of my 
 concealment, promise me that he shall not." 
 The safety of my mysterious companion was now 
 my only object, and solemnly and unhesitatingly 
 I promised it. "But you must not linger here," 
 I added, " you need concealment until the pur 
 suit is over; and I will seek it for you, even at 
 the risk of my father s displeasure." We were 
 now walking through the village, and I quickly 
 revolved in my mind the various places of con 
 cealment with which I was familiar. I knew 
 there was one on the pine hill behind us, singu 
 larly well calculated for our purpose, for in 
 our childish games it had often afforded me 
 a secure hiding place. I described it to the 
 stranger, so that he could not mistake it, and we 
 parted at the gate. Mother, have I not accounted 
 to you for all that seemed wrong in my conduct ?" 
 
 "But, my child, think of the engagements you 
 hare made, to conceal the whole from your father t 
 
CASTINE. 199 
 
 The conversation in the forest was full of strange 
 meaning, and ought not to be withheld from him. 
 And, Lucy, who can this stranger be, who seems 
 a person of so much importance to the Canadian 
 Governor, and why should he fear so benevolent 
 a man as your father? If he were innocent, sure 
 he need not fear him. Who knows but this very 
 stranger whom you are secreting without his 
 knowledge, may be plotting our ruin r" 
 
 "Oh, no, "exclaimed the young lady, repressing 
 a cold thrill of suspicion, " it cannot be lie is too 
 frank and generous for treachery. Mother, do not 
 betray him. I know [ have involved myself in a 
 strange task, and yet if I had refused it, the tom 
 ahawk of the Indian would even now have been 
 stained with his blood." 
 
 " But did you make no engagements of further 
 assistance ?" said Mrs. Everett. 
 
 Only that I would obtain all possible intelli 
 gence of his foe, and convey the first news to the 
 place of his retreat." But at that moment Mr. 
 Everett s voice was heard in an adjoining room, 
 and presently after his entrance put a period to 
 their conversation. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE ensuing day was spent by Lucy Everett 
 in efforts to obtain further intelligence of the 
 Canadian officer and his associates. For this 
 purpose, she had extended her walk to the village, 
 calling upon those persons of her acquaintance 
 whose situation or character rendered them most 
 familiar with the floating news of the day. She 
 could not believe that the conspirators would 
 abandon their object, without first instituting a 
 search among the inhabitants, and thus afford her 
 an opportunity of ascertaining something con 
 cerning their future plans. 
 
 It was about noon, and Lucy was returning per 
 plexed and disappointed, when her eye was arrest 
 ed by the appearance of a genteel looking stran 
 ger, sitting in the half opened door of a small 
 dwelling, which she was that moment passing. 
 The circumstance was enough to awaken her 
 curiosity, and she determined not to pass until 
 she had learned whether the appearance of Mrs. 
 Marsden s guest, did not in some way affect the 
 object of her solicitude. The face of the stran 
 ger was turned from the door, and she heard the 
 voice of the good woman loud within. Unwillkig 
 to intrude without some precaution, she paused a 
 moment before the bars, at the same time calling 
 
CASTING. 201 
 
 to a little flaxen headed hoy who was playing 
 within the enclosure. He had thrown down his 
 kite and with a delighted air was approaching the 
 young lady when Mrs. Marsden herself appeared 
 in the door. 
 
 "Come in, come in, Miss Everett/ she repeat 
 ed in a tone of good natured intreaty. And the 
 little hoy threw down the bars which guarded the 
 entrance. 
 
 Lucy needed no further invitation. Upon her 
 entrance the stranger had risen and seated him 
 self in a remote corner of the apartment and 
 seemed studiously to avoid notice. But Mrs. 
 Marsden allowed no lime for conjectures, and 
 notwithstanding the variety of her cares and em 
 ployments continued to pour forth such a strain 
 of inquiries that the only alternative was silence. 
 At length she paused a moment, and Lucy was 
 proceeding as concisely as possible to satisfy her 
 curiosity. 
 
 " But do you know, Miss Lucy," exclaimed 
 Mrs. Marsden quickly interrupting her, " that the 
 stranger gentleman across the way has left his 
 lodgings and gone nobody knows where, just as 
 his friend here, has come in search of him." 
 
 " Indeed !" said Lucy in a low voice, while the 
 color mounted high in her cheek, and she directed 
 i sidelong glance to the gentlemen in the corner. 
 Tie was leaning his chair against the wall, his 
 arms folded and his eye fixed intensely on the 
 floor; but notwithstanding the smile which play 
 ed on his features, Lucy discovered at once sue h 
 an expression of covert ferocity, that she turned 
 away shuddering, and prepared to doubt the au 
 thenticity of any thing she might have heard in 
 his favor. 
 
202 CASTING. 
 
 " Since Saturday evening," continued Mrs. 
 Marsden, " the young gentleman has been absent, 
 and his friend here is sadly concerned for him." 
 
 " He left no word then, where he was going," 
 said Lucy with a painful effort. 
 
 "None at all, ma am. He did not even men 
 tion that he was going, and his trunk and papers 
 are all there. I am sure he will return soon," 
 she continued turning to the stranger, " for he 
 has several times gone off suddenly, before this, 
 and never stayed but a few days." 
 
 " And do you know whither he went ?" said the 
 stranger lifting up his large, grey eyes with an 
 expression of eager curiosity. 
 
 Lucy Everett could scarcely conceal the sud 
 den shock that at that moment agitated her frame 
 the voice was that of Hertel de Rouville. 
 
 " Ah to be sure I do," replied Mrs. Marsden, 
 " when my husband was the very one that met 
 him in Boston with the big hat slouched over his 
 face. And now I think of it," she continued, " if 
 you are in such a hurry to see him, you had bet 
 ter go to Boston. You will undoubtedly find 
 him there. Would not you advise him too, Miss 
 Lucy ?" 
 
 "Good woman," continued the officer in the 
 same harsh tone and foreign accent, " you say he 
 had no friends no acquaintance among you." 
 
 " It was his own fault that he had not," replied 
 Mrs. Marsden, " but he had a very reserved sort of 
 a way with him, and never spoke a word to any 
 one, not even to answer a civil question. But you 
 had better not go to-day, sir," she added as the 
 stranger rose and approached the door. " It is a 
 long way to Boston." 
 
 "Then the sooner I am off, the better," replied 
 
CASTINE. 203 
 
 the officer, and after laying upon the table a 
 French coin, and bidding a hasty good morning, 
 he quitted the dwelling. Lucy saw that he di 
 rected his steps to the forest. That the search 
 in this vicinity was now over she could no longer 
 doubt, and ere she left the house of Mrs. Marsden 
 the officer and his companion, mounted on horse 
 back, were seen swiftly pursuing their way to the 
 south. 
 
 It was four in the afternoon, when Lucy Eve 
 rett, overcome with agitating emotions, prepared 
 for her excursion to the hiding place of the stran 
 ger. She had rested herself awhile in her mo 
 ther s parlor, and related to her the particulars of 
 her interview with De Rouville ; and she had not 
 departed without giving her promise that she 
 would ascertain if possible the import of the mys 
 terious conversation in the forest. Many embar 
 rassing thoughts passed through her mind, as she 
 slowly parted away the thick brushwood from the 
 winding path that led to the summit of the hill. 
 The beautiful stillness of the lone wood, interrupt 
 ed only by the voice of singing birds, and the cool 
 murmur of a distant waterfall, came over her feel 
 ings with a soothing influence until her reflec 
 tions had gradually assumed a softer character. 
 
 Thnt the youth whose life had recently been 
 redeemed from destruction by her own exertions, 
 could ever have acted in that plan of deliberate 
 treachery which the words of De Rouville had re 
 vealed, was an idea too painful to be indulged. 
 Neither were her emotions unmingled with fear 
 ful apprehensions. The conversation in the 
 woods had referred to a systematic plan of offen 
 sive operations, in contemplation against the New- 
 England colonies, at a time when perfect peace 
 
204 .CASTINE. 
 
 was supposed to exist between them and their 
 Canadian neighbors. Were then the horrid atro 
 cities to which the " Treaty of Rysvvick" had at 
 length put a period, again to be renewed ; and if 
 so, was not her silence with regard to it culpa 
 ble? Surely the welfare of a single stranger was 
 not dearer to her than that of her father and 
 country. Her cheek was yet warm with the em 
 barrassment which this inquiry excited, when she 
 found herself suddenly in his presence. He had 
 \vandered from the place of his concealment, and 
 stood leaning in the shadow of an old hemlock, 
 just on the summit of the hill. 
 
 His brow was uncovered, and the hunting cap 
 he had worn lay at his feet, his eye was fixed on 
 the ground, and such a shade of sadness darken 
 ed his youthful features, as the fear of death alone 
 could never have imparted. The rustling of 
 the tangled evergreens which lay in the path, 
 at, length aroused him from his reverie ; and with 
 a flush of unfeigned delight he hastened to meet 
 his beautiful deliverer. 
 
 The courtesies of the puritan life were few and 
 simple ; those fine, benevolent feelings which are 
 the essence of all true politeness, indeed were not 
 wanting, but the devotion of the pilgrims had 
 stamped upon the manners of the growing nation 
 its own rigid character ; and though in every 
 movement of the minister s daughter there shone 
 a simple and chastened elegance which no art 
 can purchase, it formed a striking contrast to the 
 polished bearing of her mysterious companion. 
 
 " I have seen Hertel de Rouville," said the 
 maiden interrupting his graceful compliments. 
 " He seeks you at Boston, and if the Indian does 
 
CASTINE. 205 
 
 not yet remain to watch your steps, you may now 
 escape in safety." 
 
 Again the eye of the stranger sunk, with that 
 look of melancholy, which the appearance of Lu 
 cy had for a few moments interrupted. " I have 
 then a short reprieve. Heaven bless you, gentle 
 maiden, for your kindness to a stranger. We 
 shall perhaps meet no more. And yet," he con 
 tinued, "I cannot leave my name loaded with 
 crime, to one whose approbation would be dearer 
 to me thnn that of the world beside." Lucy felt 
 that this was no light compliment; for the words 
 were uttered in the deep tones of feeling, and the 
 stranger s brow was flushed as he spoke. " Sweet 
 Lucy Everett, do not remember me as a spy and 
 a traitor; think of me as one whose early educa 
 tion has taught me to love the puritans, but whom 
 the ties of kindred and the love of life itself are 
 urging to join against them in schemes of treach 
 ery and cruelty. I cannot yet throw off the re 
 straint. The time has not come, for were I 
 convicted of the ofience of which Vaudruil 
 suspects me, it would only hasten on the scene 
 of bloodshed." 
 
 " But why does he seek to murder you in se 
 cret?" said the young lady with surprise. 
 
 " He has no proof of my guilt; and he dare 
 not do it openly. He would as soon draw upon 
 himself the vengeance of the king himself as my 
 father s wrath. " Here," he continued without 
 regarding the astonishment expressed in the coun 
 tenance of his auditor, "here is the bitterness 
 of my lot. It is hard to throw aside the ties of 
 parental duty." 
 
 " But I must not linger here," he added, after 
 a little pause, " it is necessary that I should hasten 
 18 
 
206 CASTINE. 
 
 immediately to the presence of Vandreuil, and 
 by refuting his suspicions, defer his plans a little 
 longer, until some slight preparation for resist 
 ance can be made ; for the moment that Dudley 
 is supposed to be in possession of our secret, the 
 French forces would rush instantly upon the de 
 fenceless frontier." 
 
 " But your words are parables to me," said Lu 
 cy, "you speak of bloodshed and plans of at 
 tack; are we not at peace with our enemies ?" 
 
 "Pardon me," replied the youth, "I should have 
 told you that war is in anticipation, and probably 
 already declared in England, against France and 
 Spain. The Canadian governor has long been in 
 preparation for this event; and his forces are pre 
 pared for an immediate attack. The moment 
 that the declaration of war arrives, the whole 
 country from Casco to Wells, will be devastated. 
 All that I have told you of the war, communicate 
 without delay to your father, all that I have told 
 you of myself, I pray you conceal." 
 
 The cheek of the young maiden had gradually 
 grown pale during this recital ; and at its conclu 
 sion, she had no power to speak. The line of 
 attack comprehended her own beloved village. 
 Horrid pictures of blood and conflagration floated 
 through her mind ; and the awful certainty of the 
 impending evil, left no avenue for hope. 
 
 " Heaven be praised, "she at length exclaimed, 
 as if her mind had at length fastened on some 
 slight alleviation. "The Indians are now our 
 friends, we have none but gallant soldiers for 
 our foes. Heaven be praised we have not again 
 to fear the tomahawk and scalping knife." 
 
 Something like a groan of agony burst from 
 the youth. " Fear every thing here, dear Miss 
 
CAST1NE 207 
 
 Everett. These beautiful villages are meted out 
 for utter destruction. The savages will not re 
 gard their treaty. Every effort has been made 
 to induce them to slight it; and the machina 
 tions of those cruel and fiendish priests have at 
 last prevailed." 
 
 " Talk not of the priests," said Lucy, her eye 
 kindling with sudden indignation. "Cruel and 
 fiendish as they may be, they are but tools to that 
 one master spirit of iniquity who excites and gov 
 erns them all. The Baron Castine hath surely 
 learned wickedness from no mortal teacher, and if 
 the spirit of darkness doth indeed come to our world 
 in human form" she paused "It is plain, I see 
 it, sir, Castine hath again lighted up their wrath, 
 and there is no more peace for us." Her voice 
 was choked with agony and the cold perspiration 
 stood on her brow. " It is time that we part, 
 sir," she added, after a few moment s silence, 
 "you must fly from danger, and I must go home 
 and prepare to meet it." 
 
 The stranger had become meanwhile deeply agi 
 tated." Now that you are warned of the coming 
 evil, surely you will not remain to meet it. Dear 
 Miss Everett I pray you hasten from the scene of 
 danger." 
 
 " My father is a pastor, replied Lucy looking 
 sorrowfully up, " he will not forsake his flock and 
 I cannot forsake him. Farewell." She turned 
 hastily and drawing the veil over her tearful 
 countenance, returned by the path which led di 
 rectly to the garden behind her father s dwelling. 
 
 Jane Grant waited at the gate to welcome her 
 approach, and they entered the parlor together. 
 The clergyman and his wife were at their eve 
 ning repast, and a single glance was sufficient 
 
208 CASTINE. 
 
 to convince the daughter, that some train of 
 painful reflections already occupied her father s 
 mind. 
 
 "Jane, "said Mrs. Everett, "hath your father 
 returned from the south ?" 
 
 The reply was in the affirmative. 
 
 " Brought he then the tidings from England?" 
 
 " I heard none, sir. He was talking princi 
 pally of two singular looking strangers who over 
 took him a little before he reached the village, and 
 who seemed to be coming on a matter of life and 
 death." 
 
 " Which way were they travelling ? " inquired 
 Lucy. 
 
 " They tarried a moment at the inn, and then 
 went off again at full speed on the northern road. 
 They seemed to be foreigners and persons of 
 distinction." 
 
 " And what news from England dear father ?" 
 continued Lucy with breathless interest, while 
 the warnings of the stranger flashed painfully 
 over her mind. 
 
 " You may as well know it now," exclaimed 
 the clergyman with a hasty effort. " Great Brit 
 ain has declared war against France and Spain ; 
 and it is more than probable that the French 
 colonies will commence hostilities immediate 
 ly. We must prepare for war again in all its 
 horrors." The persons who listened to this com 
 munication, seemed variously affected by it. Jane 
 Grant manifested only unmingled surprise and 
 apprehension ; but when Mrs. Everett had utter 
 ed her first exclamation of distress, she cast on 
 Lucy a glance which seemed to say, " the mys 
 terious conversation is explained, The man 
 
CASTINE. 209 
 
 whose life you have saved was the spy of our 
 enemy." 
 
 Mr. Everett continued. "It cannot be ex 
 pected that the fury of the war will fall upon 
 this portion of the country ; for the eastern In 
 dians who have recently become our friends will 
 furnish us with the best safeguard. Yet ought 
 we not the less to mourn for our brethren, whom 
 God hath so grievously afflicted. The ways of 
 heaven are dark," he added, rising and pacing 
 the floor. " Our wretched country hath not yet 
 recovered from the wounds and bruises of the 
 late war," and he groaned bitterly. " But our 
 Heavenly Father knoweth what we need, and he 
 will not surely blot out his people s name from 
 among the nations. 5 
 
 " Father," said Lucy " arc you sure that the sav 
 ages will remain true to us? The French are a 
 subtle people, and remember the Baron Cast ;;e." 
 
 Mr. Everett looked upon his daughter with 
 some surprise. "You speak reasonably, my 
 child, strange that I myself had not rc^i .. -red 
 these things, but my mind was overcome with the 
 greatness of our calamity. True, true," ne con 
 tinued, " were our Indian friends to become trait 
 ors, we must expect incursions (rcm the foe, and 
 that immediately." 
 
 " My father" said Lucy " I haye received sure 
 intelligence, that the treacherous Castino and his 
 priests have indeed won over t ie Indians, not 
 withstanding their treaty, and they are at this 
 moment prepared to assist in laying waste our 
 villages. We lie upon the very frontier. Within 
 a short distance is an armed force who wait onljr 
 for the news you have just communicated a? the sig 
 nal of destruction. Without doubt they will be 
 
210 CASTING. 
 
 apprized of it as soon as ourselves, nay I have reas 
 on to believe that the strangers who were has 
 tening with such rapidity to the north, are the 
 bearers of this intelligence." Every eye was 
 fixed upon Lucy in amazement. 
 
 "And how know you this, Lucy?" said Mr. 
 Everett, endeavoring by the sternness of his look 
 to conceal his emotion. 
 
 " How, I cannot tell you, pardon me father, 
 my intelligence is true, there is no time for 
 words. Dear father is it indeed too late for re 
 sistance ?" Mr. Everett gazed a moment on his 
 daughter in silence, and a sudden light seemed to 
 flash upon his mind. 
 
 "The young Canadian Ah! I see it now. 
 Jane Grant," he continued turning to the young 
 lady who pale and trembling was leaning in the 
 window seat. " Go home as quickly as possible 
 and tell your father, I desire he would hasten 
 forthwith to Boston and inform the court of the 
 ruin that is prepared for us. An armed force 
 must be raised without delay. Ah ! I compre 
 hend it all now, this comes not suddenly upon 
 Vaudreuil. Hasten my child," he continued ad 
 dressing Jane, " give the message to your father, 
 and pray him not to sleep until he sees that help 
 is prepared for us, and Lucy, my daughter," he 
 continued as Jane departed swiftly on her errand, 
 " you must run with all speed to the village and 
 give the alarm. Let the bell be rung to assem 
 ble the people, and when they ask wherefore, tell 
 them that the Indians are coming we know not 
 how soon, perhaps this night, to murder us on 
 our hearth stones. I have letters to write to the 
 frontier towns and will be with them presently." 
 
 Lucy waited not for a second bidding, and 
 
CABT1NE. 211 
 
 the alarm was quickly spread. In a few min 
 utes from the time of her departure, the sound of 
 the bell rose from the village; and Mrs. Everett 
 who was gazing from the window, perceived by 
 the dim twilight the appearance of hastily gather 
 ing crowds. 
 
 When the clergyman at length entered the 
 church which had been appointed as the place of 
 assembling, he found it occupied by such an as 
 sembly as such an alarm always gathers together. 
 Young maidens and matrons, and wailing infants, 
 youth and grey headed magistrates, were mingled 
 in one crowd ; and the partial illumination of 
 the candles which some in their haste had 
 brought with them, served to increase the singu 
 lar effect, revealing here and there the pale 
 countenances of the assembly. There was a 
 confused noise of questions without answer, and 
 the bell was still pealing through the valley. 
 That there was some dreadful cause of alarm, 
 every one comprehended ; but beyond this, all 
 was horrid uncertainty. 
 
 In the midst of this scene of confusion, Mr. 
 Everett caught a view of his daughter. She was 
 reclining pale and motionless against one of the 
 pillars that supported the pulpit, amid a group 
 of eager listeners, her bonnet was off; and the 
 comb had fallen from her dark and waving curls. 
 
 At the sight of the clergyman, the confusion 
 which prevailed throughout the assembly in some 
 degree subsided ; at the same moment the bell 
 ceased, and having ascended the pulpit the better 
 to command attention, he began calmly and con 
 cisely to state to them their real danger and the 
 cause of their assembling. They listened with 
 eager and deathlike stillness. The clergyman 
 
212 CASTINE. 
 
 assured them that he had despatched a petition 
 to Boston for immediate aid. " But even this," 
 he continued, " may arrive too late. We are not 
 ignorant of savage warfare. We know they 
 sound no trumpet before them. Perhaps this 
 night the war whoop may echo through our dwel 
 lings." A simultaneous groan burst from the 
 crowd. " At all events, let them not find us un 
 prepared. We can all fight, and fight willingly 
 that cruel and treacherous race, the enemy of 
 God and man. Brethren we have arms, and we 
 will not be scalped unresistingly. As for the 
 women and children," he continued glancing 
 around on their pale faces, " they have nothing to 
 do, but go home and pray the Almighty for his 
 strong defence. We can all rest " beneath the 
 shadow of his wing." 
 
 One by one, the females and children now re 
 tired. Of those who remained, a guard was form 
 ed for the defence of the town. The better to 
 accomplish their scheme, it was agreed that the 
 houses without the valley should be abandoned, 
 and that one third of the guard should be con 
 stantly upon duty. These resolutions having 
 been entered into, they departed with all speed 
 to carry them into effect. 
 
 Lucy had left the church just at the time 
 when nothing had been resolved upon ; and an 
 hour of more agitating suspense she had never 
 passed than that which intervened between her 
 own return and her father s. During this period 
 she related to her mother the particulars of the 
 stranger s conversation ; and she was still stand 
 ing at the window, watching with eagerness the 
 hastily moving lights in the village, when the 
 sound of near voices met her ear. A group of 
 
CASTINE. 213 
 
 figures, faintly discerned in the darkness, were 
 seen approaching the cottage ; and a moment 
 after, Lucy met her father at the gate. 
 
 " We must abandon our home my child," he 
 said, " it is too far from the center to lie within 
 the line of defence." Mrs. Everett approached 
 the door. " Hasten Sarah," said the clergyman, 
 " and seek for yourself all that is most dear to 
 you. There are some without, waiting to convey 
 our most valuable goods." 
 
 There was no time for remonstrance or reply, 
 and the mother and daughter silently prepared to 
 obey the injunction. All was now confusion in 
 the cottage. Where every object was so endear 
 ed by ancient ties of association, it was hard to 
 resolve which should be abandoned to the ven 
 geance of the savage. The domestic who had 
 been speedily summoned from her now useless 
 department in the kitchen, was soon engaged in 
 tearing up and packing the various articles which 
 accident first threw in her way. The clergyman 
 had gone to his study to select from thence the 
 most valuable papers ; and Mrs. Everett was 
 laying away in a basket, the contents of an old 
 fashioned cupboard, consisting of a few precious 
 relics of family plate, together with a more mo 
 dern and less costly set of China. The little 
 yard before the door was soon filled with promis 
 cuous heaps of boxes, chairs, and tables. At 
 length the arrangements were hastily completed, 
 and the men departed with their burthen. Lucy 
 and her mother, followed by Amy, were slowly 
 descending the hill, and Mr. Everett, after turn 
 ing the key upon his solitary dwelling hastened to 
 accompany them. 
 
 We need not stop to describe the sensations of 
 
- 
 
 214 CASTINE. 
 
 this sorrowful party, as they moved silently along 
 the path to the village ; those who have ever felt 
 the sudden dissolution of the strong attachments 
 which bind to a beloved home, may easily ima 
 gine them. They had nearly half completed 
 their walk, and Mr. Everett perceived with plea 
 sure that the houses which composed the village 
 were already under the protection of an armed 
 and efficient guard, when Mrs. Everett suddenly 
 paused and turned to her husband. 
 
 " The picture, Mr. Everett ! The picture. I have 
 surely forgotten it." There was a momentary em 
 barrassment. 
 
 " Mother, I will return for you," exclaimed 
 Lucy, " and Amy will go with me ; where shall 
 we find the picture?" Mr. Everett hesitated. 
 
 " It is a dangerous time to walk alone, Lucy." 
 
 " But, my father, you are fatigued, and you look 
 ill. You cannot walk to the cottage again to 
 night. Do not fear for us. Amy and myself are 
 young and active, and we will join you by the 
 time you reach the guard," and after obtain 
 ing her mother s directions, without further de 
 lay they turned to retrace their steps to the cot 
 tage. 
 
 The moon was rising, and there was something 
 mournful in the appearance of the deserted cot 
 tage, with its dark back grounds of evergreens. 
 The windows which had been wont, at this hour, 
 to send forth a pleasant light, now looked dark 
 and cheerless. Lucy lifted the latch of the little 
 gate. There was no sound of glad, kind voices 
 within; the stillness of the grave hung over the 
 dwelling. The heroism of poor Amy was so en 
 tirely overcome by the air of gloom which perva 
 ded the whole scene, that when Lucy had at 
 
GASTINI. 215 
 
 length succeeded in opening the door, she re 
 fused to enter ; and sat down trembling upon the 
 bench of the little honey-suckled porch. With a 
 painful effort, Lucy hastened through the dark 
 and lonely apartments. The faint light of the 
 moon was just struggling through the windows, 
 and tears involuntarily rushed to her eyes, as it 
 revealed to her the dismantled appearance of the 
 little parlor. Familiar as she was with the ob 
 jects of this apartment, it was impossible for her 
 to discover the key of the locker, without first ob 
 taining a light. Her hand had already fastened 
 upon a little lamp, that stood on the mantel-piece, 
 and she now made her way into the kitchen. A 
 few embers still remained on the hearth, and by 
 means of these, she soon succeeded in relighting 
 the lamp, and in a few moments more found her 
 self in possession of the object of her search. 
 
 A sudden and violent scream from Amy, at 
 that moment arrested her attention. In an in 
 stant she was at the door, just in time to witness 
 the broad illumination which fora moment lit up 
 the valley, ere a sound like the peal of distant 
 thunder at once revealed its cause. A more 
 fearful and wretched situation than that in which 
 they now found themselves, can scarcely be con 
 ceived. The foe had indeed come, for blaze after 
 blaze, and fresh vollies of musquetry, now rapidly 
 succeeded each other, nay, in the distant and 
 momentary glare, she saw, or fancied she saw, the 
 well known uniform of the French soldiery, in 
 terspersed with the tall figures of the Indian war 
 riors. 
 
 Her exertions had not then been in vain. A 
 guard had indeed been raised, one strong in 
 heavenly faith, and in the might of human affec- 
 
CASTINE. 
 
 tions. Many a firm heart must be laid low, ere 
 harm could come to those within the enclosure; 
 but here was she, far from them all, in this dread 
 ful moment, alone and unprotected. Horrid and 
 sickening emotions filled her mind. Death was 
 already in the valley, for even at this distance, 
 the voice of strong agony was distinctly heard ; 
 arid such cries and groans as those that now 
 mingled faintly in the din of battle, she felt that 
 death alone could inspire. The exclamations of 
 Amy wild with terror, served only to increase her 
 distress. 
 
 She still stood in the porch, gazing in passive 
 silence upon the valley. Horror had frozen every 
 faculty, and she now waited in calm expectation 
 for the moment when the conflagration of the vil 
 lage should complete the horrors of the scene. 
 But a new idea of her situation suddenly filled 
 her mind, and bringing with it the hope of safety 
 aj once aroused her from this torpor. The house 
 was at some distance from any other, and quite 
 out of the path of the enemy; the moon was ob 
 scured with clouds, and the possibility, nay, the 
 probability, that it might escape their notice, 
 was sufficient to banish despair. 
 
 She now regretted extremely that she had al 
 lowed the lamp to remain burning in the parlor, 
 as she had thus considerably increased the chan 
 ces of discovery ; and followed by Amy, to whom 
 a portion of her hopes were already communica 
 ted, she hastened to extinguish it. The door was 
 quickly locked and barred ; and with a sudden 
 animation, they began to devise all possible 
 means for their security. Even in case of an at 
 tack, Lucy trusted that the lonely and deserted 
 air ofthe house, together with the appearance of 
 
CASTINE. 217 
 
 the apartments stripped of their furniture, by in 
 ducing them to believe it uninhabited, might still 
 secure its safety. Amy had just succeeded in 
 closing the shutters of the kitchen, and was en 
 gaged in heaping upon the embers a few light 
 splinters when the sound of a measured tread 
 broke upon the stillness. " They are coming," 
 she shrieked, in an agony of fear. 
 
 " Hush hush" whispered Lucy, "as you love 
 life be quiet." Meanwhile the heavy, monoto 
 nous sound which had excited their dread, drew 
 each moment nearer; and Lucy motioning Amy 
 again to be quiet, ventured carefully to enter the 
 opened door of the parlor. She dared not ap 
 proach the window, but she could distinctly per 
 ceive that a small party of soldiers had that mo 
 ment reached the summit of the acclivity, and 
 were now within a stone s throw of the house. 
 There was a short and dreadful silence, interrupt 
 ed only by the voice of the officer. Though his 
 orders were given in French, Lucy understood 
 them sufficiently to comprehend that they were 
 to remain in their present situation, while a few 
 of them moved forward for a careful reconnoitre 
 of the house and grounds. They were soon has 
 tily scrambling over the pickets, and Lucy retired 
 again to the kitchen. 
 
 " What did he mean," said a low voice under 
 the window," to send us puffing up the hill for the 
 sake of burning this old deserted house. Not a 
 cat stirring ! Upon my word, I do not believe it 
 has been inhabited since the flood." 
 
 "But you know," replied the other, "we must 
 make a division of that saucy guard. We may 
 fire upon them all night, at this rate, without 
 effecting any thing." 
 
 19 
 
218 CASTINE. 
 
 " And is De Rouville so witless as to think that 
 they will come running forth to save these rotten 
 shingles? See," continued the same voice, "they 
 have left us nothing for booty, but that old fashion 
 ed locker. I will burn the house in very spite to 
 these cunning puritans." 
 
 " Ah ! They are more cunning than you dream 
 of," exclaimed the second voice. " When we 
 left the village a bright light shone through these 
 windows, and if I am not mistaken, it still con 
 tains human beings notwithstanding its deserted 
 look. Some too, whose lives are of importance. 
 I believe De Rouville learned as much before he 
 sent us." 
 
 " At any rate we can soon settle the matter," 
 said the first voice, in a tone which made Lucy 
 shudder, though she could not understand the 
 meaning of his threat. 
 
 There was another silence of considerable du 
 ration, and then light streamed up from under the 
 windows with so sudden a blaze, that an involun 
 tary scream of horror burst from her lips. " They 
 have fired the house, Amy," she exclaimed in the 
 anguish of despair, and was hastening to unfasten 
 the door. But Amy caught her arm. 
 
 "Do not go out, dear Miss Lucy, the Indians 
 are waiting there for us, and it is better to die 
 here than fall into their hands." At that mo 
 ment a column of smoke and flame burst from the 
 door of the parlor ; and almost suffocated and 
 dead with horror, Amy herself threw open the 
 door which led to the garden. To escape to the 
 forest on the hill, was now the only alternative. 
 They had already crossed the garden and Lucy 
 leaned a moment over the gate to undo the fas 
 tening, when the loud and fearful war-whoop 
 
CASTINE. 
 
 219 
 
 arrested her purpose. The clouds rolled away 
 from the moon, and she saw that they were sur 
 rounded with a fierce circle of waving tomahawks. 
 All that they could do for life was done, and Lucy 
 leaned against the pickets, to watch the coming 
 up of her foe. At that moment a fainting, like 
 death, came over -her, the forms of the savage 
 warriors faded from her eye, and insensibility suc 
 ceeded to the long excitement of agonized feel 
 ing. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 WHEN consciousness again dawned upon the 
 soul of Lucy Everett, the objects around her were 
 entirely changed. It was still night, the moon 
 was in its meridian, and she was reclining on the 
 ground, in the midst of an evergreen forest. At 
 first she supposed that this was none other than 
 that which adorned the hill behind her father s 
 dwelling; and fancied that by some unknown 
 means she had escaped from the power of her 
 enemy, in time to obtain its concealment. But 
 a second glance convinced her that she was now 
 far away from her beloved home, and a captive of 
 the enemy. 
 
 The forest extended in every direction as far 
 as the eye could penetrate ; every where one un- 
 mingled and solemn mass of waving foliage met 
 her eye, save when she turned it to the pale blue 
 skies above. Near her, and stretched upon the 
 ground in a deep and listless slumber, she now 
 perceived the companion of her misfortunes. 
 The countenance of Amy was excessively pale, 
 and had it not been for her low and heavy breath 
 ing she would have deemed it the sleep of death. 
 But that which excited her deepest horror was the 
 appearance of several Indian warriors, reposing 
 at short distances around them. They had cho- 
 
CASTINE. 221 
 
 sen their resting places among the thick under 
 wood, so that she had not at first been aware of 
 their presence. The long knife and tomahawk 
 still lay beside them, and in many instances were 
 yet strongly clenched. All seemed buried in 
 deep slumber, and her first thought was to arouse 
 her sleeping companion, that they might together 
 effect their escape. She was slowly rising for 
 this purpose when from beneath the branch of a 
 large tree before her, the eye of an Indian tnet 
 her own with a fierce and steady glance. The 
 savages had not left their captives unguarded, 
 all resistance was in vain, so pillowing her head 
 upon the grassy hillock she at length sunk into 
 the slumber, which fear had induced her to 
 feign. 
 
 Ere Lucy again woke to the remembrance of 
 her captivity, a strong sunlight was piercing the 
 sombre shades of the forest, and the loud guttu 
 ral tones of her Indian guides were mingling 
 harshly on her ear. She arose and gazed earnest 
 ly around her. Amy was no where in sight ; and 
 the dreadful suspicion of her probable fate, press 
 ed heavily on the heart of her young mistress. 
 The noise of rustling foliage now drew the In 
 dians about her, while they still continued their 
 singular and animated debate. Meanwhile that 
 strength and decision of thought, which had long 
 been nursed in secret within the bosom of Lucy 
 Everett, was seeking to reveal itself in appropri 
 ate action. The character of the Indians as a 
 people had long been known to her ; and though 
 that instinctive horror with which the early set 
 tlers of New-England naturally regarded this 
 savage race, prevented her in some measure from 
 appreciating those nobler traits of character, 
 19* 
 
222 CASTINE. 
 
 which we who live in later days have leisure to 
 admire, she still knew that they were human be 
 ings, and that there are in every human heart, 
 some tender chords to vibrate at the touch of a 
 skilful hand ; that however true to them as a race 
 those stern features of cruelty, there were still in 
 dividual exceptions. She therefore determined 
 to analyze the various expressions of character in 
 her savage companions, and to endeavor if possi 
 ble to excite in her own behalf, the glow of be 
 nevolent feeling ; for without doubt a long and 
 painful journey was before her, unless indeed 
 some sudden kindling of wrath should sacrifice 
 her at once to their fury. 
 
 While these thoughts were revolving in her 
 mind, the Indians continued their debate around 
 her, with many wild and fierce gestures. They 
 gazed frequently upon their beautiful captive; 
 and Lucy fancied that, every time, their glances 
 returned upon her with a calmer and less fero 
 cious aspect. There was indeed much in her 
 appearance to soften the resentment of her sav 
 age guards; for while her youth and the tender 
 ness of her sex claimed their pity, the beauty of 
 her person, and the high and graceful demeanor, 
 seemed well fitted to call forth the more power 
 ful principle of admiration. Beauty has its influ 
 ence even with the savage, and Lucy Everett s 
 was precisely of that style of which an Indian 
 would be most likely to acknowledge the power. 
 There was no obsequious and fawning servility, 
 no meek intreaty for life the maiden knew too 
 well the character of her foe ; a haughty smile 
 was on her lip, her step was free and proud, as 
 she moved through the windings of the forest, 
 and the glance of the Indian frequently sunk 
 
CAST INK. 223 
 
 beneath the brilliant flashes of spirit that gleamed 
 from the dark eye of the captive maiden. There 
 was also manifested on all occasions a kind of 
 fearless confidence in their generosity, exactly 
 suited to win the hearts of her proud companions. 
 Whenever danger approached, she drew nearer 
 to them, as if claiming their protection, and the 
 sweet and gentle smile witii which their acts of 
 kindness were rewarded, was rendered more ac 
 ceptable by the usual reserve of her manner. 
 
 These exertions were not in vain. A spirit of 
 kindness was gradually diffusing itself through 
 the hearts of some of her companions, and now 
 only waited for a meet occasion, or some slight 
 increase of excitement, to reveal itself in her 
 favor. 
 
 The savage travelers seemed to know no wea 
 riness; from the first break of morning, till the 
 last glimmerings of day, with untiring steps, they 
 pursued their route through the wilderness, paus 
 ing only to partake of their light refreshments. 
 It was the evening of the third day since their 
 
 departure from H , and the moon was shining 
 
 bright through the openings of the forest, ere 
 they had selected their halting place. This was 
 at length chosen on the banks of a tributary 
 stream ; whose murmurs as it dashed over the 
 stones in its channel, were all that interrupted the 
 quiet of nature. To the lovers of the picturesque, 
 if any had been there to look on, the group, the 
 hour, the place, would have presented a scene of 
 peculiar interest. The beautiful and dejected 
 young captive, the forms of her Indian guards 
 scattered in strange contrast on the turf and hil 
 locks around her, the vivid touches of moonlight 
 on the ragged wave below, the flickering and fit- 
 
224 CASTTNE. 
 
 ful glare of the immense blaze which had been 
 kindled as well for safety, as for the preparation 
 of their evening repast, together with the gloomy 
 mass of forest which no ray might pierce, extend 
 ing vast and dim around them, were the most ob 
 vious features of the picture. 
 
 With the exception of Lucy, by far the most 
 interesting and prominent figure was that of a tall 
 and well formed youth, reclining against a frag 
 ment of rock in the center of the group below, 
 and at that moment an object of fixed and earnest 
 attention to every individual which composed it. 
 At another moment, in an hour of security, Lucy 
 Everett could scarce have regarded without fear 
 and horror the ferocious aspect of the young sav 
 age, his long hair waving in the night breeze, and 
 every feature kindled with a glow of unnatural 
 excitement. But the heart of the captive had 
 become strangely inured to sights like these; 
 and amid all the terror and anguish of her long 
 march, when looks of cunning, and cruelty, and 
 savage hate, glanced upon her from the eyes of 
 her fierce conductors, and angry voices rung 
 around her, there had ever been a tone of kind 
 ness on the lip of the young Alaska, and a look 
 of pity and compassion, softening the sternness of 
 his glance. Alaska was the favorite of the whole 
 party, and the son of the venerable chief who 
 conducted them. Lucy had from the first regard 
 ed him with a feeling of secret confidence; and 
 by degrees and almost insensibly, had begun to 
 hope that he would become her deliverer from 
 captivity. 
 
 But the low tones of the youth had gradually 
 increased in fierceness like the rush of the com 
 ing storm, and now rung high and wild through 
 
CASTINE. 225 
 
 the forest. Every eye was fixed eagerly on him. 
 Some ancient legend, some tale of high and dar 
 ing deeds evidently claimed their attention ; the 
 dark faces around her every moment assuming 
 some new expression of savage triumph, and every 
 lip trembling with exclamations of wild excite 
 ment. Then came a burst of song supported at 
 first only by the mellow tones of Alaska, but 
 gradually swelling and deepening until every 
 voice had mingled svith his, and the wild inspiring 
 melody thrown back on her ear in the loud echoes 
 of the forest, became overpowering. Lucy turned 
 shuddering away, and no longer wondered at their 
 deeds of inhuman daring. But these at last died 
 away ; and on raising her eye amid the silence 
 that succeeded, she perceived with surprise and 
 fear, that the attention of the whole party had 
 become suddenly transferred to herself. Her 
 apprehensions, however, were soon relieved by 
 the gestures of the chief, who, after repeated at 
 tempts, at length succeeded in intimating to her 
 the desire of her companions that she should 
 famish them with a specimen of the songs of her 
 country. Requests in this instance were but com 
 mands ; and Lucy, after revolving in her rnind the 
 various simple airs with which she was familiar, 
 selected one, which, for its exquisite tenderness 
 and depth of melody, was well worthy of the oc 
 casion. It was one of the beautiful and holy 
 hymns of the pilgrims; and as it rose amid that 
 savage throng, now melting on the air in soft and 
 solemn cadences, and now in loud sweet tones 
 ringing through the arches whose echoes were 
 yet dying with the war song of the Indian, the 
 effect was thrilling. Even the stern spirits of the 
 warriors seemed bowed with its influence. The 
 
226 CASTINE. 
 
 strains at length ceased, and a confused murmur, 
 that seemed like approbation, succeeded them. 
 The young Alaska hid his face ; and the fierce 
 eye of the chief, softened with an expression of 
 kindly feeling. 
 
 " Ecoutez, ecoutez" exclaimed a low and dis 
 tinct voice near her. She turned in amazement. 
 Hitherto her only communications had been 
 made by means of gestures ; and the idea that 
 there were any there, who comprehended a lan 
 guage with which she was familiar, was new 
 and pleasing. The voice was that of Alaska ; 
 he had approached her unobserved, and per 
 ceiving himself understood now proceeded to 
 address her in French with ease and fluency. 
 
 "Listen, listen, English maiden. Thou art like 
 my dead sister, and my father loves thee. Elsin- 
 gah was tall, and straight, and beautiful as the 
 morning; her voice was the voice of birds, and 
 her step like the fleet gliding of the deer. But, 
 maiden, the dead leaf hath fallen on her grave; 
 and the voice of Elsingah hath long been silent 
 in her father s dwelling. She hath built her 
 bower, where the roses and violets never die, far 
 away in the land of bright shadows, among the 
 spirits of the brave and beautiful. But, maiden, 
 she hath left us desolate. The old chief still 
 mourns for her, and there is none to call me broth 
 er. And thou art like Elsingah. Thy voice, thy 
 smile, are like hers ; and my father loves thee. 
 English maiden wilt thou be his daughter." 
 
 The young lady seemed in doubt, how to an 
 swer this singular proposal, but Alaska waited for 
 her reply. 
 
 " And who will soothe my own father," she 
 at length exclaimed, vainly endeavoring to re- 
 
CASTINE. 227 
 
 press a tear at the thought of her now desolate 
 home, "and my mother, my own beloved mother," 
 she added in broken tones. "Oh Alaska, if you 
 have mourned for Elsingah, even in the beautiful 
 and happy homes of blessed spirits, think of those 
 who mourn for me a captive, a wretched captive 
 in the power of enemies." 
 
 The youth seemed considerably affected with 
 this appeal ; but the remainder of the party, who 
 had sometime waited in silence, now interrupted 
 the conversation, commanding Alaska to interpret 
 to them the words of the English captive. A 
 cry of displeasure was heard among them as the 
 youth obeyed ; and a long debate succeeded, to 
 the captive fearfully incomprehensible, though 
 conscious that she was herself the subject of it. 
 The old chief joined in it with expression of 
 strong interest repeating frequently the name of 
 Elsinsah, and pointing to her whom he would 
 fain have adopted in her stead. The remainder 
 of the party, however, manifested signs of strong 
 disapprobation, and replied to the proposals of 
 Alaska and their chief with such an air of fierce 
 ness and resolution, that the prisoner could no 
 longer doubt concerning her doom; and cold and 
 darkly fell the fearful truths on her heart the 
 death of an Indian captive was before her. 
 
 Whatever the decision might be, it was evident 
 that the old chief felt himself compelled to ac 
 quiesce in it; and after casting on Lucy a linger 
 ing look of regret, he quickly stretched himself 
 on the earth for his evening repose. His exam 
 ple was soon followed by all except those ap 
 pointed guard for the night ; and Lucy herself, to 
 avoid suspicion, reclined her cheek on the cold 
 and dreary turf. 
 
228 CASTINE. 
 
 It was an hour of bitter suffering; and the 
 young maiden now sought earnestly to recal to 
 her recollection those lessons of holy truth, which 
 in moments of gladness had fallen so lightly on 
 her heart. Earth for her was now no more, its 
 pleasant toils, its gay hopes and affections, were 
 all over, and the grave the lonely and unknown 
 grave was henceforth to be her resting place. 
 The last effort had been made for her, and made 
 in vain ; and the elasticity of youthful hope, 
 which had hitherto borne her with incredible 
 strength and cheerfulness through the perils of 
 her long march, now seemed broken and crushed 
 forever. And after all, she was to die just in the 
 spring-time of her being, far away from all who 
 would have soothed the bitterness of death, and 
 among cruel strangers. The weary night passed 
 away in tears and agony. 
 
 On the first appearance of day, the Indians re 
 newed their march. Lucy still walked by the side 
 of the Chief, but though her eye glanced fre 
 quently over the band, she could no where dis 
 cover the youthful favorite ; and indeed the In 
 dians themselves seemed uneasy at his absence, 
 frequently pausing and searching the openings 
 around them, as if expecting his appearance. At 
 length, about half an hour after sunrise, Alaska 
 suddenly presented himself, springing from the 
 thicket on one side of their path. There were 
 slight symptoms of agitation on his brow; and his 
 companions at first, regarded him with suspicious 
 glances. But a certain air of ease and indiffer 
 ence which the youth soon assumed, together 
 with some slight apology, ere long apparently 
 removed their displeasure. 
 
 The whole party now endeavored to quicken 
 
CASTINE. 229 
 
 their pace, they seemed apprehensive of evil at 
 the slightest noise, manifesting signs of alarm, 
 and drawing more closely around their prisoner. 
 But the depressed spirits and wearied frame of the 
 young captive, could no longer endure the un 
 wonted hardships of her journey. The hope of 
 safety which had hitherto given energy to her 
 steps was gone, and with the recklessness of de 
 spair she now paused suddenly in her path, and 
 supporting herself against the tree that shaded it, 
 declared h rmly that she could nnd would go no 
 further. She had expected death for her temeri 
 ty, but the Indians manifested only surprise and 
 concern ; the most savage of them entreating her 
 to accompany them a little further, and assuring 
 her that she should then find rest and plenty. 
 Scarcely able to comprehend their conduct, with 
 a faint glimmering of hope, she at length yield 
 ed ; and her guides now in some measure accom 
 modated their pace to her exhausted strength. 
 
 Meanwhile the prisoner perceived, with deep 
 regret, that he who had ever manifested the 
 strongest interest in her welfare, seemed, on the 
 present occasion, to regard her with indifference, 
 and even aversion. Alaska was as usual the 
 amusement of the party. He laughed and sung, 
 and recited to them tales of ancient valor; but 
 he seemed now perse veringly to avoid her pres 
 ence, and there was a kind ot heartless gaiety 
 in his whole manner which she had never before 
 discovered. 
 
 But in the midst of those bursts of merriment, 
 the eye of the young Indian suddenly rested on 
 hers with a glance of deep and secret meaning. 
 There was an expression of mingled pity, appre 
 hension and hope ; and repressing the exclama- 
 
 20 
 
230 CASTINE. 
 
 tion of astonishment that arose to her lip, she 
 became at once convinced that this apparent un 
 concern in her fate, was only assumed for some 
 mysterious purpose of kindness. Unwilling how 
 ever to attract the suspicions of her companions, by 
 too close a scrutiny of his conduct, with a strong 
 effort she confined her glances to the path be 
 neath and the dense thicket before her. 
 
 " Move slower, maiden as you love life, move 
 slower," exclaimed a low voice near her as with 
 a painful effort she was seeking to quicken her 
 movement. She looked up in astonishment. 
 The young warrior was standing on an elevated 
 stone at a little distance before her; his bow was 
 drawn, and he seemed deeply intent upon some 
 distant aim. She almost doubted the evidence 
 of her senses ; for though the voice was that of 
 Alaska, there was nothing in his countenance 
 which intimated the slightest consciousness of 
 her presence, and at that moment darting sud 
 denly from the rock with a yell of savage delight, 
 he disappeared in the thicket. 
 
 After ascertaining that this mysterious com 
 munication had been listened to by none but her 
 self, she began at once to comply with the in 
 junction, being now again fully aware that in 
 advancing she was only hastening on to a more 
 cruel and aggravated doom. But the faces of 
 her conductors, exhibited symptoms of high im 
 patience, as she again relaxed her efforts, some 
 times almost pausing on her way. They again 
 renewed their promises of speedy rest ; and these 
 being now ineffectual, threatenings were resorted 
 to. But the energy of despair was in her heart, 
 she gazed calmly and resolutely on the glisten- 
 
CASTINE. 231 
 
 ing tomahawk, and her step only became yet 
 more languid. 
 
 Meanwhile Alaska and several of his young 
 companions had moved on with a rapid step, and 
 now the sounds of a wild and savage song came 
 ringing through the woods. It was supported by 
 several voices ; but as they drew near, the prison 
 er could plainly distinguish amid the pauses, at 
 the conclusion of every stanza, the single tone of 
 Alaska chnnting on in low and almost inaudible 
 strains. The inherent love of life had quickened 
 every sense and she was not long in perceiving 
 that words of secret intelligence lingered in the 
 seemingly unmeaning sound. 
 
 " Listen, listen, English maiden," at length 
 caught her ear ; and with downcast eye and 
 quickened breathing, she waited for his myste 
 rious communication. It came at length in low 
 and fitful strains. " Fear not. Wait here. They 
 will not harm you." And the voice of the musi 
 cian again burst forth in the wild accents of his 
 native tongue. Irresolute, and almost overcome 
 with emotion, she awaited the conclusion of the 
 succeeding stanza. " Another hour, but one 
 hour more, wait here, or in yonder valley, and you 
 shall not die. The white conquerors will not 
 murder you." 
 
 A cry of joy almost escaped the lips of the 
 young captive ; but with a quick effort she con 
 cealed her emoiion, still moving on silently and 
 languidly as before. They were now descending 
 a hill into a little sheltered nook, overhung with 
 birch and maple. It was about noon, the sun had 
 become exceedingly oppressive, and it was the 
 time which the Indians had usually selected for 
 refreshment. Lucy ventured therefore, to de- 
 
232 CASTINE. 
 
 mand of them an hour s repose, assuring them, 
 by signs, that the strength thus acquired would 
 more than compensate for the loss of time. Af 
 ter a short debate, the Indians, with much dissa 
 tisfaction, complied with the request. 
 
 With an air of as much composure as she could 
 assume, Lucy now reclined herself in the shadow 
 of the clustering maples, and leaning her head 
 on her hand, feigned that repose, the need of 
 which, she had urged as an excuse for their pres 
 ent delay. 
 
 Meanwhile a profound stillness prevailed among 
 the savages. They spoke occasionally in low 
 whispers; and whenever Lucy ventured to lift 
 her eye, she perceived that they were gazing 
 anxiously around them, as if in constant expec- 
 tion of an alarm. The time rolled slowly on ; 
 to the agitated heart of the captive, minutesseemed 
 hours, and still no signs of the promised deliver 
 ance. The prescribed period had indeed nearly 
 elapsed, and Lucy was already shuddering at 
 the gathering signs of impatience on the coun 
 tenances of her conductors when her eye be 
 came suddenly fixed on the opposite thicket. A 
 human face, fiercely painted, was peeping out 
 from among the foliage, and quietly and unob- 
 servedly surveying the scene before him. Not 
 the slightest noise announced his presence, and he 
 continued for several moments cautiously direct 
 ing his glances upon the unconscious objects of 
 his scrutiny. At length, perceiving that the 
 prisoner had discovered his presence, he moved 
 slowly down the bank followed by a close but 
 single file of Indian warriors. 
 
 The surprised guards started hastily on their 
 feet; but it was too late for flight, and the high 
 
CASTINE. 233 
 
 authority of the chief who now approached them, 
 was such as to preclude the idea of open combat. 
 The fierce words which immediately ensued, were 
 to Lucy totally unintelligible ; but it was evident 
 that on the part of her guides an expression of 
 servility mingled with angry looks, while the 
 countenance of the stranger chief exhibited only 
 haughty reproach. The altercation was at last 
 concluded, and the victor approached the tree 
 beneath which his prisoner reclined. There was 
 nothing in the appearance of the stranger at all 
 calculated to soothe her fears, and yet after 
 glancing a moment upon her Indian friend, she 
 was convinced that this was the anticipated suc 
 cor. The chief hastened to inform her that she 
 was to accompany him; and, with a fresh impulse 
 of strength and hope, she prepared to obey the 
 intimation. 
 
 When the little summit was once more gained, 
 Lucy Everett turned for a farewell glance at those 
 whom, a few minutes before, she had regarded as 
 her murderers. They were still standing in the 
 same posture in which she had left them, gazing 
 after her with looks of deadly hate, and even now 
 scarcely restraining the expressions of their sav 
 age resentment. Alaska had separated himself 
 from the group ; and, as long as Lucy could dis 
 cern the sheltered nook, he was still standing with 
 folded arms, and gazing after her with looks of 
 mingled joy and sadness. The captive waved 
 her hand in token of gratitude, and the nodding 
 foliage soon hid the whole company from her 
 view. 
 
 20* 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 NOTHING interrupted the profound silence with 
 which the whole party now moved forward, save 
 the breaking of the long grass beneath their feet, 
 and the sound of rustling boughs, as their strong 
 clusters parted before them. They had retraced 
 for some time, the path which Lucy had so re 
 cently trodden, when the leader of the band 
 plunged into the midst of a dark thicket to the 
 left, commanding the rest to follow him. The 
 way had now become more intricate than ever, 
 and notwithstanding the utmost exertions of the 
 impatient travelers, the progress made was but 
 inconsiderable, the foremost in the march fre 
 quently pausing to hew away the tangled bushes 
 which obstructed their steps. 
 
 These interruptions, however, occasioned no 
 inconvenience to the young captive; and indeed 
 the intervals of rest thus afforded, together with 
 the slow pace thus necessarily adopted, were all 
 which prevented her light frame from sinking 
 under her fatigues. 
 
 The beams of a descending sun threw a faint 
 and obstructed radiance on their way, as they at 
 length silently emerged into a wide and well trod 
 den path, which intersected the one they had 
 previously trodden. They all gazed eagerly 
 
CASTINE. 235 
 
 forward, and amid the openings of the foliage 
 was now plainly discoverable the appearance of 
 distant water. Then followed a brief interchange 
 of signals and expressive glances among the 
 guides, and again they moved silently on. The 
 darkness was now every moment increasing ; and 
 the eye of the captive, weary of gazing on the 
 endless and unvarying succession of forest and 
 sky, sunk heavily downward. Her grieved spirit 
 wandered sorrowfully away to the distant friends 
 and home, that she doubted not were lost to her 
 forever, until the strong and beautiful pictures of 
 memory seemed living realities; and the thick 
 ening gloom of the forest, and the forms of her 
 stern and silent companions, only as the moving 
 pageant of some troubled dream. 
 
 A sudden halt in the movement of the advanced 
 guard, now attracted her attention, and she be 
 held herself at once standing on the margin of a 
 wide river. With the exception of two, her guard 
 had suddenly deserted her, leaving her to exam 
 ine at her lei-sure, the picturesque beauty of the 
 opposite shore, now softened with the shades of 
 the deepening twilight. 
 
 After a short interval the Indians reappeared, 
 dragging from the concealment of the thicket 
 several small and rude canoes. These were spee 
 dily launched, and the chief again approached 
 the prisoner. Lucy turned for a moment, shud 
 dering from the cold dark wave, but there was no 
 alternative. With a glance of fervent but un- 
 murmured supplication to heaven, she now fol 
 lowed her guide to the margin of the stream, and 
 was soon seated beside him in the rude canoe. 
 The sound of the plashing wave echoed mourn 
 fully in the stillnes, the shore seemed receeding 
 
230 CASTINE. 
 
 behind them, and in a few moments more, they 
 were sailing quietly down the current of the 
 stream. 
 
 The broad river was now gradually widen 
 ing into a bold and majestic bay; and Lucy 
 soon found herself, in that frail bark, and with 
 that savage companion, alone on an inlet of 
 the wide sea. Meanwhile one by one the stars 
 of heaven shone out from the soft twilight, 
 while the outline of the opposite shore seemed 
 every moment to grow more wild and strange, 
 amid the gathering shadows. But the eyes of 
 all were now directed to a bold and woody 
 promontory, jutting forth from the eastern shore 
 at no great distance below them. 
 
 A shape like that of a fortress now appeared 
 on its summit, but often ere this had the fantas 
 tic skill of nature mocked the weary eye with 
 views of distant towns and cities. The illusion, 
 however, if such it was, seemed only to grow 
 more strong and distinct upon a nearer survey. 
 Indeed as they gradually neared the shore the 
 dark building with its strong outworks and bar 
 riers of defence, might no longer be mistaken, 
 though the deep obscurity which enveloped the 
 objects of the shore, prevented minute observa 
 tions. 
 
 Her companion now muttering a few unintelli 
 gible phrases, made rapidly towards the object otf 
 her curiosity, the other canoes following closely 
 in their rear. A loud quick challenge was now 
 heard from the shore, while brilliant streams of 
 light issuing from the buildings above, seemed to 
 render the darkness without more gloomy by its 
 contrast. The watchword had been given by 
 her guides, and in a few moments more, they 
 
CASTIXR. 237 
 
 were standing on the low landing point just he- 
 neat ii the fortress. 
 
 The idea of her wild and singular situation, 
 rushed painfully to the mind of the captive, as, 
 following the steps of her guide, she no\? per 
 ceived that they were approaching the haunts of 
 civilized men. There was a confused mingling 
 of human tones, the song, the whistle, and the 
 boisterous laugh, the sounds of heavy steps echo 
 ing on the pavement within, the stirring tones of 
 the fife and drum, and amid their brief interludes 
 the notes of a softer and more distant music. 
 They had already passed the entrenchments, and 
 half fainting with terror and embarrassment, Lucy 
 soon found herself standing amid a sudden glare 
 of light at the entrance of the building, every 
 sense dazzled and bewildered with this unexpect 
 ed transition from the gloom and silence of the 
 forest. 
 
 The apartment into which the whole party 
 were now slowly entering was a high and ex 
 tremely spacious hall illuminated by means of 
 lamps suspended from the ceiling. Many and 
 various were the forms which now presented 
 themselves, issuing from the numerous rooms with 
 which the hall communicated. Servants were 
 hurrying 1o and fro, soldiers in the gay French 
 uniform, gathered in little groups talking and 
 singing in their foreign tongue, while others 
 whose rich dress and haughty step denoted them 
 officers of rank, were slowly moving through the 
 apartment. Neither was the prospect bounded 
 by the bewildering succession of objects which 
 the hall itself presented. The doors on either 
 side were constantly opening, revealing at <-M ry 
 moment a glimpse of the objects within. Light 
 
238 CASTINE. 
 
 music floated from the one directly opposite the 
 spot where the savages and their captive were 
 stationed ; there was a sound of quick steps mo 
 ving within to its melody, and now there appear 
 ed the form of an elegant female gliding for a 
 moment before the opening door. It would not 
 be expected that in a situation like this so singu 
 lar a groupe could long remain unnoticed. Cu 
 rious glances began one by one to fasten upon it, 
 until Lucy Everett would have welcomed joyful 
 ly even the gloom and shadow of the wilderness. 
 
 The various objects around her had however 
 exerted so absorbing an influence upon her at 
 tention, that the absence of the Indian chief had 
 not been noticed, until she now perceived him 
 approaching from a distant part of the hall. He 
 had no sooner rejoined the party, than command 
 ing the remainder of his followers to await his re 
 turn at the gate of the palace, he selected two of 
 their number, and immediately sallied forth again 
 in the same direction, accompanied by them and 
 the English prisoner. The sight of one so young 
 and fair, a stranger and a captive, seemed to 
 create a strong excitement among the various 
 inmates of the apartment, and a murmur of ad 
 miration and pity followed the group as they 
 now slowly mounted the staircase. 
 
 But the noise and confusion below seemed 
 gradually to subside, as having at length com 
 pleted the ascent, they now traversed several spa 
 cious apartments. Weary of conjecture, faint 
 and sick with fatigue, at length she paused ; and 
 the chief murmuring a hasty caution to the 
 guards immediately disappeared. 
 
 Voices within the next room were now distinct 
 ly heard. They spoke indeed in a foreign Ian- 
 
CASTINE 239 
 
 guage, but it was one with which she was in some 
 measure familiar; and her conceptions of its 
 meaning were now quickened by an overpower 
 ing curiosity which the singularity of her situa 
 tion excited. The deep full toned voice which 
 now met her ear, was evidently addressing the 
 savage chief. 
 
 " Welcome, welcome, brave Anarnanta, we 
 have awaited you since morning; but surely a 
 single prisoner is not all your booty." 
 
 "No, brother, the English captives are still in 
 the wilderness. The Sieur Hertt-1 bade me lead 
 them to Quebec ; but the maiden I have brought 
 you is young and tender, and I turned aside with 
 her, that she might not die unredeemed in the 
 forest." 
 
 "And did not the Sieur pay the ransom of your 
 prisoners?" exclaimed another and sharper tone. 
 
 " For all but her," rejoined the chief. 
 
 " The Saco warriors were treacherous, and 
 sought to carry her away in secret to grace their 
 triumph. But the brave Alaska came to me last 
 night, and warned me of their treachery, and to 
 day I overtook them in the forest." 
 
 "It is well, Anamanta," replied the first voice. 
 
 " Leave the prisoner here, and I will give you 
 the gold for her ransom." A long drawn sigh in 
 terrupted the silence which succeeded. 
 
 "There was a time," exclaimed the Indian sor 
 rowfully, as the clinking of the precious metal was 
 heard within " there was a time, when the 
 chiefs of my nation would have scorned such an 
 offering. They went forth gloriously to the fight, 
 and came back loaded only with the scalps of 
 their enemies." 
 
 " And that time shall surely come again," re- 
 
240 CASTINE. 
 
 joined the full melodious voice which had first 
 spoken. " Grieve not, noble Anamant, that time 
 shall surely come again. But not until the glo 
 rious race of the Mohicans stand once" more on 
 the green soil of their fathers, not until those un 
 holy heretics have been torn up, root and branch, 
 from the land which they have polluted, and the 
 forests of your tribe wave high and free again on 
 its blood-nourished valleys. So long as a single 
 vestige of this unholy people stains your ancient 
 inheritance, ask not for the help of God, nor 
 of the blessed virgin, nor of the pure church 
 they have defiled." 
 
 A new and fearful thought darted across the 
 mind of the captive as those words of denuncia 
 tion met her ear. Impious and inexpressibly 
 dreadful as they had seemed, there was indeed 
 one to whose character as it had long been re 
 vealed to the colonists, they seemed but too appro 
 priate. The voice within so rich in its tones, so 
 musical in its cadence, was surely none other 
 than that of the Baron de Castine. 
 
 The conversation still continued ; but Lucy 
 Everett heard no more. Every other feeling was 
 at once forgotten in the terror of this discovery. 
 She looked tremblingly around the apartment. 
 The mystery was then explained. It was the 
 palace Castine, that strong hold of superstition 
 and cruelty whose very name had once chilled 
 her heart ; and she was here, a lone and unpro 
 tected prisoner, within the very walls where all 
 those fearful plans of ruin for her people had 
 been maturing, the very scene where the treach 
 erous peace had been plotted, the ambuscade, 
 the war-cry, the cold blooded murder. 
 
 But these reflections were now interrupted. 
 
CAST1NE. 241 
 
 The chief again entered the apartment, and Lu 
 cy Everett found herself summoned to the pres 
 ence of the object of her terror. Perhaps it was 
 the consciousness that she had nothing to hope 
 from his mercy, that now banished the lingerings 
 of timidity, imparting to the face and graceful 
 carriage of the maiden, that expression of calm 
 fearlessness, with which she slowly entered the 
 apartment of the Baron Castine. It was not until 
 she had reached its center, that summoning all her 
 resolution for the effort she slowly raised her eye. 
 The first object which arrested it was a lofty 
 and dignified form reclining against the table be 
 fore her. His dress was plain and simply ele 
 gant, his features were decidedly handsome, nay 
 there was an expression irresistibly attractive, in 
 the large, mild, bright eye that seemed calmly 
 reading her features. But the unsatisfied glance 
 of Lucy still wandered on in search of that one 
 dreaded object which filled her thoughts; and 
 she immediately discovered at the remote end of 
 the table, a person who seemed to answer to the 
 fearful picture, and indeed his whole appearance 
 formed a striking contrast to that of his compan 
 ion; but her glance sunk quietly down, beneath 
 the searching cunning of his sunken eye. 
 
 " And a fair companion for such an one as 
 thee," said the same musical voice which a few 
 minutes since had uttered those fearful threaten- 
 ings. Lucy started with surprise, for that voice 
 fell from the lips of the mild and pleasant look 
 ing stranger, who had first attracted her eye. 
 
 " Father Ralle," he added, turning with a smile 
 to his companion, " thou shalt shrive the gen 
 tle maiden, and having absolved her from the 
 guilt of her past heresy, we will seek to initiate 
 21 
 
242 CASTINE, 
 
 her in the doctrines of the true church. She is 
 too beautiful to waste her loveliness among the 
 puritans. 
 
 " Holy Virgin," exclaimed the other in a tone 
 of affected horror, "how is it possible, that one 
 who hath wandered even from her infancy in the 
 wild regions of heresy and sin, should thus be 
 brought into the fold of the blessed shepherd. 
 Noble Baron, I doubt not but that puritan girl is 
 a thousand times more ignorant of the true re 
 ligion, than the wildest savage of these forests." 
 
 "That were a shame indeed," exclaimed the 
 maiden suddenly and involuntarily, the proud 
 current of her English blood mounting high in 
 her young cheek, " it were a sin and a shame for 
 the daughter of one of its holiest ministers." 
 
 An involuntary start announced the astonish 
 ment of her auditors. They had evidently sup 
 posed their conversation unintelligible to the 
 subject of it. 
 
 " By the rood, Father Ralle," exclaimed the Ba 
 ron, turning with a smile to the surprised and in 
 censed priest, " the fair heretic is not so igno 
 rant as you would imagine. Nevertheless you 
 must be her father confessor, if it were only to 
 absolve her from the pride and sin of that single 
 sentence." 
 
 But the high flush of indignant spirit which for 
 a moment had given energy to her exhausted 
 frame, was now again vanished. There was yet 
 however another effort to be made, suppressing 
 for a moment the sensations of deadly weariness 
 that oppressed her, she drew nearer to the table 
 on which they leaned. 
 
 " Noble Baron, I pray your pit}," she exclaim 
 ed in a low and faultering voice, " I am my fa- 
 
CASTINE. 243 
 
 ther s only child he would purchase my ransom 
 joyfully." 
 
 "Father Ralle, you will summon the guard," 
 exclaimed ihe Baron shuttling the papers before 
 him with an air of seeming indifference. "It is 
 time that these arrangements were, completed. 
 The prisoner may retire to her apartment. Let 
 it be in the south wing and you may bid An- 
 tionette attend her, until she hears my further 
 pleasure." 
 
 "Will gold redeem me ?" continued the cap 
 tive, heedless of his orders, and unfastening from 
 her neck, as she spoke, a richly set miniature. 
 
 "Ah! beautiful Lucy Me Gregor," she con 
 tinued, gazing for a moment earnestly upon it, 
 " my mother will grieve bitterly to part with thee, 
 but surely, thou art not more precious to her than 
 her own living Lucy. Baron Casline, will thys re 
 deem me ?" 
 
 The gentlemen seemed alike startled by the 
 earnestness of her manner and a heavy frown for 
 a moment knit the smooth brows of the Baron, as 
 she laid the jewelled miniature on the table be 
 fore him. 
 
 " A beautiful picture I" exclaimed the priest in 
 a tone of seeming carelessness. " The diamonds 
 are of the first water my Lord," he continued ap 
 proaching for a nearer survey, but the Baron had 
 now drawn it towards him, and shading his face 
 with his hands was evidently surveying it witli 
 much earnestness. 
 
 " Know you aught of the original?" continued 
 the priest gazing curiously upon the prisoner. 
 " Methinks she was no heretic." 
 
 " She was she was," replied Lucy, with bitter 
 ness. " When the bigots of the Romish church 
 
244 CAST1NE. 
 
 wiled her away from the true religion and tore 
 her from her friends and home, then indeed she 
 became a heretic. My Lord," she continued 
 turning to the nobleman who still gazed upon the 
 miniature, " she was rny father s cousin, and this 
 is the last memorial which is left him of one who 
 was dearer to him than life. And now that too 
 is gone it is yours. The gold is pure, and the 
 jewels are true and costly only take not away 
 his only child. I pray you break not altogether 
 my poor father s heart." 
 
 The Baron de Castine raised his eye, a new ex 
 pression seemed to have gathered on his pale 
 and haughty features, and Lucy Everett read at 
 once in that stern, cold, and angry glance, that 
 her prayer was rejected. He* nature could en 
 dure no more. The objects of the apartment 
 seemed swimming in sudden darkness before her, 
 there was a sensation like death, a dim percep 
 tion of strange and stern faces bent around her, 
 and all was vanished. The wild visions of deli 
 rium now succeeded that long train of bewilder 
 ing realities; but these were comparatively hap 
 py, for now came the soft and beautiful illusions 
 of home, a father s arm protected her amid every 
 danger, and even in the moments of her wildest 
 suffering, the sweet melody of her mother s voice 
 lulled and soothed her spirit. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE illusions of a disordered fancy at length 
 floated quietly away. Lucy Everett awoke from 
 a long and refreshing slumber to recollection and 
 reason. 
 
 She was lying on a couch of elegant work 
 manship beneath a light and fanciful covering. 
 The room though small, was lofty and tastefully 
 arranged. A few fragrant and fresh gathered 
 flowers lay scattered on the fair covering; and 
 a vase co..i lining a still more beautiful variety, 
 stood on the low toilette beside her. 
 
 It was a bright still summer afternoon, and the 
 lofty window open before her, commanded a 
 prospect of extreme and varied beauty. A soft 
 haze hung over the quiet landscape below the 
 broad bay, and clustering islands, and the woody 
 outline of its far oft* shores leaning against the 
 cloudless azure. A faint breeze was ju&t creep 
 ing along the sleepy wave, sligHly stirring the 
 folds of the muslin curtain, ah ! freshening the 
 pale brow and -cheek of the invalid. 
 
 Ah, Holy Mary, thou hast heard my orison x ," 
 exclaimed a low whispering tone; and the next 
 moment a tall young female was bending over 
 her couch, her dark features glowing with pleas 
 ure, and her lip yet trembling with the aspirations 
 
246* CASTINE. 
 
 of devotion. " Holy Mary, mother of Jesus, thou 
 hast heard thy suppliant. The English maiden 
 shall not die among strangers." 
 
 There was much that, to Lucy at least, seemed 
 singular in the person and manner of the young 
 devotee. Notwithstanding the unusual richness 
 of her whole dress, and the air of hauteur which 
 seemed to proclaim the lady of rank, too deep a 
 shade was mingled over her fine and well form 
 ed features for a daughter of the European race, 
 while the soft glow that suffused her countenance 
 seemed too clear and vivid for the cheek of an 
 Indian maiden. She wore on her bosom a small 
 diamond cross, a golden rosary adorned her neck, 
 and her long dark hair was wound in braided 
 tresses around her head. But the invalid felt 
 that it was the face of a stranger ; and pained 
 and wearied, she turned away murmuring in 
 grieved tones the name of her parents, until a 
 sudden and violent flood of weeping relieved her 
 anguish. The stranger, meanwhile, still bent over 
 her, unconscious of the meaning of those impas 
 sioned words, and uttering in her foreign language, 
 every expression of condolence, which sympathy 
 or affection could suggest. 
 
 "If you do indeed pity me," exclaimed Lucy, 
 at length adopting the language of her compan 
 ion, " let me go home and die in my mother s 
 arms." 
 
 " Ah, no, heaven forbid," replied the young 
 lady with a smile. "You will not die now. 
 Your hand is as soft and as cold as my own, and 
 the deep flush is all faded out. No, English 
 maiden, I have not thus vainly told my beads. 
 The Holy Saints and the Blessed Virgin, will not 
 
CASTINE. 247 
 
 reject the orisons that, with fasting and incense, 
 I have offered them." 
 
 "Oh, talk no more to me of the Virgin Mary, 
 nor of the Saints," interrupted the invalid. "Dear 
 lady, if you do indeed love me, pray no more for 
 me in those unworthy names. Oh, it is a bit 
 ter thing to die," she added, in murmuring 
 tones, "but to die among the despisers of the 
 true faith, far away from all who love me, and 
 in the dwelling of this proud and wicked Ba 
 ron " 
 
 Three successive times the lady had crossed 
 herself during this burst of feeling, and at the 
 conclusion of it, her keen dark eye flashed with a 
 sudden expression of wounded pride. 
 
 "The Baron de Castine is my father," she ex 
 claimed, drawing herself proudly up from the 
 couch, "and though you are a prisoner of war, 
 and the daughter of his enemy, he hath kindly 
 and honorably treated you, as though you were 
 of his own nation. It was he that bade me watch 
 by your couch, and soothe you in your sickness, 
 and do all for you that I would have done for 
 the sister of my love, and now " The re 
 mainder of the sentence was only told in the 
 proud glance, with which she turned away from 
 her, and walked slowly to the window. There 
 was now a short silence, interrupted only by fre 
 quent and heavy sighs from the couch of the in 
 valid. The eye of the stranger occasionally re 
 turned, and with every glance at that pale and 
 lovely countenance, her resentment seemed gra 
 dually to grow less powerful, until at length en 
 tirely forgetting it, amid the glow of generoui 
 emotions, she again approached her couch. 
 "English maiden, I know that you have suffered 
 
248 CASTINE. 
 
 long and much, and I forgive your unkindness. 
 Say no more," she whispered, as an expression of 
 gratitude trembled on the lip of her young charge, 
 " I know how hard it is to be parted from those 
 we love and a mother too my own is far away 
 in heaven, and though the daughter of the wild 
 Mohican race, I mourned for her none the less 
 bitterly." 
 
 "Ah, my sweet young nurse, my dear Lady 
 Antoinette," exclaimed a shrill quick voice, 
 at the door, " how fares your invalid, this af 
 ternoon." 
 
 " Better, a thousand times better," was the 
 reply. " Come in, Madame La Framboise, 
 and sec if she be not changed, since yester 
 day." 
 
 A small and delicate female now opened the 
 door, and gently approached the couch. "Ah, 
 yes, my dear young lady," she exclaimed, after 
 examining, for a few moments, the pulse of the 
 patient, which though yet languid, was now 
 calm and regular. " The maiden needs only 
 your kind and gentle nursing, and she is well. 
 And now," she added in a livelier tone, "I may 
 do you my message from Lieutenant Beaumont ; 
 he says, if you do not join the dance this even- 
 ing " 
 
 " Hush, hush, Madame La Framboise," ex 
 claimed the other, interrupting her, " how can 
 you thus disturb my patient?" and leading her 
 to the door, she added in a whisper, "If the 
 prisoner continues better, I will join you again 
 at vespers." 
 
 A profound stillness now reigned in the apart 
 ment, or if any sounds came upon the breeze 
 from below, they were softened and blended in 
 
CASTING. 249 
 
 the distance, like some faint cradle air, and long 
 ere the vesper bell had chimed through the pal 
 ace, the English captive had sunk into a gentle 
 slumber. 
 
 Madame La Framboise had not vainly calculated 
 upon the effect of the unwearied attentions of the 
 Lady Antoinette, and in a few days more, her unfor 
 tunate charge was so far recovered as to walk from 
 her couch to the window, while the faint pink of 
 returning health, hourly deepened on her coun 
 tenance. The subjects of reflection, however, 
 which now constantly engaged her attention, 
 were such as might naturally be supposed to re 
 tard her recovery. The extreme hopelessness of 
 her situation, for a long and bloody war was 
 just opening upon the colonists, her anxiety for 
 the fate of her parents, and the idea of wasting, 
 within her prison walls, the bloom of that exist 
 ence which she would joyfully have devoted to 
 their happiness, all contributed to lower that pitch 
 of elastic feeling, with which we are wont to 
 arise from the couch of languishing. She was 
 not indeed insensible to the many alleviations of 
 her fate. The kind Antoinette had frequently 
 assured her of the utmost exertions of her influ 
 ence ; but the idea of escape from that well 
 guarded fortress, was too hopeless even for the 
 longing fancy of the captive, and might this be 
 effected, the impossibility of finding her way 
 through the forest, effectually checked every 
 project which friendship or hope could sug 
 gest. 
 
 It was in one of these dispirited frames, that 
 the captive one evening sat by her window, 
 watching the last lingerings of day upon the dis 
 tant hills, and warbling a few catches of her fa- 
 
250 CASTINE. 
 
 ther s favorite air, while her thoughts wandered 
 far away, over the expanse of wave and forest, 
 to the lovely and beloved home of her childhood. 
 The noise in the court beneath had meanwhile 
 gradually diminished ; and on casting her eye 
 downward, she perceived that the group of In 
 dians and soldiers, who a short time before had 
 crowded the pavement, was now gradually dimin 
 ishing, until only a single Indian remained in 
 sight. He was apparently engaged in mending a 
 broken bow ; but Lucy noticed that as he persever 
 ed in his employment, his eyes were occasionally 
 directed, as if by stealth, to the windows of her 
 apartment. 
 
 There was nothing in his appearance or em 
 ployment, at all peculiar, save that he hummed 
 as he worked, occasional snatches of that well 
 remembered song, which Alaska had formerly 
 used as the vehicle of his communications to her 
 in the forest ; and at times too, she fancied that 
 the voice itself seemed familiar. But the object 
 of her curiosity soon arose from the pavement ; 
 and after gazing cautiously about him, he turned 
 suddenly and directed his aim against the palace 
 walls. Lucy now watched his seemingly unim 
 portant manoeuvres with intense interest, for the 
 light was still sufficient to reveal the form and 
 features of the noble hearted Alaska. 
 
 Several times he had shot carelessly against 
 the wall, as if to test the mended string ; but 
 Lucy had noticed that each successive time the 
 aim was higher, and she was seeking to ascertain 
 whether this circumstance was irvle* d accidental, 
 when she perceived with surprise that he had 
 again fixed his aim, and was evidently about to 
 let fly his arrow, precisely at the spot where she 
 
CASTINE. 251 
 
 now stood. In a moment she had retreated from 
 the window, and the next, the arrow whizzed past 
 her. 
 
 It was several moments ere she had sufficiently 
 recovered from her surprise to venture from her 
 retreat, and she then timidly approached to ex 
 amine the arrow. A dark coil was wound around 
 one of its extremities. It yielded to her touch, 
 and the next moment a bracelet dropped to the 
 floor. It was her own, and braided of one of 
 those auburn locks that had waved on her mo 
 ther s head in the day of her youth and beauty ; 
 and, with a sudden cry of joy, the captive at 
 once realized that she beheld a token from her 
 distant home. She leaned again from the win 
 dow. 
 
 "They who send you this token, maiden," said 
 Alaska, in low and distinct tones, glancing cau 
 tiously around him, " bade me bring you this mes 
 sage also. When one sun more has set, a guide 
 will wait for you on yonder shore. English mai 
 den, there is one within who can help you. The 
 daughter of the white chief is good and gentle, 
 she hath the heart of a Mohican, and she is 
 mighty. All night the guides will wait for 
 you, at the white rock beyond the hut of Was- 
 saic." 
 
 At that moment, the deep toned bell announ 
 ced that the hour of vespers was past ; and 
 Alaska speedily retreated to a distant part of 
 the court. While yet trembling with the amaze 
 ment which this communication had excited, a 
 rapid step was heard along the corridor, and An 
 toinette presented herself at the door. That she 
 was the person to whom Alaska alluded, Lucy 
 
252 CASTINE. 
 
 could not for a moment doubt ; and the singular 
 and uniform kindness with which she had from 
 the first regarded her, together with the repeated 
 assurance of her sympathy and assistance, all 
 designated her as a proper object for confi 
 dence. 
 
 The Lady Antoinette listened in silence to the 
 brief detail. She trod swiftly up and down the 
 apartment, and there seemed a conflict of over 
 whelming feelings. 
 
 " Forgive me, Lady Antoinette," exclaimed 
 Lucy, at length interrupting the painful silence, 
 " if I have presumed too much on your friend 
 ship. I had thought but I was wrong. Do not 
 agitate yourself, Lady Antoinette, you are freed 
 from any engagements you may in your careless 
 moments have made me." 
 
 " Speak lower, Mademoiselle," replied her 
 companion, pointing to the door of the apart 
 ment, " the guards were at this end of the corri 
 dor as I passed, and if they overhear us we are 
 ruined. I know, my dear girl, that suspicions 
 are awakened ; for when I kneeled at my confes 
 sions this morning, the holy Father bade me re 
 member a sin of far more deadly hue than aught 
 that I had owned, and warned me of the guilt of 
 loving those whom the church regards only with 
 holy horror. But, Lucy, I do indeed love you," 
 she added, pausing before her, and her dark eyes 
 filling with tears. " Stranger and heretic though 
 you are, I love you, may the Blessed Virgin for 
 give me; and for myself, I would joyfully incur 
 all the anger and reproach, if so I could effect 
 your escape. But, Lucy, I cannot do this alone. 
 I must exert my influence over those that love 
 
CASTINE. 253 
 
 me, to do that which would dishonor their noble 
 names, secretly and treacherously to release the 
 prisoners whom the blood of their soldiers hath 
 purchased. Ah, that any should do this for the 
 love of Antoinette de Castine ! I could do all but 
 this for you, Lucy Everett." 
 
 " I believe it, dear lady. I believe that you 
 would do all for me, that is kind and honorable ; 
 and I desire no more. Forgive me, if the idea of 
 liberty and happiness, hath made me selfish. Dear 
 Antoinette, I have had fearful thoughts to-day, I 
 know that the priests of your religion have ever 
 deemed the blood of such an one as I, a grateful 
 offering to heaven. Antoinette, I am a daughter 
 of the Puritans, and who knows what dark trials 
 are now in store for me. No look not incredu 
 lous. I have read too well the history of your 
 church and mine. Far better had it been for me 
 to have died in the forest." 
 
 " Lucy Everett," replied Antoinette, after some 
 minutes of thoughtful silence, " we must make 
 Madame La Framboise our confidant. Aye, do 
 not fear her ; she is a Catholic indeed, but so are 
 we all, and she is full of invention and skill, and 
 knows well how" to conduct such stratagems as 
 we shall have need of. I know too that she pities 
 your misfortunes." 
 
 Antoinette now drew towards the door. 
 "Do not be surprised," she added, in a whis 
 per, " if I see you no more to-night. If sus 
 picions are once excited, my efforts are all in 
 vain. But I promise you, by the Mass, and 
 by this image of our Blessed Mary, that I will 
 not fail to exert my whole soul, for your de 
 liverance." 
 
 22 
 
254 CASTINE. 
 
 Lucy Everett could not for a moment doubt 
 the sincerity of this earnest appeal ; but her 
 heart died within her, as the sound of retreating 
 steps grew faint in the distance, and she found 
 herself once more alone, in the solitude of her 
 prison. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 IT was a sleepless night for more than one in 
 the palace of Castine; and ere the pale beam of 
 morning had looked through her curtains, Lucy 
 had arisen from her weary couch, to await with 
 renewed fearfulness the crisis of her doom. It 
 was not until the hour of noon, that Antoinette 
 again presented herself. Her finger was on her 
 lip as she entered ; and for some minutes only a 
 few trivial remarks were uttered, evidently in 
 tended for the ears of those without. 
 
 "I have confided our secret to Madame La 
 Framboise," she at last whispered, drawing her 
 to a remote corner of the room, " and she hath 
 promised her aid to the uttermost." 
 
 "And is there any hope, dear Antoinette?" 
 exclaimed Lucy, breathing quick and gasp 
 ingly. 
 
 "Becalm be calm, my friend," whispered 
 the other. " It is to your own composure and 
 presence of mind, that you must now trust for 
 deliverance. My brother hath this morning un 
 expectedly returned from Quebec. Fear him 
 not, Lucy. I know he hath the name of a proud 
 and haughty youth. He hath been much in the 
 high palaces of the earth until his mien hath in 
 deed caught something of their loftiness, but 
 
256 CASTINE. 
 
 few have kinder hearts, than Louis de Cas- 
 tine." 
 
 " And is it him that you would persuade to 
 assist us?" 
 
 " No, Lucy. For the world, I would not have 
 it said that he connived at tiiis project. The 
 shame the disgrace, must all be mine. But no 
 to relieve a sister in distress, be she catholic 
 or heretic, friend or enemy, will never degrade 
 the high purity of a woman s honor ; and even if 
 it would, for you I could bear it joyfully. But, 
 Lucy, hear me. The Wassaic is of my mother s 
 kindred, and Louis and I love well a moonlight 
 sail along those waters. They are counted safe 
 at present, and when the dews begin to fall, I will 
 ask him to row me to the dwelling of the Wassaic, 
 the chief of my mother s tribe." 
 
 " And how is it possible, dear Antoinette, even 
 could I escape from these guards, to accompany 
 you unseen by him ?" 
 
 " You cannot, Lucy," replied the other, in a still 
 lower tone, " you cannot accompany me, you must 
 go in my stead." 
 
 Lucy felt at once that the project was not 
 hopeless. The French maiden was tall and 
 slender like herself; and though her complexion 
 and whole countenance, presented a striking 
 contrast to her own, now pale and delicate, 
 from recent illness, the plan was yet worth 
 attempting. A careful disguise would do much 
 towards concealing it; and the darkness of even 
 ing, more. 
 
 " And if the discovery should take place too 
 soon," exclaimed Lucy, as these thoughts passed 
 hastily through her mind. 
 
 " Tell him the whole, dear Lucy. He has a 
 
CASTINE. 257 
 
 kind and generous heart ; and I know that, for 
 my sake, he will not betray you. And as for the 
 idea of his assisting your escape, if he alarms the 
 palace on his return with the news of it, it will 
 be enough. Dear Lucy, do not tremble thus. 
 Keep your soul calm and quiet for this emergen 
 cy. No, I cannot stay," she added, as the cap 
 tive would fain have detained her longer. " Mad 
 ame La Framboise is at this moment waiting for 
 me. Fear nothing, Lucy, only be cool and col 
 lected." 
 
 Notwithstanding this latter injunction, the re 
 mainder of the afternoon was passed by the captive 
 in a state of excitement, bordering on distraction. 
 One moment, home with its thousand soothing 
 endearments, friends, and kindred, all seemed her 
 own ; the agony of fear was over and she lay 
 a free and happy being weeping on her mother s 
 bosom. The next, an imprisonment far more 
 gloomy and hopeless, arose to her fancy ; she 
 remembered the ferocity of the Roman priest 
 hood, and cruelties untried and unknown, nay, 
 death itself, seemed the fearful alternative. 
 
 Overcome with these agitating reflections, she 
 had hardly noticed the flight of time, until the 
 broad disk of the sun just lingered above the for 
 est, throwing a last flood of radiance over the 
 objects of her apartment. The captive now 
 ceased her wearied step; and with flushed cheek 
 and throbbing heart she threw herself on her 
 couch, seeking with a strong effort to recover 
 something of that calmness which she knew her 
 exigencies so much required. Several minute* 
 more elapsed, ere any sound broke the stillness. 
 Gay voices were then heard in conversation with 
 out; the lock turned, and the next moment 
 22* 
 
258 CASTINE. 
 
 Madame La Framboise and the Lady Antoinette 
 stood within. 
 
 " Hasten, Mademoiselle," exclaimed Madame 
 La Framboise, as with rapid movements she now 
 unfastened the veil. " Fifteen minutes more, 
 and the vesper bell will toll ; we must lose no 
 moments." 
 
 The exchange of dresses was quickly made ; 
 but it was in vain that Antoinette strove to as 
 sume an appearance of composure. Her hand 
 trembled violently, as she clasped the rosary 
 about the neck of her friend ; and her efforts at 
 firmness only rendered her tones more faultering, 
 as she repeatedly murmured that there was no 
 cause for fear. Madame La Framboise alone 
 seemed calm and collected. With surprising 
 composure she arranged and re-arranged the 
 beautiful apparel, until each slight dissimilarity 
 of figure had vanished, and the metamorphosis 
 seemed complete. 
 
 " And now fear nothing, Lucy Everett," ex 
 claimed Antionette, " the boat is ready and Louis 
 hath promised to go the moment that Vespers are 
 over. You must attend the Mass nay, I would 
 have saved you the trial if I could, but you 
 will not be detected. A few moments since 
 I left the drawing room in that very dress ; 
 and if you are silent no one will suspect the 
 change. Draw the veil closely around. your face 
 in the chapel; Louis de Castine will meet you at 
 the door, for the rest, trust Heaven." 
 
 The arrangements were now completed, but 
 Lucy Everett still lingered. Amid the confusion, 
 the hurry and agony of suspense, the idea of a 
 separation from her generous benefactress, had 
 scarcely occupied a moment s attention, and until 
 
CASTIXE. 259 
 
 now she had never perceived how strong wore 
 the feelings which that unwearied kindness had 
 kindled. The ties of human love are various as 
 the tints of autumn leaves ; but there are none 
 more tender and beautiful, than those which 
 spring up between the lonely and the sorrowing, 
 and those who have lightened their sorrows or 
 gladdened their loneliness. The catholic and 
 puritan wept like sisters in the parting embrace. 
 
 " Hasten, hasten," interrupted Madam la Fram 
 boise, " the minutes are precious and hark 
 there is the vesper bell." 
 
 " Fare thee well, sweet English maiden," said 
 Antionette, at length withdrawing her embrace. 
 " We shall see each others faces no more here, 
 but by the cross and rosary on your neck, remem 
 ber the catholic girl that loved you." 
 
 "Come, come, Lady Antoinette," said Madame 
 La Framboise, drawing Lucy s arm in hers as she 
 threw open the door. " If you linger longer here, 
 the mass will be over ere we reach the chapel," 
 and so saying she sallied forth into the corridor, 
 with her trembling companion. The bell still 
 tolled as they hurried on. 
 
 "Ah me, Lady Antoinette," exclaimed Madam 
 La Framboise as they drew near the soldiers who 
 guarded the entrance of the hall, " how I pitj 
 these solitary prisoners. I am sure if I were yon 
 der English captive, I should have died long ago 
 of very loneliness." 
 
 Lucy clasped her arm convulsively in hers, for 
 at that moment they were passing the door. 
 The soldiers bowed reverently, and they moved 
 on unquestioned and unsuspected. They still 
 pressed on through several lofty and dimly lighted 
 apartments. 
 
260 CASTINE. 
 
 " We are almost at the chapel," said her com 
 panion in a whisper, as they descended a narrow 
 staircase. "The saints be praised we have en 
 countered no one as yet, and the danger is almost 
 over. Imitate me, my dear young lady, when we 
 enter and fear nothing. The Holy Virgin will 
 protect you." 
 
 Lucy had now need of some higher encourage 
 ment than aught which the benediction of the 
 catholic could impart, for at that moment the 
 bell ceased, the door opened, and amid a stream 
 of pure and beautiful light they moved slowly 
 through the aisles of the chapel. Oh the tumult 
 and agony of that moment ! To the agitated heart 
 of the prisoner, every eye in this throng of wor 
 shippers, seemed at once to have detected be 
 neath her light disguise, the form and features 
 of the English Heretic. But this was soon past. 
 In a moment after, she was bowing beside her 
 companion, silent and unnoticed. 
 
 A quick succession of overpowering ideas 
 crowded to the mind of the young puritan, as 
 those rites and ceremonies which from her ear 
 liest recollection she had regarded only with un- 
 mingled horror, now burst upon her in all their 
 imposing splendor. She raised her eye, loosen 
 ing for a moment the crowded folds that veiled her 
 features. The lights, the pictures, the wreathing 
 music, the low, rich mournful melody from the 
 chanting choir, all came over her bewildered fan 
 cy like the dim shadows of that land where the 
 faint perceptions of faith vanish amid the light 
 of glorious realities. 
 
 Surprised and indignant at this powerful effect 
 on her feelings, she now strove altogether to di 
 vert her attention, and in wandering over the 
 
CAST1NK 2C1 
 
 chapel, her eye became fixed on a figure near the 
 door, standing alone and erect amid the kneeling 
 throng. The rich military habit denoted an ele 
 vated rank, and a look of calm and conscious su 
 periority lingered on every feature. There were 
 traces of deep thought and feeling on his counte 
 nance, almost contradicting the extreme youth 
 otherwise indicated. His eye wandered careless 
 ly over the kneeling assembly, and now and ihen 
 a shade of contempt deepened the cold smile 
 with which he surveyed them. Lucy gazed for a 
 moment in suspense, but it was only for a mo 
 ment ; and with a thrill of delight and astonish 
 ment she now recognized the lonely and disguised 
 stranger who had once so deeply claimed her 
 sympathy. 
 
 "Are you mad young maiden? said a low 
 whisper beside her, at once recalling the recol 
 lection of her fearful situation. "Have the cath 
 olics no eyes? For heaven s sake draw your veil, 
 or we are ruined." Madam La Framboise might 
 well utter these astonished and terrified excla 
 mations; for in the joy of that unexpected re 
 cognition, her young companion had for a mo 
 ment forgotten the perilous circumstances that 
 surrounded her. Quickly and tremblingly the 
 injunction was obeyed ; the worshippers were 
 rising, and in the ceremonies which now ensued 
 every nerve was indeed in fearful requisition. 
 At length the last benediction was said, the as 
 sembly began quickly to disperse; and Lucy 
 Everett, leaning on the arm of her companion, 
 moved slowly through the crowded aisle. 
 
 Notwithstanding the drapery which now so 
 thickly veiled her features, Lucy could still dimly 
 perceive the form of the young officer standing 
 
262 CASTINE. 
 
 unmoved, near the entrance. They were ap 
 proaching the spot where he stood, and a single 
 word or look might make him aware of her 
 presence. But at that moment, a quick pres 
 sure of her arm again warned her of the perils 
 around her. 
 
 " Look, Antoinette," said her companion in her 
 usual careless tone, " see here is your brother 
 waiting to accompany you." 
 
 " Where, where," whispered Lucy, returning 
 the grasp convulsively, and in vain seeking to 
 discover among the crowd the person to whom 
 she alluded. 
 
 " Hush, dear child, there is no danger," whis 
 pered the other, and then aloud, " we will wait 
 here for him, Antoinette. It cannot be long ere 
 he joins us." 
 
 But at that moment another glimpse at the 
 mysterious stranger, again absorbed her whole at 
 tention. His eye was earnestly fixed upon her. 
 Had he then detected her earnest glances? Her 
 heart throbbed convulsively, for he was now ad 
 vancing to meet them. 
 
 " Come Antoinette, are you ready ?" said the 
 stranger in that well remembered voice, which 
 
 had last rung on her ear amid the forest of H . 
 
 " The boat is waiting for us. Are you ready for 
 the excursion ?" 
 
 "Ready aye that she is," answered Madame 
 La Framboise, disregarding the sudden emotion 
 evinced by her companion. " You had better 
 take your brother s arm, Antoinette," she contin 
 ued with a slight and meaning pressure, and at 
 the same time disengaging herself from her cling 
 ing grasp. " You will hardly return before mid 
 night, and so I bid you good evening," continued 
 
CASTINE. 203 
 
 the lady as they moved into the hall. " A pleas 
 ant row," and smiling and bowing she disap 
 peared. 
 
 Surprised, bewildered, and embarrassed beyond 
 measure, with her arm in that of her companion, 
 Lucy now moved rapidly through the palace. 
 He the brother of Antoinette de Castine and 
 she could scarce restrain the expressions of her 
 doubt and amazement, as with rapid and almost 
 unconscious steps she now trod the pavement 
 without. To reveal herself at once, and claim 
 his protection, was her first hasty resolution ; but 
 the next moment the conversation of her bene 
 factress returned to her recollection. It was 
 Louis de Castine as well as the stranger whose 
 life her own exertions had once redeemed ; and 
 though the idea of personal danger had now van 
 ished, every other reason for maintaining her dis 
 guise as long as practicable, was still as urgent 
 as before. At length they stood on the shore, 
 just above the point where Lucy and her sav 
 age companions had first landed. It was a clear 
 and beautiful night, the dewy breeze blew cool 
 and gently over her, as she landed in the shadow 
 of the rock while her companion slowly loosened 
 the boat from its moorings. The sweet waters of 
 the Penobscot lay before them, smooth and beau 
 tiful, now and then softly leaving the pebbled 
 shore ; and the sounds of life came in low and 
 mingled murmurs from the height above. 
 
 The soul of the young maiden grew calm amid 
 these soothing influences. And now as the light 
 oars rose and fell, slowly and gracefully, the boat 
 moved forth from the shadows of the shore, scarce 
 ly leaving a trace of her light path amid the li 
 quid moonbeams. Lucy, Everett gazed on the 
 
264 CASTING. 
 
 dark rock and its frowning walls, so long her pris 
 on, now slowly receding in the distance, and for 
 the first time amid the agitating events of the 
 evening, the consciousness of her freedom rushed 
 upon her mind. Those fearful barriers were at 
 length past the guarded hall, the court, the bat 
 tlements, all were safely past, she was no longer 
 a captive ; and her whole soul rose, like a freed 
 bird rejoicing. 
 
 " Antoinette," exclaimed her companion, now 
 for the first time interrupting the stillness, "you 
 have grown strangely silent since vespers." 
 
 " Aye." 
 
 " Aye, indeed, but it is not your usual fault, and 
 I acknowledge it requires some vanity to inter 
 rupt this beautiful stillness. 1 can forgive you, 
 Antoinette, and the more especially as I am de 
 termined for this evening to engross a due share 
 of the conversation myself." 
 
 " Indeed," replied his companion, hardly da 
 ring to exceed the monosyllable. 
 
 " Yes, a new resolution you think. But a 
 truce to your railing now, Antoinette. It will do 
 well enough for yonder gay drawing room, but 
 even my sad words and feelings better become 
 an hour like this. Indeed, Antoinette," he added 
 in a different tone, " I have more causes for sad 
 ness than you dream of." 
 
 Lucy felt painfully that her part was now in 
 deed but ill performed. She well knew what 
 rich tones of kindness such an annunciation 
 would have drawn from the affectionate Antoi 
 nette, but she dared not to trust her voice and 
 she was silent. 
 
 "To commence then, with my important com 
 munication," continued the youth, " I am about 
 
CASTINE. 265 
 
 to leave you, Antoinette. In five days I sail for 
 France." He paused and seemed waiting for 
 her comments, but only a sudden start announced 
 the emotion of his audi tress. " You are doubt 
 less surprised at a resolution like this, at such a 
 crisis. I know that the war which is but just 
 opening upon these colonies, seems to you only a 
 field of glory, where I might reap the laurels for 
 which I have so long panted. But, Antoinette, 
 it is that very crisis which occasions my depart 
 ure. In such a war there is there can be, no 
 honorable part for me." 
 
 " And why ?" exclaimed Lucy, who felt that si 
 lence now would not be overlooked. 
 
 "Do not mistake me, Antoinette. To the war 
 in general, my remark has no application. As a 
 war between France and England, I would yield 
 my last life-drop freely in its battles. But as 
 waged in these distant portions of the kingdom, 
 a mere tool of selfish and fiendish purposes as a 
 war between the catholics and colonists as a 
 war of bloody and unprovoked extermination be 
 tween a few ambitious arid powerful individuals, 
 and a simple, high minded people, I cannot I 
 will n<t engage in it. Antoinette, you are my fa 
 ther s child and have ever been to me a true 
 and noble hearted sister. I will withhold noth 
 ing from you." 
 
 He paused a moment, and the impropriety, the 
 indelicacy of thus intruding upon his confidence, 
 became now so extremely embarrassing to his com 
 panion, that only a constant recurrence to the in 
 structions of her benefactress, prevented her from 
 revealing her character. But surely it would ill 
 become her, to cast a blot upon the name of one 
 whom Antoinette called brother; and determin- 
 
 23 
 
-66 CASTINE. 
 
 ing to preserve her disguise, until the appearance 
 of her promised guides, should relieve her com 
 panion from all wilful share in her escape, she 
 still maintained a painful silence. 
 
 "Antoinette," continued the youth, "among 
 the individuals of whom I speak, you know that 
 the Baron Castine is pre-eminent. He is your 
 father, and mine, and as such I would fain speak 
 of him with reverence ; but as to this unnatural 
 and deadly policy which he is now adopting, I 
 must say of it, and will say it fearlessly my 
 whole soul abhors it. Think for a moment, An 
 toinette, if you can, of that fearful system of means 
 in operation around us. Think of the high and 
 holy influences of religion, so awfully perverted 
 as to arouse, and keep forever alive in the minds 
 of these savages, those deadly passions which are 
 to be satisfied only with the extermination of 
 these puritan colonies. And, Antoinette, you 
 know too the fearful circumstances of their war 
 fare. Think, if you can, without shuddering, of 
 these beautiful settlements laid waste, and hun 
 dreds and hundreds of helpless beings captured 
 or murdered in cold blood, without the shadow of 
 a crime, and all for the aggrandizement of a 
 single ambitious individual. I say, Antoinette, 
 I will never soil my spirit with any agency, how 
 ever remote, in crimes like these. I have made 
 one effort, and it shall be my last. Our estate in 
 France requires my presence ; and there I shall 
 await the termination of this struggle." 
 
 " Antoinette," continued the young officer after 
 a few moment s pause, interpreting the silence 
 of his companion into an expression of displeas 
 ure, " I have spoken warmly, but I would that 
 you at least should know the secret springs of 
 
CASTINE. 267 
 
 my actions, and 1 will say yet more. The church 
 whose authority you reverence, the religion you 
 love, with all its allurements, its splendid and im 
 posing forms of devotion, I have learned to look 
 upon as only a mighty fabric of human pride and 
 error. Nay more, the doctrines of those whom, 
 from your earliest recollection, you have been 
 taught to despise as heretics, are to me the pure 
 and sublime revelations of Heaven. Antoinette, 
 my mother was a protestant." 
 
 " A protestant ?" replied his companion invo 
 luntarily. 
 
 "Aye, I had thought you aware of this circum 
 stance. She died indeed in my early infancy 
 but not until she had stamped her own sweet pic 
 ture on my memory, the image of all things holy 
 and beautiful. My childhood too was past among 
 the cottages of the Waldenses, in the dwelling of 
 my nurse, a simple and pious woman, to whose 
 care my mother s dying lips had consigned my 
 earliest years. It was there, where " the bones of 
 slaughtered saints lay bleaching on the Alpine 
 mountains cold," in those valleys where the blood 
 of the true and holy had in all ages been poured 
 forth like water, that I learned to love those per 
 secuted exiles, and surely it would ill become 
 such an one to stain his hand in their blood. But, 
 Antoinette, I will say no more on this subject," 
 continued the youth, after again pausing in vain 
 for a reply. " It must ever be a painful one, 
 while we differ thus widely ; but I have still ano 
 ther secret to confide to you. Listen patiently. 
 It is a trust, a sacred obligation which I am about 
 to confer upon." 
 
 There was now an evident embarrassment in 
 the tones of the speaker. "Antoinette," heat 
 
268 CASTINE. 
 
 length resumed, "you know.my life lias been past, 
 in foreign climes. I have seen many of the high 
 and the rich and the lovely, unfascinated ; but 
 Antoinette, I have at last found a flower that I 
 could love. A rose has sprung up on my lonely 
 path, wild indeed, and uncultured, but one that 
 I could win and wear forever. My sister, I must 
 leave these shores, but I leave behind me one 
 whose love could make the lone wilderness bright 
 and beautiful as Eden." 
 
 A cold dew gathered on Lucy s brow; she 
 breathed slow, and heavily. 
 
 "During my late secret expedition, " continued 
 her companion, "I met with a beautiful high- 
 minded and gentle creature, all unlearned in the 
 knowledge of a cold and heartless world, but just 
 such an one as the bright ideal around which my 
 affections have ever clustered. She was a puri 
 tan girl, and her name, Lucy Everett." 
 
 A half murmured exclamation burst from the 
 lips of his auditress. 
 
 " Nay, hear me through, my sister, I know your 
 prejudices are all arrayed, but hear me through. 
 To your energy and decision of character, I am 
 about to confide a sacred trust. Lucy Everett 
 is now a prisoner of the Indians, perhaps," and 
 his voice sunk, " perhaps already their victim. 
 The very night I left her native village, it was 
 burned and plundered, and many of its inhabit 
 ants made captive. Among these were Lucy Eve 
 rett and her servant. The latter I found among 
 the prisoners at Quebec, but of the former I can 
 learn nothing, save that she was separated from 
 the rest on the first night of her captivity. An 
 toinette, you have influence with our father, you 
 have powerful friends among these tribes. 
 
CASTfNL . 269 
 
 me entreat you by your sisterly affection, to as 
 certain her fate, and to spare no pains or toils for 
 her deliverance. You hesitate. Now my sister, 
 you have an opportunity of proving the truth of 
 your affection. As the preserver of my life, 
 Lucy Everett claims your kindness. During my 
 
 residence at H , Vandreuil, fully aware of my 
 
 sentiments with regard to some of his proceed 
 ings, dispatched messengers with instructions to 
 murder me in secret, and but for the exertions, 
 of this same Lucy Everett, I might now be 
 sleeping in a distant and unknown grave. Oh 
 had I time to tell you all, you would not wonder 
 that I had loved this puritan stranger. And, An 
 toinette, she was like my mother my beautiful 
 and sainted mother, just such an one as I have 
 heard her described, when she first came to our 
 castle from her lowly and sequestered dwelling. 
 Her character, her religion, her nation were the 
 same, and her name too, my fair mother s name 
 was Lucy Lucy Me Gregor. 
 
 " Lucy McGregor !" repeated his auditress, in 
 amazement, completely thrown off her guard by 
 this unexpected disclosure. "Can it be? Lucy 
 McGregor the Baroness de Castine?" But she 
 suddenly ceased her hurried exclamations ; her 
 companion was now gazing at her with looks of 
 fixed astonishment. 
 
 "Antoinette ! Antoinette !" he exclaimed doubt- 
 ingly. " Prythee speak again you have been 
 sparing of your words this evening ; and sure the 
 light is not so dazzling, that you need sit with 
 that impenetrable veil around you. Antoinette," 
 he exclaimed, with increased surprise, as his com 
 panion still remained silent and immoveable 
 "surely this is no occasion for trifling." 
 
270 CASTINE. 
 
 It was impossible longer to elude discovery. 
 The young maiden slowly drew aside her veil, a 
 shower of moonbeams fell upon her countenance, 
 reveaHng at once to the eye of her astonished 
 companion, the fair, rose-dyed features of Lucy 
 Everett. 
 
 The oar dropped from his hand. There was 
 something almost ludicrous, in the expression of 
 that sudden and bewildered astonishment, with 
 which he now silently surveyed her. 
 Briefly and simply, Lucy Everett told her tale. 
 Meanwhile, they were slowly veering towards the 
 appointed place of rendezvous, and the small white 
 rock was now clearly visible, breaking the green 
 outline of the shore. 
 
 " And do you think then," exclaimed the youth 
 in reply to her last remark, " that I would thus 
 idly throw away my recovered treasure? What 
 proof have you of the good faith of the savage 
 Alaska? And how know we, that the whole may 
 not be some treacherous scheme of these Indians, 
 to recover again their victim ?" 
 
 " But the token, sir. It was my own bracelet. 
 I cannot be mistaken, and look yonder is their 
 signal." At that moment, a red and brilliant 
 stream of light burst from the shore near the 
 foot of the rock. 
 
 Louis de Castine looked earnestly thither. 
 He leaned for a moment silently upon his oar. 
 " Return ! Did I hear yen aright, Lucy Everett? 
 Return to the palace and spread the alarm ! Are 
 these the lessons of gratitude you would teach 
 me. No, dear Lucy," he added again plying the 
 oar, " I leave you no more until I see you safe 
 under your father s protection." 
 
 They had now approached so near the shore, 
 
CASTINR. 271 
 
 that a lo\v murmur of voices reached their ears, 
 and a single figure at that moment became visi 
 ble, standing in the shadow of the rock. 
 
 " It is Alaska," whispered Lucy, as her com 
 panion looked sternly and suspiciously towards 
 him. " Believe me, sir, you wrong him. There 
 is no room tor treachery in his noble heart/ 
 
 " Well then, my sweet sister," murmured the 
 youth suddenly assuming an air of playfulness, 
 which became his handsome features ; " I have 
 one word more for your private ear. Do not 
 forget that I have this evening made you my con 
 fident, that I have laid open to you my whole 
 heart, the very sanctum sanctorum of my affec 
 tions. But you have not as yet, by word or look, 
 intimated your approval. My sweet sister, may I 
 construe this silence in my favor? When I am far 
 away in a foreign clime, toiling wearily for the 
 vain distinctions and honors of this earth, may I 
 not have the assurance, that this consecration of 
 my affections is UL least not regarded with dis 
 pleasure? Oh when my thoughts wander to those 
 distant shores, and that one being for whom alone 
 the laurels of earth are worth reaping, let me feel 
 that my devotion is not regarded as wholly un 
 worthy of its object." 
 
 "My brother/ replied the maiden with a smile 
 brushing away the dew that had gathered on her 
 cheek, "she of whom you speak is a lowly be 
 ing, and all unworthy of the love of one so noble. 
 It is a destiny too exalted for such an one as Lucy 
 Everett." As she spoke, the light gleamed full 
 upon her countenance ; she drew the veil once 
 more around her, but not until Louis de Castine 
 had read upon her bright and blushing features, 
 the full approval of his love. 
 
272 CASTINE. 
 
 They were now landed in silence, among the 
 clustering foliage at a short distance below the 
 rock ; and leaning upon the arm of her conduct 
 or, Lucy Everett moved tremblingly along the 
 shore. Ere long, Alaska presented himself from 
 the thicket. A gleam of joy kindled his dark 
 features as he recognized the English captive, 
 but this was immediately exchanged for some 
 thing of sadness, of deep and melancholy curiosi 
 ty, as he glanced upon the form of her conductor. 
 After gazing a moment in silence, he pointed to 
 the thicket before them ; and winding around a 
 narrow and hidden path, they now followed his 
 steps. 
 
 In a few moments, they found themselves stand 
 ing upon the edge of a wide area, in the center 
 of which rose the blaze which had served as their 
 signal. Several Indians were scattered on the 
 grass around it, and two or three figures like 
 those of armed soldiers, slowly pacing before it. 
 For a few moments, Lucy Everett and her com 
 panion stood the silent and surprised spectators 
 of the scene; but the eye of the former soon 
 rested on a single figure, apart from the rest, and 
 reclining in the attitude of devotion. His face 
 was turned from them, but the light gleamed full 
 upon his venerable form, and on the gray hair as 
 it stirred with the evening breeze. 
 
 The next moment, with a wild and joyful cry, 
 Lucy Everett had sprung from her retreat. "My 
 father ! Now heaven be praised, I have found my 
 father." 
 
 Bewildered at that unexpected greeting,,jhe 
 old man raised his eye to the fair creature that 
 was bending over him. She flung back the man 
 tling drapery, and there, in the light apparel of 
 
CASTINE. 273 
 
 the catholic maiden, she stood, the loved and 
 wept, his own long lost and beautiful daughter. 
 
 * * * * * * * 
 
 Years rolled on, and the war-cloud still brood 
 ed over the colonies of New-England, when the 
 young Baron deCastine once more set foot on its 
 shores. Oh the fearful traces that a few short 
 years can write on the cherished treasures of 
 earth ! Castine was desolate its frowning walls 
 vveie levelled, and he who had reared them was 
 buried amid the wilderness. Antoinette too was 
 gone, his noble and true hearted sister; and she 
 now moved in a distant circle of rank and fashion, 
 the wife of the accomplished Beaumont. 
 
 And the young beautiful puritan ? She too was 
 changed. Four years had not passed so idly, 
 that the warm dreams of sixteen summers stiii 
 lingered on her brow. Four years of filial devo 
 tion, of patient, unwearying, unmurmuring care 
 had not left their own fair traces in the heait, and 
 on the face of the gentle and lovely. 
 
 Lucy Everett was an orphan. They to whom 
 she had been as the green clustering ivy on the 
 ruins, had gone, one by one, to heaven, and had 
 left her on the earth a lonely orphan. 
 
 So she bade a last farewell to the green graves 
 of her parents, and her native land, and ere long 
 the ancient castle of Castine rung with shouts of 
 welcome to the youthful Baroness, no less kind 
 and beautiful, but more blessed of heaven than 
 her unfortunate predecessor. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 THE REGICIDES. 
 
 For the benefit of those who are not familiar with the 
 history of the Regicides, I have collected the following 
 authentic information. Some slight liberties have been 
 taken with the dates, but with this and one or two ex 
 ceptions more, the events will be found to be substan 
 tially those which form the outline of the story. 
 
 "Of about one hundred and thirty judges, appointed 
 in the original commission by the commons House of 
 Parliament, for the tiial of king Charles I. only seventy- 
 four sat, and of these sixty seven were present at the 
 last session, and were unanimous in passing the defini 
 tive sentence upon the king ; and fifty-nine signed the 
 warrant for his execution, 1G49. Of these fifty-nine, 
 about one third, or twenty-four, were dead at the resto 
 ration, i860. Twenty-seven persons, judges and otheri, 
 were then taken, tried and condemned ; some of whom 
 were pardoned, and nine of the judges, and five others, 
 as accomplices, were executed. Only sixteen judges 
 tied, and finally escaped ; three of whom, Major Ge 
 neral EDWARD WHALLEY, Major General WILLIAM 
 GOFFE, and Colonel JOHN DIXWELL, fled and secreted 
 themselves in New-England, and died here." Stiles 
 History of the Judges, p. 7. 
 
276 APPENDIX. 
 
 With regard to the antiquity of the Whalleys, the 
 Rev. Mark Noble gives some very voluminous details, 
 in his Memoirs of the family of Cromwell. The sub 
 stance of the matter however is, that General Whal- 
 ley was descended from an illustrious family of that 
 name, who figured in England in the reign of Henry the 
 Sixth, and that his father married the daughter of Henry 
 Cromwell the grandfather of Oliver, the Protector. 
 
 " Edward Whalley Esq. the judge, being a second 
 son, was brought up to merchandise. No sooner did the 
 contest between king Charles and his Parliament blaze 
 out, than he (though in the middle age of life) took up 
 arms in defence of the liberties of the subject ; and this 
 in opposition to the sentiments of his nearest relations. 
 Probably his religious opinions determined him as much 
 or more than any other consideration. And though the 
 usage of arms must have been new to him, yet he early 
 distinguished himself in the parliament service, in many 
 sieges and battles." p. 9. 
 
 " Cromwell confided so much in him, that he com 
 mitted the person of the king to his care. The loyalists 
 have charged him with severity to his royal prisoner ; 
 but the monarch himself, in a letter he left behind him 
 when he made his escape, fully exculpates him from 
 that charge." 
 
 "He was one of the commissioners appointed and au 
 thorized by Parliament, as the High Court of Justice, 
 and sat in that august and awful tribunal, to which Ma 
 jesty was rendered amenable, and which had the intre 
 pidity and fortitude to pass judgment on the life of a 
 king ; one of whose judges he thus was, and the war 
 rant for whose execution he signed. 
 
 " At the battle of Dunbar, Sept. 3, 1650, he with 
 Monk, commanded the foot, and greatly contributed to 
 the complete defeat of the Scotch army. ** Cromwell 
 left him in Scotland with the rank of Commissary Gene 
 ral, and gave him the command of four regiments of 
 horse, with which he performed many actions that gain 
 ed him great honor." 
 
APPENDIX. 277 
 
 He continued a steady friend to his cousin Oliver, 
 after he had raised himself to the sovereignty ; and 
 was entrusted by him witli the government of the coun 
 ties of Lincoln, Nottingham, Derby, Warwick, and Lei 
 cester, by the name of Major General. He was one 
 of the representatives of Nottinghamshire, in the Par 
 liament held in 1654 and 1666. The Protector made 
 him Commissary General for Scotland, and called him 
 up to his other House. 
 
 " He was looked upon with jealousy by Parliament 
 after the resignation of Richard the Protector, especial 
 ly as he leaned so much to the interests of the army. 
 For this reason they took from him his commission. 
 This still endeared him the more to the army, who when 
 Monk s conduct began to be problematical, deputed 
 him one of their commissioners, to agree to terms of 
 peace and amity with that in Scotland. But Monk, 
 who knew his hatred to the royal family, and how much 
 reason he had to dread their return, absolutely refused 
 to treat with him." 
 
 The restoration of monarchy soon after becoming 
 visible, he saw the danger of his situation. For besides 
 the loss of the estate he possessed of the Duke of 
 Newcastle, and the manors of West-Walton and Tor- 
 rington, in the county of Norfolk, part of Queen Hen 
 rietta Maria s jointure, which he had purchased, and 
 whatever else estate he had, he knew even his life would 
 be offered up at the shrine of the king, whom he had 
 condemned to death ; he therefore prudently retired. 
 Sept. 22, 1660, a proclamation was published) setting 
 forth that he had left the kingdom, but as theie was 
 great reason to suppose he had returned, lOO was 
 offered to any one who should discover him in any of 
 the British dominions, and cause him to be brought in 
 alive, or dead, if he made any resistance. Col. Goffe 
 was included in this proclamation." 
 
 Here the European historians are lost- They repre 
 sent that these two exiles escaped to the continent, and 
 were at Lucerne, in Switzerland, in 1664 ; where some 
 24 
 
178 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 say that they died ; others, that leaving that place, they 
 privately wandered about for some years, and died in a 
 foreign clime, but when or where unknown. But tru 
 ly their remaining history, after they left England, 1660, 
 is to be traced only in America." Ibid. p. 10, 11. 
 
 " The heroic acts and achievments of Gen. Whalley 
 are to be found in all the histories of those times, in 
 the records of Parliament, and the other oiiginal me 
 moirs of Whitlock, Wellwood, Rushworth, and the pe 
 riodical publications of that day, now before me. From 
 all which it appears, that he was a man of true and 
 real greatness of mind, and of abilities equal to any 
 enterprize, and to the highest councils of state, civil, po 
 litical and military ; that he was a very active character 
 in the national events, for twenty years in the great pe 
 riod from 1640 to 1660. He was a man of religion. It 
 has been the manner of all the court historians, ever 
 since the licentious era of Charles II. to confound all the 
 characters of religion with the irrational and extrava 
 gant fanaticism of that day, and of every age. But 
 candor ought to confess, at least to believe, and even to 
 know, that in the cause of liberty, in the Parliamen 
 tary cause, while there were many mad enthusiasts 
 both in religion and politics, the great and noble trans 
 actions of that day, show there was also great wis 
 dom, great abilities, great generalship, great learning, 
 great knowledge of law and justice, great integrity, and 
 rational, sincere religion, to be found conversant among 
 the most vigorous and active characters of that era. 
 Among these, Whalley ought to be ranked ; and to be 
 considered as a man of firmness in a good cause, and like 
 Daniel at the Court of Persia, of a religion of which he 
 was not ashamed ; of an open, but unostentatious zeal, 
 of real, rational and manly virtue, a determined ser 
 vant and worshipper of the most high God ; of exem 
 plary holiness of life ; of fervent indeed, but sincere and 
 undissembled piety. The commissioners of Notting 
 hamshire give this testimony : * They think themselves 
 happy in having a person of so high merit sent down 
 
APPENDIX. 27 
 
 to them as Major General Whalley, who is their native 
 countryman, a gentleman of an honorable family, and 
 of singular justice, ability, and piety." pp. 13, 14. 
 
 The following is the character of Gen. Whalley as 
 delineated by the biographer of Cromwell. 
 
 " His valor and military knowledge were confessedly 
 great ; his religious sentiments wild and enthusiastic. 
 From a merchant s counter to rise to so many and so 
 high offices in the state, and to conduct himself with 
 propriety in them, sufficiently evinces that he had good 
 abilities ; nor is his honesty questioned by any, which, 
 as one of the king s judges, and a Major General, would 
 lay him open to a very narrow scrutiny." 
 
 Little is recorded of Whalley s children, it is certain, 
 however, that " he had a daughter who was married to 
 Gen. Goffe ; whom Goffe left in England, and with 
 whom he kept up a constant correspondence, by the 
 name of mother Goldsmith, while in exile in New- 
 England." p. 12. 
 
 William Goffe, Esq. was the son of the Rev. Ste 
 phen Gofie, a puritan divine, rector of Stammer, in 
 Sussex. Disliking trade, and the war opening, he re 
 paired to the parliamentary army ; where his merit rais 
 ed to be a quarter master, and then a colonel of foot, 
 and afterwards a general. He was a member of par 
 liament ; and one of those who took up accusation 
 against the eleven members, and who sentenced the 
 king, and signed the warrant for his execution. He 
 rendered the Protector great service, in assisting Colo 
 nel White in purging the parliament. For this and his 
 other services, he received Lambert s post of Major 
 General of foot. He was returned for Great Yar 
 mouth in the Parliament of 1654 ; and for the county 
 of Southampton in 1656. Last of all he was called up 
 into the Protector s House of Lords. He was grateful 
 to the Cromwell interest, and signed the order for pro 
 claiming the Protector Richard. This attachment 
 made him to be regarded by the Parliament, as well as 
 by the army with jealousy, after they began to be dispo- 
 
280 APPENDIX. 
 
 sed to a return of monarchy. And Monk, who knew 
 he was an enemy to the king s return, refused to admit 
 him to treat with him, though sent by the English army. 
 At the restoration he left the kingdom with Whalley, 
 whose daughter he married, and came with him to Bos 
 ton, in New-England, 1660. 
 
 The following account of the Regicides after their ar 
 rival in America, may be relied on as authentic. It was 
 compiled by Gov. Hutchinson from the diary and other 
 papers of Goffe then in his possession, and was first 
 published by him, as a marginal note, in his history of 
 Massachusetts, vol. p. 215. 
 
 " In the ship which arrived at Boston from London, 
 the 27th of July, 1660, there came passengers, Colonel 
 Whalley and Colonel Goffe, two of the late king s judges. 
 Colonel Goffe brought testimonials from Mr. John 
 Row and Mr. Seth Wood, two ministers of a church in 
 Westminister. Colonel Whalley had been a member 
 of Mr. Thomas Goodwin s church. Goffe kept a jour 
 nal, or diary, from the day he left Westminister, May 4, 
 until the year 1667 ; which together with several other 
 papers belonging to him, I have in my possession. Al 
 most the whole is in characters, or short hand, not diffi 
 cult to decypher. The story of these persons has never 
 yet been published to the world. It has never been 
 known in* England. Tndr papers after their death, 
 were collected, and have remained near H hundred 
 years in a library in Boston. It must give some enter 
 tainment to the curious. They left London before the 
 king was proclaimed. It does not appear that they 
 were among the most obnoxious of the Judges ; but as 
 it was expected that vengeance would be taken of 
 some of them, and a great many had fled, they did not 
 think it safe to remain. They did not attempt to con 
 ceal their persons or characters when they arrived at 
 Boston, but immediately went to the governor, Mr. 
 Endicot, who received them very courteously. They 
 were visited by the principal persons of the town ; and 
 among others, they take notice of CoL Crown s coming 
 
APPJ:NLI\. 211 
 
 to see them. lie was a noted royaiis;. Although they 
 did not disguise themselves, yet they chose to reside 
 at Cambridge, a village abom k-ur miles distant from 
 the town, where they went the iirsi day they arrived. 
 They went publicly to meetings on the Lord s day, and 
 to occasional lectures, fasts, and thanksgivings, and were 
 admitted to the sacrament, and attended private meet 
 ings for devotion, visited many of the principal towns, 
 and were frequently at Boston ; and once when insulted 
 there, the person who insulted them was bound to his 
 good behavior. They appeared grave, serious and de 
 vout ; and the rank they had sustained commanded re 
 spect. Whalley had been one of Cromwell s Lieute 
 nant Generals, and Goffe a Major General. It is not 
 strange that they should meet with this favorable re 
 ception, nor was this reception any contempt of the 
 authority in England. They were known to have been 
 two of the king s judges ; but Charles II. was not pro 
 claimed, when the ship that brought them left Lon 
 don. They had the news of it in the Channel. The 
 reports afterwards, by way of Barbadoes, were that all 
 the judges would be pardoned but seven. The act of 
 indemnity was not brought over till the last of Novem 
 ber. When it appeared that they were not excepted, 
 some of the principal persons in the government were 
 alarmed ; pity and compassion prevailed with others. 
 They had assurances from some that belongrd to the 
 General Court, that they would stand by them, but were 
 advised by others to think of jemoving. The 22d of 
 February, 1661, the governor summoned a court of as 
 sistants, to consult about securing them, but the ^o-iri 
 did not agree to it. Finding it unsafe to remain ,-nr 
 longer, they left Cambridge the 2Gth following, and ar 
 rived at New-Haven the 7th of March, 1661. 
 
 They were well treated at New-Haven by the mini* 
 ters, and some of the magistrates, and for some dar . 
 eerned to apprehend themselves out of danger. BII 
 the news of the King s proclamation being brought t.- 
 New-Haven, they were obliged to abscond. The 27th 
 24* 
 
282 APPENDIX. 
 
 of March they removed to New-Milford, and appeared 
 there in the day time, and made themselves known ; 
 but at night returned privately to New-Haven, and lay 
 concealed in Mr. Davenport the minister s house, until 
 the 30th of April. About this time the news came to 
 Boston, that ten of the judges were executed, and the 
 governor received a royal mandate, dated March 5, 
 1660, to cause Whalley and Goffe to be secured. This 
 greatly alarmed the country, and there is no doubt that 
 the court were now in earnest in their endeavors to ap 
 prehend them ; and to avoid all suspicion, they gave 
 commission and instruction to two young merchants 
 from England. Thomas Kellond and Thomas Kirk, 
 zealous royalists, to go through the colonies as far as 
 Manhados, in searcli of them. 
 
 " They made diligent search, and had full proof that 
 the regicides had been seen at Mr. Davenport s, and 
 offered great rewards to the English and Indians who 
 should give information, that they might be taken ; but 
 by the fidelity of their friends they remained undiscover 
 ed. Mr. Davenport was threatened with being call 
 ed to an account, for concealing and comforting trait 
 ors, and might well be alarmed. They had engaged to 
 surrender, rather than the country or any particular 
 persons should suffer upon their own account ; and up 
 on intimation of Mr. Davenport s danger, they gener 
 ously resolved to go to New-Haven and deliver them 
 selves up to the authority there. The miseries they had 
 suffered, and were still exposed to, and the little chance 
 they had of finally escaping, in a country where every 
 stranger is immediately known to be such, would not 
 have been sufficient to have induced them. They let 
 the deputy goternor, Mr. Leete, know where they 
 were ; but he took no measures to secure them ; and 
 the next day some persons came to them to advise them 
 not to surrender. 
 
 " On the thirteenth of October, 1564, they removed 
 to Hadley, near an hundred miles distant, travelling only 
 by night ; where Mr. Russel, the minister of the place, 
 
APPENDIX. 283 
 
 had previously agreed to receive them. Here they re 
 mained concealed fifteen or sixteen years, very few per 
 sons in the colony being privy to it. 
 
 " The minister was no sufferer by his boarders. They 
 received more or less remittances every year, for many 
 years together, from their wives in England. Those 
 few person? who knew where they were, made them 
 frequent presents. Richard Siiltonstall, Esq. who was 
 in the secret, when lie left the country and went to Eng 
 land in 1672, made thorn a present of fifty pounds at 
 his departure ; and they take notice of donations from 
 several other friends. They nere in constant terror, 
 though they had reason to hope after some years, that 
 the inquiry for them was over. They read with pleas 
 ure the news of their being killed, with other judges, in 
 Switzerland. 
 
 " A letter from Goffe s wife, who was Whalley s 
 daughter, I think worth preserving. After the second 
 year, Goffe writes by the name of Walter Goldsmith, 
 and she of Frances Goldsmith; and the correspondence 
 is carried on, as between a mother and son. There is 
 too much religion in their letters for the present day ; 
 but the distresses of two persons, under these peculiar 
 circumstances, who appear to have lived very happily 
 together, are strongly described." 
 
 A far more detailed account of their sojourn in New- 
 Haven is furnished by President Stiles in his History of 
 the Judges. I shall make only a few extracts. 
 
 " About the time the pursuers came to New-Haven, 
 and perhaps a little before, and to prepare the minds of 
 the people for their reception, the Rev. Mr. Davenport 
 preached publicly from this text, Tsai. xiv. 3. 4. " Take 
 counsel, execute judgment, make thy shadow as the 
 night in the midst of the noon day ; hide the out-casts, 
 bewray not him that wandereth. Let mine out-casts 
 dwell with thee ; Moab, be thou a covert to them from 
 the face of the spoiler." This doubtless had its effect, 
 and put the whole town upon their guard, and united 
 them in caution and concealment. 
 
284 APPENDIX. 
 
 As Kelloml and Kirk, besides the royal mandate, re 
 ceived a warrant from Gov. Endicot at Boston, to make 
 search through the colony of Massachusetts ; so passing 
 out of that jurisdiction into the jurisdiction of Connec 
 ticut, they obtained a similar warrant from the govern 
 or, Winthrop, at New-London, and upon entering into 
 the colony of New-Haven, they applied to Gov. Leet, 
 at Guilford, for a like warrant to search this jurisdic 
 tion also. They lodged at Guilford, and the next day 
 rode to New-Haven, and might enter about noon. 1 
 p. 32. 
 
 The governor and magistrates convened there the 
 same day, and under great pressure and perplexity, the 
 pursuivants demanding a warrant in the king s name 
 for a general search which was refused." p. 44. 
 
 There is some doubt as to the length of the pursuers 
 stay in New-Haven. President Stiles says. 
 
 " On the one hand, it is improbable they would spend 
 but one day in a town where they did not doubt the re 
 gicides they came three thousand miles in quest of, 
 vrere ; and on the other hand, tis doubtful whether 
 they would themselves do much at actual searching 
 without the governor s warrant, which was refused. 
 They !might however go into a few houses, as Mr. Da 
 venport s, Mr. Jones s, and Mrs. Eyers s, and finding it 
 in vain, give over further search. Governor Hutchin- 
 son says, " they made diligent search." And this has 
 always been the tradition in New-Haven. " p. 61. 
 
 A few anecdotes of that day s search, have floated 
 down to us in all their original quaintness. There are 
 two, which the reverend biographer seems to dilate up 
 on with peculiar satisfaction, and though not intimate 
 ly connected with the story may perhaps afford some 
 amusement to the curious. 
 
 While the pursuers were searching the town, the 
 judges, in shifting their situations, happened by acci 
 dent, or design, at the house of a Mrs. Eyers, a respec 
 table and comely lady ; she seeing the pursuivants com 
 ing, ushered her guests out at the back door, who walk- 
 
APPENDIX. J; . 
 
 ing out a little ways, instantly returned to the house, 
 and were hid and concealed by her in her apartments. 
 The pursuers coming in, inquired whether the regicides 
 were at her house ? She answered they had been there, 
 but were just gone away, and pointed out the way they 
 went into the fields and woods, and by her artful and 
 polite address, she diverted them, put them upon a false 
 scent, and secured her friends." p. 31. 
 
 "The family of the Sperrys always tell this story ; 
 that while the judges were at the house of their ances 
 tor, Mr. Richard Spcrry, they were surprized with an 
 unexpected visit from the pursuers, whom they espied 
 at a distance coming up a long causeway to the house, 
 lying through a morass, and on each side an impassible 
 swamp, so that they were seen perhaps fifty or sixty rods 
 before they came up to the house. But the judges es 
 caped into the woods and mountains, and eluded their 
 search." pp. 31,32. 
 
 To the same date the president is disposed to refer 
 the anecdote of the bridge. But the accounts of this 
 circumstance are extremely contradictory ; the only cer 
 tainty with regard to it is, that the regicides were at one 
 time concealed beneath a small bridge near New-Hu- 
 ven, while the royal pursuivants rode over it, and per 
 haps there is as little fiction in the particulars I have 
 given of the affair, as in those which have found a 
 place in graver pages. 
 
 The commissioners own account of their journey will 
 perhaps be read with some interest. 
 Extracifrom a Report made to Gor. Endicot by Thomas 
 Kellond and Thomas Kirk. 
 
 (< Honorable Sir. We, according to your honor s or 
 der, departed in search after Colonels Goffe and \Vhal- 
 ley (persons declared traitors to his Majesty) from Bos 
 ton, May 27th, 1661, about six o clock at niht, and ar 
 rived at Hartford the 10th day, and repaired to Gov 
 ernor Winthrop, and nave him your honor s letter and 
 his Majesty s order for the apprehending of Colonels 
 Whalley and Goffe, who gave us an account that they 
 
286 APPENDIX. 
 
 (lid not stay there, but went directly for New-Haven, but 
 informed us that one Symon Lobden guided them to 
 the town. The honorable governor carried himself very 
 nobly to us, and was very diligent to supply us with all 
 manner of conveniences for the prosecution of them, 
 and promised all diligent search should be made after 
 them in that jurisdiction, which was afterwards perform 
 ed. The llth day we arrived at Guilford, and repair 
 ed to the deputy governor, William Leet, and delivered 
 him your honor s letter and the copy of his Majesty s 
 order for the apprehending of the aforesaid persons, 
 with whom at that time were several persons. After 
 the perusal of them, he began to read them audibly, 
 whereupon we told him it was convenient to be more 
 private in such concernments as that was ; upon which 
 withdrawing to a chamber, he told us he had not seen 
 the two colonels not in nine weeks. We acquainted 
 him with the information we had received that they were 
 at New-Haven since that time he mentioned, and there 
 upon desired him to furnish us with horses, &c. 
 which was prepared with some delays, which we took 
 notice of to him, and after parting with him out of 
 his house and in the way to the ordinary, came to us one 
 J)cnnis Scranton, and told us he would warrant that 
 Colonels Goffe and Whalley at the time of his speak 
 ing were harbored at the house of one Mr. Davenport, 
 a minister at New-Haven, and that one Goodman Bish 
 op, of the town of Guilford, was able to give us the like 
 account, and that, without all question, Deputy Leet 
 knew as much, and that Mr. Davenport had put in ten 
 pounds worth of fresh provisions at one time into his 
 house, and that it was imagined it was purposely for the 
 entertainment of them. 
 
 " And the said Scranton said further, that Goffe 
 and Whalley should say, that if they had but two hun 
 dred friends that would stand by them, they would not 
 care for Old or New-England ; whereupon we asked 
 if he would depose to that : he replied he would, that it 
 was openly spoken by them in the head of a company 
 
APPENDIX. 287 
 
 in the field a training. Which words were also con 
 firmed by several others, as also information that Gofie 
 and Whalley were seen very lately betwixt the houses 
 of Mr. Davenport and one Mr Jones, and it was ima 
 gined that one lay at one of their houses, and the other 
 at the other s. Upon which we went back to the De- 
 puty s and required our horses, with aid and a power to 
 search and apprehend them ; the horses were provided 
 for us, but he refused to give us any power to apprehend 
 them, nor order any other, and said he could do nothing 
 until he had spoken with one Mr. Gilbert and the rest 
 of the magistrates; upon which we told him we should 
 go to New-Haven and stay till we had heard from him, 
 but before we took horse the aforesaid Dennis Scranton 
 gave us information, there was an Indian of the town 
 wanting, which he told us was to give notice of our 
 coming. 
 
 " And being at New-Haven, which was the thirteenth 
 day, the deputy arrived within two hours or thereabouts 
 after us, and came to us to the Court Chamber, where 
 we again acquainted him with tho information we had 
 received, and that we had cause to believe they were 
 concealed in New-Haven, and there upon we required 
 his assistance and aid for their apprehension ; to which 
 he answered that he did not believe they were there. 
 Whereupon we desired him to empower us, or order 
 others for it ; to which he gave us this answer, that he 
 could, nor would not make us magistrates; we replied, 
 that we ourselves would personally adventure in the 
 search and apprehension of them in two houses where 
 we had reason to imagine they lay hid, if they would 
 give way to it and enable us ; to which he replied, he 
 neither would nor could not do any thing until the free 
 men met together. To which we set before him the 
 danger of that delay and their inevitable escape, and 
 how much the honor and service of his Majesty was 
 despised and trampled on by him, and that we suppo 
 sed by his unwillingness to assist in the apprehension, 
 he was willing they should escape. After which he 
 
288 APPENDIX. 
 
 left us and went to several of the magistrates and were 
 together five or six hours in consultation, and upon 
 breaking up of their council, they would not nor could 
 not do any thing until they had called a general court of 
 freemen. Whereupon we represented to them your 
 Honor s and Governor Winthrop s warrants as prece 
 dents, who upon the receipt of his Majesty s pleasure 
 and order concerning the said persons, stood not up 
 on such niceties and formalities, but endeavored to make 
 all expedition in seizing on them, if to be found in their 
 government, and also how your honor had recommend 
 ed this grand affair to him, and how much the honor and 
 justice of his Majesty was concerned, and how ill his 
 sacred Majesty would resent such horrid and detestable 
 concealment and abettings of such traitors and regi 
 cides as they were, and asked him whether he would 
 honor and obey the king or no in this affair, and set be 
 fore him the danger which by law is incurred by any one 
 that conceals or abets traitors ; to which the deputy 
 Leet answered, we honor his majesty, but we have ten 
 der consciences. 
 
 " This was the substance of our proceedings, there 
 were other circumstantial expressions, which are too 
 tedious to trouble your honor withall, and which we have 
 given your honor a verbal account of, and conceive it 
 needless to insist any further ; and so finding them ob 
 stinate and pertinacious in their contempt of his Ma 
 jesty, we came away the next day in prosecution after 
 them, according to instructions, to the governor of Man- 
 hados, from whom we received civil respects, and a 
 promise, if they were within his jurisdiction, we should 
 command what aid we pleased, but for sending of them 
 according to your honor s request, he could not answer 
 it to his masters at home, but if they came there he should 
 give your honor timely notice. Whereupon we request 
 ed his honor, the governor of Manhados to lay a re 
 straint upon all shipping from transporting them, which 
 he promised should be done, and also to give order to 
 
APPENDIX. 289 
 
 his fiscal or chief officer to make private search in all 
 vessels for them that were going thence. 
 
 Upon which finding any other means ineffectual, 
 we made our return hither by sea, to give your hon 
 or an account, and to which (when your honor shall 
 require it) are readyj.0 depose to the truth of it, and 
 remain, 
 
 Sir, 
 
 Your honor s humble servants, 
 THOMAS KELLOND, 
 THOMAS KIRK, 
 Boston, May 29th, 1661. 
 
 30th May, 1661. 
 
 Mr. Thomas Kellond and Mr. Thomas Kirk having 
 delivered this paper to the governor, as their return, in 
 answer to what they were employed, deposed before 
 the governor and magistrates, that what is there ex 
 pressed is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but 
 the truth. 
 
 Per EDWARD RAWSON, Secretary." 
 
 The pursuivants state in this report, that they came 
 to Boston by water, the constant tradition however is 
 that they visited New-Haven on their return ; probably 
 they passed through it to Governor Winthrop at New- 
 London, and proceeded from thence by water. 
 
 After the pursuivants were gone, and before the 17th 
 of May, the magistrates caused a thorough though fic 
 titious search to be made through the jurisdiction. 
 They sent to Totoket, or Branford. 
 
 " While it is certain that the pursuivants came here, 
 had an interview with the magistrates to no purpose ; 
 and that the judges ceased to lodge in town on the 1 1th 
 of May, two days before they came ; and so Governor 
 Leet might say very truly on the 13th, that he did be 
 lieve they were in town, and indeed might have every 
 reason to think at that time, that they were absconded 
 into the environs or the woods beyond the West-Rock. 
 All tradition agrees that they stood ready to surrender 
 25 
 
290 APPENDIX. 
 
 rather than that Mr. Davenport should come into trouble 
 on their account ; and they doubtless came into town 
 from Saturday till Monday for this end, and Mr. Gil 
 bert expected their surrendery. But in this trying time 
 their friends, for their sakes adventured to take the 
 danger upon themselves, and risk events. A great, a 
 noble, a trying act of friendship ! For a good man, 
 one wouldj even dare to die ! Great was the peril espe 
 cially of Leet, Davenport, and Gilbert ! Inveterate the 
 resentment of Kellond and Kirk 1 and pointed and 
 pressing the remonstrances of the governor and secreta 
 ry of Boston. The magistrates of New-Haven colony 
 were truly brought into great straits the fidelity of 
 their friendship heroic and glorious! Davenport s forti 
 tude saved them !" pp. 62, 63. 
 " At a meeting of the General Court for the Jurisdic 
 tion, May 17, 1661. 
 
 The deputy governor declared to the court the 
 cause of the meeting, viz. that he had received a 
 copy of a letter from his Majesty with another letter 
 from the governor of the Massachusetts, for the ap 
 prehending of Colonel Whalley and Colonel Gofie, 
 which letters he shewed to the court, acquainted them 
 that forthwith upon the receipt of them, granted his let 
 ter to the magistrate of New-Haven, by the advice and 
 concurrence of the deputies, there to make present and 
 diligent search throughout their town for the said per 
 sons accordingly ; which letters the messengers carried 
 but found not the magistrate at home ; and that he him 
 self followed after the messengers, and came into New- 
 Haven soon after them, the 13th May, 1661, bringing 
 with him Mr. Crane, Magistrate at Branford, who when 
 they were come, sent presently for the magistrates of 
 New-Haven, and Milford, and the deputies of New-Ha- 
 yen Court. The magistrates thus sent for not being 
 yet come, they advised with the deputies about the mat 
 ter, and after a short debate with the deputies, was wri 
 ting a warrant for search of the above said colonels, but 
 the magistrates before spoken of being come, upon fur- 
 
APPENDIX. 29 1 
 
 tlier consideration (the case being weighty) it was re 
 solved to call the General Court, for the effectual carry 
 ing on of the work. The deputy governor further in 
 formed the court, that he himself and the magistrates 
 told the messengers, that they were far from hindering 
 the search, and they were sorry that it so fell out, and 
 were resolved to pursue the matter, that an answer 
 should be prepared against their return from the Dutch. 
 The court being met, when they heard the matter de 
 clared, and had heard his Majesty s letter, and the let 
 ter from the governor of the Massachusetts, they all de 
 clared they did not know that they were in the colony, 
 or had been for divers weeks past, and both magistrates 
 and deputies wished a search had been sooner made, 
 and did now order that the magistrates take care and 
 send forth the warrant, that a speedy diligent search be 
 made throughout the jurisdiction, in pursuance of his 
 Majesty s commands, according to the letters received, 
 and that from the several plantations a return be made, 
 and that it may be recorded. And whereas there have 
 been rumors of their being known at New-Haven, it 
 hath been inquired into, and several persons examined, 
 but could find no truth in these reports, and for any that 
 doth appear, are but unjust suspicions, and groundless 
 reports against the place, to raise ill surmises and re 
 proaches." pp. 47, 48. 
 
 The following is Stiles account of their residence 
 at the cave. 
 
 " In 1785, I visited Mr. Joseph Sperry, then living, 
 aged 76, a grandson of the first Richard, a son of Dan 
 iel Sperry, who died 1751, aged 86, from whom Joseph 
 received the whole family tradition. Daniel was the 
 sixth son of Richard, and built a house at the south end 
 of Sperry s farm, in which Joseph now lives, not half a 
 mile west from the cave, which Joseph shewed me. 
 There is a notch in the mountain against Joseph s house, 
 through which I ascended along a very steep acclivity 
 up to the cave. From the south end of the mountain 
 for thice or four miles northward, there is no possible as- 
 
292 APPENDIX. 
 
 cent or descent on the west side, but at this notch, 
 so steep is the precipice of the rock. I found the 
 cave to be formed, on a base of perhaps forty feet 
 square, by an irregular clump or pile of rocks, or huge 
 broad pillars of stone, fifteen and twenty feet high, 
 standing erect and elevated above the surrounding su 
 perficies of the mountain, and enveloped with trees 
 and forest. These rocks coalescing or contiguous at 
 top, furnished hollows or vacuities below, big enough 
 to contain bedding and two or three persons. The 
 apertures being closed with boughs of trees or other 
 wise, there might he found a well covered and conve 
 nient lodgment. Here, Mr. Sperry told me, was the 
 first lodgment of the judges, and it has ever since gone 
 and been known by the name of Judges Cave to this 
 day. GofTe s journal says, they entered this cave the 
 15th of May, and continued in it till the llth of June 
 following. Richard Sperry daily supplied them with 
 victuals from his house, about a mile off; sometimes 
 carrying it himself, at dther times sending it by one of 
 his boys, tied up in a cloth, ordering him to lay it on a 
 certain stump and leave it ; and when the boy went for 
 it at night he always found the basons emptied of the 
 provisions, and brought them home. The boy wonder 
 ed at it, and used to ask his father the design of it, and 
 he saw nobody. His father told him there was some 
 body at work in the woods that wanted it. The sons 
 always remembered it, and often told it to persons now 
 living." pp. 76, 77. 
 
 "In 1604 they arrived at Hadley, and took up their 
 abode at the house of the Rev. Mr. Russel. At this 
 house, and at the house of Mr. Peter Tilton, Esq. they 
 spent the rest of their lives, for fourteen or sixteen years, 
 in dreary solitude and seclusion from the society of the 
 world." p. 108, 
 
 It would be quite inexcusable to omit in this connec 
 tion the universal tradition of a singular and romantic 
 incident, that occurred during that period. It isthus re 
 lated by President Stiles* 
 
APPENDIX. 293 
 
 During their abode at Hadley, the famous and most 
 memorable Indian war that ever was in New-England, 
 called King Philip s war, took place, and was attended 
 with exciting a universal rising of the various Indian 
 tribes, not only of Narragansett and the Sachemdom of 
 Philip, at Mount Hope, or Bristol, but of the Indians 
 through New-England, except the sachemdom of Uricas, 
 at Mohegan, near New- London. Accordingly the Nip- 
 mug, Quanbaug, and northern tribes were in agitation, 
 and attacked the new frontier towns along through 
 New-England, and Hadley among the rest, then an ex 
 posed frontier. That pious congregation were observ 
 ing a fast at Hadley, on the occasion of this war ; and 
 being at public worship in the meeting-house there on a 
 a fast day, Sept. 1, 1675, were suddenly surrounded 
 and surprized by a body of Indians. It was the usaare 
 in the frontier towns, and even at New-Haven, in 
 those Indian wars, for a select number of the congre 
 gation to go armed to public worship. It was so at 
 Hadley at this time. The people immediately took to 
 their arms, but were thrown into great consternation 
 and confusion. Had Hadley been taken, the discovery 
 of the judges had been inevitable. Suddenly, and in 
 the midst of the people there appeared a man of a very 
 venerable aspect, and different from the inhabitants in 
 his apparel, who took the command, arranged, and or 
 dered them in the best military manner, and under his 
 direction they repelled and routed the Indians, and the 
 town was saved. He immediately vanished, and the in 
 habitants could not account for the phenomenon, but 
 by considering that person as an angel sent of God up 
 on that special occasion for their deliverance ; and for 
 some time after said and believed that they had been 
 delivered and saved by an* angel. Nor did they know 
 or conceive otherwise, till fifteen or twenty years after, 
 when it at length became known at Hadley that the 
 two judges had been secreted there ; which probably 
 they did not know till after Mr. Russel s death, in 1602. 
 This story, however, of the angel at Hadley, was before 
 25* 
 
294 APPENDIX. 
 
 this universally diffused through New- England by means 
 of the memorable Indian war of 1675. The mystery 
 was unriddled after the revolution, when it became not 
 so very dangerous to have it known that the judges had 
 received an asylum here, and that Goffe was actually in 
 Hadley at that time." pp. 109, 110. 
 
 " General Whalley died at Hadley certainly after 
 1674, probably about 1678. And Gen. Goffe is to be 
 heard of no more after 1679. p. 113." 
 
 " The tradition is that after Whalley s death, Goffe 
 went off, first to Hartford, afterwards to New-Haven, 
 where he was suspected and in danger of being known 
 by his extraordinary dexterity with the sword, shewn 
 on a particular occasion. And in apprehension of dan 
 ger, he went off from New-Haven. Here tradition ends 
 with respect to Goffe." p. 199. 
 
 <! was at Hadley, May 21, 1792, making inquiries 
 only for gratifying my own curiosity, and without a 
 thought of compiling this history. The Rev. Mr. Hop 
 kins carried me to Mr. Russel s house, still standing. It 
 is a double house, two stories and a kitchen. Although 
 repaired with additions, yet the chamber of the judges 
 remains obviously in its original state unmutilated, as 
 when these exiled worthies inhabited it. Adjoining to 
 it behind, or at the north end of the large chimney, was 
 a closet, in the floor of which I saw still remaining the 
 trap door, through which they let themselves down into 
 an under closet, and so thence descending into the cel 
 lar for concealment, in case of search or surprise. I 
 examined all those places with attention, and with heart 
 felt sympathetic veneration for the memories of those 
 long immured sufferers, thus shut up and secluded from 
 the world for the tedious space of fourteen or sixteen 
 years, in this voluntary Bastile. They must have been 
 known to the family and domestics ; and must have 
 been frequently exposed to accidental discoveries, with 
 all their care and circumspection to live in stillness. 
 That the whole should have been effectually concealed 
 
APPENDIX. 295 
 
 in the breasts of the knowing ones, is a scene of secre 
 cy truly astonishing. pp. 20t>, 201. 
 
 The fate of Goffe after leaving Haclley is quite uncer 
 tain. There are some circumstances however, which 
 render my conjecture extremely probable. The idea 
 of his openly residing at New-Haven was first suggest 
 ed by the facts relative to Dixwell, another of the fugi 
 tive regicides, who was also for a short period secreted 
 in Hadley. The latter had lived for many years in New- 
 Haven under the assumed name of Davids, unsuspected, 
 in a contented and happy retirement, loved and honored 
 by many, though his real name and condition were 
 known to but few. He was the correspondent and in 
 timate friend of Cofte, and to whom would the latter be 
 so likely to go, upon the death, of his aged companion, 
 as to him who had sympathized in his deepest misfor 
 tunes, and why should not his success and safety encou 
 rage him to make trial of the same experiment ? Certain 
 it is, that the low, rude stone, which bears the initials of 
 the real and assumed name of Dixwell stands by another 
 no less low, and rude, and still more mysterious in its 
 inscriptions. And it needs but a slight stretch of ima 
 gination in those who look upon it, to believe that the 
 exiled stranger sleeps beneath, with his brother exile, 
 and but a faint tinge of romantic feeling, to read in those 
 ancient and moss grown letters a more touching eulogy 
 than any that can adorn the monument of his kingly per 
 secutors. 
 
 Much conjecture at one time existed with regard to 
 the sepulture of Whalley. All doubt was removed a 
 few years since by the discovery of his remains in the 
 house of Mr. Russel at Hadley. They were found in 
 the cellar, inclosed and concealed within the stone wall. 
 
THE FAIR PILGRIM. 
 
 " IN 1620, the same month the Puritans arrived on the 
 coast from England, James I. issued a charter to the 
 Duke of Lenox, Marquis of Buckingham, and others, 
 styling them the " Grand Council of Plymouth, for 
 planting and governing New England, in America." 
 This patent granted to them the territory between the 
 40 and 48 of north latitude." 
 
 " From the tranquility which the Brownists had en 
 joyed at New Plymouth, and the sufferings to which 
 those who held the same opinion were exposed in Eng 
 land, an association was formed by Mr. White, a cler 
 gyman at Dorchester, in England, for the purpose of 
 leading a new colony to that part of America where the 
 brethren were settled. They obtained from the Grand 
 Council of Plymouth, that part of New England which 
 lies three miles to the south of Charles river, and three 
 miles to the north of Merrimac river. 
 
 " As the patent of the Council of Plymouth conveyed 
 no powers of government, king Charles, by their urgent 
 solicitation, granted them these powers by charter. 
 The new adventurers were incorporated by the council 
 as the body politic ; they were empowered to dispose of 
 their lands, and to govern the people who should settle 
 on them. The first governor and his assistants, were 
 to be named by the crown ; the right of electing their 
 successors was vested in the members of the corpora 
 tion. In consequence of this alteration, seventeen ves 
 sels sailed for America in 1629. When they arrived at 
 New-England, they found there the remains of a small 
 body of Puritans, who had left their country the year 
 before under Endicot ; and uniting with these, they set 
 tled at a place to which Endicot had given the name of 
 Salem. This was the first permanent town in Massa- 
 
APPENDIX. 207 
 
 c.husetts. They soon explored the coast in quest of a 
 better station, and laid the foundation of ninny towns, 
 among which were Boston and Charlestown." 
 
 "On no part of the history of the United States, per 
 haps we might say of the world, does the eye of the 
 philanthropist rest with more interest, than on the ac 
 count of this little devoted hand, now commonly spoken 
 of under the touching appellation of the PILGRIMS. They 
 possessed a much higher cast of moral elevation, than 
 any who had before sought the new world as a residence. 
 The hope of gain was the motive of former settlers, 
 the love of God was theirs. In their character and in 
 their institutions, we behold the germ of that love of 
 liherty, and those correct views of the natural equality of 
 man, which are now fully developed in the American 
 constitution." \Villard s Republic of America, pp. 
 48, 51, 46. 
 
 "Gentlemen of ancient and worshipful families, and 
 ministers of the gospel, then of great fame at homo, and 
 merchants, husbandmen, artificers to the number of some 
 thousands, did for twelve years together carry on this 
 transplantation. It was indeed a banishment rather tiian 
 a removal, which was undergone by this glorious gene 
 ration, and you may be sure sufficiently afflictire to men 
 of estate, breeding and conversation. As the hazard 
 which they ran in this undertaking was of such extraor- 
 dinarincss, that nothing less than a strange and strong 
 impression from heaven could have thereunto moved the 
 hearts of such as were in it ; so the expense with which 
 they carried on the undertaking was truly extraordinary. 
 Briefly, the God of heaven served as it were, a summons 
 upon the spirits of his people in the English nation ; 
 stirring up the spirits of thousands which never saw the 
 faces of each other, with a most unanimous inclination 
 to leave all the pleasant accommodations of their native 
 country, and go over a terrible ocean, into a more ter 
 rible dcsart, for the pure enjoyment of all his ordinan 
 ces." 
 
298 APPENDIX. 
 
 " General Considerations for the Plantation of New 
 England. 
 
 " It will be a service unto the Church of great conse 
 quence, to carry the gospel into those parts of the world, 
 and raise a bulwark against the kingdom of antichrist, 
 which the Jesuites labor to rear up in all parts of the 
 world. 
 
 " All other churches of Europe have been brought un 
 der desolations ; and it may be feared that the like judg 
 ments are coming upon us; and who knows but God 
 hath provided this place to be a refuge for many, whom 
 he means to save out of the general destruction. 
 
 " What can be a better or nobler work, and more 
 worthy of a Christian, than to erect and support a re 
 formed particular church in its infancy, and unite our 
 forces with such a company of faithful people, as by a 
 timely assistance may grow stronger and prosper ; but 
 for want of it, may be put to great hazards, if not be 
 wholly ruined. 
 
 " If any such as are known to be godly, and live in 
 wealth and prosperity here, shall forsake all this to join 
 with this reformed church, and with it run the hazard of 
 a hard and mean condition, it will be an example of great 
 nse, both for the removing of scandal, and to give moie 
 life unto the faith of God s people in their prayers for 
 the plantation, and also to encourage others to join the 
 more willingly in it." Mather s Magnolia, Vol. I. 
 pp. 64, 65. 
 
 By copying the following extract we do not intend to 
 assert that the outline of this story is true, but merely to 
 show that the example of devotedness here exhibited, is 
 not unparalleled in the history of the Pilgrims. 
 
 " Being happily arrived at New-England, our new 
 planters found the difficulties of a rough and hard wil 
 derness presently assaulting them : of which the worst 
 was the sickliness which many of them had contracted 
 by these other difficulties. Of those who soon died after 
 their first arrival, not the least considerable was the lady 
 Arabella, who left an earthly paradise in the family of 
 
APPENDIX. 299 
 
 nn Earldom, to encounter the sorrows of a wilderness, 
 for the entertainments of a pure worship in the house of 
 God; and then immediately left that wilderness for the 
 heavenly paradise, whereto the compassionate Jesus, of 
 whom she was a follower, had called her. The mortal 
 ity thus threatening of this new plantation so enlivened 
 the devotions of this good people, that they set themselves 
 by fasting and prayer to obtain from God the removal 
 of it.; and their brethren at Plymouth also attended the 
 like duties on their behalf; the issue whereof was, that 
 in a little time they not only had health restored, but they 
 likewise enjoyed the special directions and assistance of 
 God, in the further prosecution of their undertakings." 
 Mather s Magnolia, Vol. I. p. 71. 
 
 CASTINE. 
 
 A CONSIDERABLE pioportion of this story is fictitious. 
 The following facts, however, are interwoven with other 
 incidents, designed to illustrate some peculiarities in the 
 condition of the New-England settlers. 
 
 " The peace of Ryswick was of short duration. In 
 May, 1 702, war was proclaimed by England both against 
 France and Spain. The American colonies of both na 
 tions took an active part. While the English colonies 
 were at war with the Spanish in the south, they had a 
 more formidable enemy to encounter in the French at 
 ( an.ida. Notwithstanding the eastern Indians had 
 given a solemn assurance of their determination to re 
 main at peace with New-England, yet they soon com 
 menced hostilities, and the whole country from Casco to 
 Wells was devastated." Willard s Republic of Amer 
 ica, p. 97. 
 
 To the living witnesses of these atrocities, the name 
 of Hertel de Rouville was fearfully familiar. He was 
 pre-eminent among the French officers in Canada, for 
 
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